class, I’m a teacher. I want to be seen as the tireless teacher who happens to write. Not the “tireless writer”. About to be interrupted… shit. Nevermind. Other instructors flood the halls, and I want to listen to what they say, then don’t. Next week, easy meetings with students. But I have to wait till Monday. Why the bloody… why can’t I teach everyday? That’s all I want to do, anymore. Teach, share ideas, the Exchange of Ideas like Bob said… read, share reactions to the readings. Tonight pairing HST with the Cab I found in my cellar. Not Wolff like I said— or, no, I’l stick with Wolff. Short story. Study therein, of. Full-timers talk loud in the mailroom and annoy me proverbially, joke with each other in that self-assured verbal romp. Think I should go, cuz this isn’t working my usual place to meditate in words, this conference room table— GODDAMNIT! SHUT UP!!!