that I’m refusing to post to the blog. I’m selling it. Somehow. Have to edit it, print it, double-space it, and there I am. The journalist, teacher, writer, more-so-journalist.
What the fuck are they watching on the other side of the door, in that big theatre room? Something about sex, or STD’s, what. Gross. Need a walk. Told myself this would be a no-spending day, but that won’t happen, as I’m hungry and will need something from the caf’ which isn’t a big deal since I have to get oil for that goddamn Passat (what I call the “Panzer toboggan”)… anyway, I’m buying self lunch. But what. Burrito? Burger? Grilled turkey & cheese? WHAT?!?