It’s Monday morning. Emerson forces us to wake early if we want breakfast during this interum time. I’ve senior week events to attend and I feel somehow undelighted by the whole prospect. Graduation. What are you doing next? Where are you living? Small talk with everyone who you ever had a class with and exchanged names. I don’t know why I’m disillusioned with my place here. In an hour our senior class will be having their picture taken in a movie theater. Something just seems off about this. Film school. Blah.
Also I couldn’t get a Blackberry Brandy Sour @ Felt last night as per my dying grandmother’s request. Apparently it’s an “old people’s drink”, no shit! a 69 year old lady told me to get it while reminicing about her jitterbug days.
We walked home in the rain after the diner last night, scurrying between overhangs and finally succombing to being water logged. I discussed Bukowski with someone I’d never met and the dirty old man brought us closer together. I respect people on the basis of their knowledge of pulp as if I’m some sort of expert. We agreed “Ham on Rye” is easily his most superior work and parted not knowing one anothers names.
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