A Vision of Greyness Without Form

While sipping my coffee in bed the other day, an air raid siren went off. An announcer over a loud and imaginary intercom said: “Warning this is a test. Only a test.” Ringing in the background of the siren, were church bells playing a dreamy melody. I half wondered if someone was getting married during all the chaos. The bells were playing one of those happy-sad songs you hear in some old black and white movie, or a cartoon where the lovers reunite after suffering through some impossible trials and tribulations. Odd phenomenon. Later that day, Tiger the Kitty puked in various locations around the house, so I spent a better part of the morning searching for piles of cat puke. Fun times.

Since the last post a lot of things and not a lot of things have happened. I’m twenty-two and a bit distraught and preoccupied with how I’m wasting my youth in more school—and for what? And I had my first graduate school presentation: which consisted of teaching a class full of people older than me for three hours about The Great Gatsby. I made an A- so I’m not a complete fucking idiot, like I had originally imagined. Kudos. Otherwise, graduate school is keeping me busy with reading and writing and thinking about what the hell I’m here for. Currently I’m struggling to create a decent paper proposal before Thursday on Winesburg, Ohio concerning grotesque truths and the living dead. Monday I have a midterm in my Milton class. As for Eliot, I don’t even know what to think of that class, so I just don’t. My tutee in English earned the highest grade on a paper she’s ever gotten, [B-] and I didn’t even write the paper for her.

Things keep happening, and I keep scurrying to keep up—to stay one inch ahead, at least for the moment.

And yet. Someone in my class accused me of being a Brett Ashley, so I almost puked.

I think I like living in San Francisco, and I could get accustomed to living out here permanently. In fact, I think I just might. Granted, I have yet to have any real connections with anyone here, and friendship seems to be asking too much for anyone right now, so I suppose I will have to wait and see what will happen, and what (if any) friends I make while living here.

I think someone on the bus had fleas, and now I have a fleabite on my upper arm. Fucking hell.

Geoff comes to visit this Wednesday. I don’t know how I’m going to have any schoolwork finished by the time he arrives, and study for a midterm too. I’ll have to figure something out, I suppose. Parker, Liam, and Face arrive in early November. I’m thrilled to have friends who still want to see my face, at least for a few days.

Work is fun. A whole new slew of angry people are arriving in the office, complaining of how bad they suck at writing. I always seem to be able to calm their angry selves down, whereas my other coworkers are just angry in return.

So much is happening and it's hard to keep everything in my memory, but more later.