Sunday, September 12, 2004


So I was sitting at home talking to Rusty on the phone last night. He had been cleaning out closets all day and wheezing from it. I had read 800 pages of classic novels all day, and when the phone rang I was making an outline of sorts for a paper I had to write. Neither of us were very happy. The phones hurt our ears. Both of us had more stuff to do today. For example, I had to write papers about Moby Dick and Moll Flanders and memorize some verb tenses and respond to some student freewriting. But we decided we didn't care about our responsibilities. "Fuck those responsibilities in the ass," Rusty said. I said, "You're right, Boo-boo. I don't feel compelled to do any more work when it doesn't contribute to my overall happiness, and when, in fact, it takes away my overall happiness. I don't like it when my brain feels like oatmeal." So we met at the beach today. Rusty took the WEDway there. I drove the Jetta and brought some perfect turkey sandwiches and cold Cokes. We had a really good time. Rusty wore his new Mickey Mouse t-shirt from Disneyworld. We got to hold hands. Sometimes it felt like we were in a Van Gogh painting, only without all the cutting-off-the-ear angst. Here's a picture.

Oh, wait, I drew that in my notebook. I've been writing papers all day. Rusty probably cleaned out more closets.

Well, shit, man.