I got rained out at the beach today, but not before having a great time.
Worked the rest of the evening – bulletin board, graphic design gig, desk shift, duty…
I got rained out at the beach today, but not before having a great time.
Worked the rest of the evening – bulletin board, graphic design gig, desk shift, duty…
I’m reading, then swatting a mosquito.
I’m reading, then staring at the rain.
I’m reading, then thinking about coffee.
I’m staring at the page, but not reading.
I’m reading, then I have to pee (probably because of that damn coffee).
I’m reading, and then swat at another mosquito…
I sometimes wonder if I have ADHD, but I think it has more to do with complete (and thorough) disinterest in what I’m reading
An argument against the whole ADHD theory is my recent library sprees for the English class.
Other notes:
– The loud, hyper grad student in class is very efficiently freaking me out
– Weekly tasks: keep dorm cleaner, wash laundry more often, and cut back on Starbucks.
A quiet brooding productivity, like the hum of the air conditioner (minus the inevitable drip.)
Not so for others apparently: There’s an exchange of glances in class during a bad presentation. The teacher might not detect the smell of manure but we do.
Flies should be all over it.
Getting to the 43rd and Collins parking lot was a lot harder than usual because I accidentally took 195 instead of 395.
The eastern part of South Beach was completely gridlocked. There was a serious car wreck on 195 by Star Island, which shut down the entire east-bound side of the highway.
The tow truck with one of the wrecked cars drove behind me. The entire front of the car was caved in, windows broken, side doors crumpled, and the front of the car was filled with the car’s bumpers that the cops probably shoved in.
The driver was either at the hospital or morgue.
The traffic was at a standstill all the way back to South Beach, up Alton, and Down 5th.
So, even though I was going towards the beach, not away from it, I still had to sit in line among those who were avoiding the 195 drama by going North.
Eventually made it to 43rd and the beach. Greeted some homeless, avoided some junkies, and almost tripped over a seagull.
Read an interesting entry in one of my creative writing books by CJ Box. It follows:
Open Season, then titled Joe Pickett after my game warden protagonist, was completed in manuscript form four years before it was acquired by Putnam. In the four years between completion and sale, an agent was supposedly showing it around, but I never really confirmed that. For an entire year I heard nothing, and for good reason: he had died. No one told me.
My editor overheard a (living) agent talking about Open Season in a bar during a writer’s conference. She asked the agent for a look at the manuscript. Before leaving the publishing industry for good to seek honest employment, the agent passed along the inquiry to me.
Of course, previous to this, I had written three full unpublished novels and an unfilmed screenplay. My children did not know I wrote because I didn’t want them to think of their dad as a failed novelist. They didn’t know I wrote fiction until I had a book contract.
Just your typical 20-year overnight success story.
CJ Box is at http://www.cjbox.net/.
This lizard jumped on my shoulder, sprung to the neighboring chair, and gave me a look like “and what?”
Miami Weekend: studying outside during the day, arthouse/international movies, people watching on South Beach.
“There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is full.”
Henry Kissinger
Outline of current events:
– Mind on Minnesota – decisions are great.
– Experiencing “Senior Mode” instead of “Senioritus”, meaning, the irrelevant things get axed..(I’m unapologetically focused on priorities and efficient like the CEO’s secretary. )
– Desperately trying to adhere to a (probably) unrealistic schedule of ass-early mornings.
– Work, library, the other work, library, work…
Next week I’m bulldozing.
Folding clothes, cleanly shaven, to the backdrop of pop-punk. Dave needs to stop keeping the Jager in the freezer because it has a tendency to fly out and spill in the most spectacular fashion.
Funny story about Jager actually. Carlos and I were at a country club in the province when this 300-pound cowboy insisted that we try Jager bombs. Neither of us wanted one. We didn’t know what it was, didn’t care, and were perfectly content with our lone Budweisers. It was a Tuesday, what was he thinking?
Well, cowboy orders the bombs for us and we felt obliged. Turns out that a Jager bomb is a variation on my “shut your mouth potion” – which is spiked Guarana Antarctica, but the catch is that you’re supposed to chug a Jager bomb, whereas you don’t chug the potion.
Now, the cowboy told us we needed to do one every 15-minutes, which was crazy, because after three minutes both Carlos and I got the dizzy and had to flee to Denny’s to get some food in our systems. Slept well that night.
Carlos & I skipped to the Province and found that the show had been canceled. Had a fun time at Alibi though – why is the awesomeness on Weekdays? (Wednesday consequently was rough).
Later, JHR, Ale, & I took on South Beach. Ale should learn to moderate
Hecht won again, my building has won every year since 2002. Woot.
Also trained at Hollister. Hm. I never knew that theft was so prevalent. The store loses 150+ items per week to sticky fingers. At an average cost of $25 (to be nice) that’s $3750 in shrink. Stealing from a mall… Who does that? Really… I think growing up in the country instills a sense that you will be caught and publicly embarrassed for theft. .
Sportsfest wochenende beginnt. Naja.
The positive being, there is a Redbull tent and plenty of free Taurine.
Tugging, pushing (amused), watching things slowly pile up, and then quietly sloshing through the rest.
Book keeping. Lists. Editing the youtube stuff, filtering things out, deleting…and possibly opening a new account.
I also think I might go to Minneapolis sometime later.
Schools, applications, and a more than few trips to Starbucks.
My German language class is miserably hard, whereas my German literature class is a waste of time (and will be promptly dropped.)
Weekends at Jorge’s with JHR and Mike – we sit in the backyard grass neglecting the dogs, our homework, and each other.
The dock is calm enough for us to swim among the ships in the middle of the night in the cold, slimy, water. Afterwards we sit dripping in the living room watching A&E until Jorge’s mom yells at us. Marta is always more patient than she has to be…
Let’s try something new – this semester I’m actually going to learn something.
Fiddling with youtube…
There’s a new grocery store across from campus with a gaudy fountain in front of it. Six square inch cubes of watermelon $3.16. Fresh cut and packaged sandwiches $6.49. Ox-tail soup $14.99 per serving.
Not a single black customer. White people shopping, black people working.
Displays of dozens of meat products, fried chicken, lamb, none of which will be sold before closing or edible tomorrow – and a sign that indicates the store is dedicated to sustainable fishing.
I refused to buy anything and immediately went to Wendy’s.
Winter-ferien beginnt!
…Vöt!
Today involved the car breaking down, a 3 mile walk to downtown from the nameless repair shop, tripping over the red tape at the Miami-Dade College Wolfson campus (I know), a metromover-metrorail ride home, and class.
Include in that a trip to McDonalds and harassment by various junkies.
Skipping around Little Havana and downtown the middle of the day is something I rarely do anymore. I hardly recognized the Wolfson campus – it feels almost walled in by the the new construction (namely Everglades on the Bay.)
The towers were beautiful. I suspect my little Miami is becoming a city.
Thanksgiving weekend this year is characterized by mornings writing, afternoons reading,
… AOE in the evenings, and nights at the movies. Repeat.
Ich bin oft den ganzen tag draußen,
Kind of have to be in Coral Gables nicht war?
Movie lineup for the break: Hitman, The Mist, Love in the Time of Cholera, No Country for Old Men. And another PD James novel + her autobiography.