10-5 11:55 AM M
The Monday dreads were upon me like a pack of heavy rats gnawing my flesh, impossible to shake off because of their size and number.  My life is not mine. Maybe after Christmas break I can try to take off a semester of night school.  I'm in the shitter now in the faculty bathroom.  I just now walked across the playground from my room to get here. Two of my students, Ashley and Dijonia spotted me.  Now they are waiting outside the door while I work out this crap.  I told them if they were still there when I got out I would put them under the sad face. I can still hear them calling each other stupid out there, though. Someone just slid a key in the lock. The girls screamed, "Somebody's in there!"  I heard a woman's voice say, "Okay, okay," and the key slid back out. The deadbolt was locked, anyway. Yesterday's buffalo wings seem reluctant to part my person.  I feel a little sting of hot sauce on asshole.  I'll make tacos for lunch after school when I get home.  I'm going to miss the deciding game of the Cleveland/NY series.  The Pats and Broncos are on tonight, too.  I've got to try to add to Jim tonight.  Finish the two flashbacks.  I'm getting a lot of negative commentary on the randomness of my narrative.  People want things tightly packed up and easy to follow, like a half-hour tv show.  Life is not like that. Neither need be literature.       What do I know?    I'm really beginning to see it as a total waste of time.  I had a diet drink for breakfast and an apple for lunch.