Wednesday, December 01, 2004


Our esteemed film form teacher is leaving us for the weekend to go to Montreal, in a civilized country, he says, where he can get a flu shot in peace. Coincidentally, I spent an unreasonable amount of time on the totally automated and totally useless to me Panhandle Health Flu Advisory Hotline this very afternoon. We have to share every blessed inch of the filthy sidewalks with about a trillion other people every second, and some people are more gracious and conscious of that fact than others. Some are aggressive and maybe it's okay. The boy who sits next to me always tears off a corner of his notebook page and puts his gum into it and pockets it until it can be properly disposed of. Welcome to a genteel world that I continuously find myself completely incapable of successfully navigating. I put my name on the donor list for people waiting to inhabit the blissful asylums of F. Scott Fitzgerald's latter years. While I certainly am a high need case, I am also a very difficult match, so let's cross all our little fingers.

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