Overcast

Hello Blog Readers. I didn't forget about you, I just got busy. Not "got busy" got busy, just busy. I was moving, yes, moving again. I like my new apartment a whole lot. Maybe it will be sunnier this weekend and I'll treat you to a photo essay on my new apartment. To whet your appetite: there's a fresco on the landing of ye olde cottage in the depth of winter. I really like the new place a lot. For one thing, the fridge isn't four feet away from my bed and for another I can hang my clothes on the line to dry. And wash my car. Yesterday I discovered that two doors down and across the street is a fantastic park with lots of paths. This is the year I teach myself to run on cement.

On Friday I attended the Worst Writing Class in the history of the world. No one threw scat at anyone's head in a literal way, but some people stared at other people with their eyes bugged out in a "let's take this outside" kind of way and let the silence linger. It's not often you get to sit in a tiny seminar room on the 6th floor and have your peers issue a non-verbal invitation to the teacher to rumble. At one point, the guy across from me goes, "What does it matter? It's all bullshit anyway. What do you think you're making? Profundity? I can tell you it's not".

Then I went out with Becky and Brooke and we sat at a table and drank a lot.