got up today an hour late, missed shakespeare class cuz the night before i was up to three or four or so. i went over to hilly's after making some music with jake and josh. i put together a model of Cornelius from planet of the apes sitting on the floor of her room. i kissed her three times before i left, and i remember each one clearly. but in any event, i skipped shakespeare, which i'm doing pretty miserably in. i rode my bike wearing my steel-toed boots for the first time, and went to brit lit. turns out i got a C+ on the midterm. it's only 10% of the grade, though. ironic that i'm doing much better in spanish than my english classes. after brit lit i went to math, listened to my headphones and gave all the right answers (which was no answer at all). the prof. was talking about flipping coins and probability so i told kristen the story about a man, a 17th century composer named jeremiah clarke, who on being jilted by his lover decided to kill himself. he flipped a coin to decide: heads was drowning, tails was hanging. the coin landed on its edge in the mud so he went home and shot himself.

after that mess, i biked up to kroger and got my weekly ration of peanut butter and stole some batteries for my mp3 player. went to work, and interpreted for a jennifer lopez (no shit) and her baby jesus. he pissed on the scale when he was weighed. mike (michael felger) is my trainer, and i like him a lot. about 25, he's a little taller than me, with short red hair. he is clean shaven, with freckles and clear eyes. he looks tired all the time, looks like the world is getting him down. he teaches spanish to kindergartners in addition to interpreting and is going to grad school for spanish lit. he rides bikes (he wants to get a track bike and is interested in critical mass) and plays guitar in a rock band called Crazy Ivan with a few of his jazz-studying friends from CCM. i like him because he has a good soul and is patient. he cares about lives other than his own. maybe i'm not making myself clear, but i at least know what i'm saying.

after work i got some skyline. sitting at the bar, i tucked the napkin into my collar and it reminded me of my dad. i came home. i dozed on the couch for a little bit, and then i went to my parents house to watch Bringing out the Dead. scorsese's new york makes me feel, just like sandberg's chicago or kerouac's america. olivia and i sipped on gin and orange juice. "It need's more orange juice," she said to me, and i said "ah, no it doesn't" being careful not perpetuate patriarchy. mama gave me a ride home at midnight and we talked in the car. she mentioned all the dumpstered bread in the freezer, and i told her that the crew had gotten more than enough food to feed 30 people for more than a month - the food that one mid-sized grocery threw away. i told her how much this country, this way of life bothers me, how fucked up i think it is that for me to succeed, someone else must fail. she agreed, but i don't think she's comfortable with my nihilism, my bitterness. i explained to her that it's because of the shit i see that i fight so hard to make things right (i don't think of what i want as "right" i just think of it as not wrong). i told her i loved her and went into my apartment.

tomorrow is valentine's. a bunch of gangsters got killed in a garage in the north side of chicago on that holiday in 1929. i believe in valentine's about as much as they do.

that said, i love you all.