Chair full of hail

They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection
nuns run bald through Vatican halls pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception
And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood
Sticker smiles sweet as gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud
And I said "Hey, gunner man, that's quicksand, that's quicksand that ain't mud
Have you thrown your senses to the war or did you lose them in the flood?"
-Bruce Springsteen




The Story is now 54,000 words.

Back to work at 8 this morning and man was it a shock for my body. You have no idea! More talking ass. I think i am still adjusting back to the food.

And sometimes I get pain in the top of one of my legs, like it's out of the socket, so I was limping through the Metro. It's recovered now. I wonder what the fudge that is!

Then a teacher's meeting with one school and another class at 2:30. But happy to be back to work!

This pic and the one below show some of the holes punched in the table and all the dirt the storm kicked up from somewhere. Time for me to go clean that shit up.

Then Spain plays Armenia at 22:00. I should have bet Mitchell, our favorite Armenian Weasel.

Then sweet sweet sleep.

It'll be nice to get my schedule from Alex tomorrow and get back into a routine. I've been a rolling stone for so long now.

And I think my boss, Celia, was hitting on me today. She's really hot, but I try not to poop where I eat. "Call me! Let's go out and celebrate our divorces being final!" That came out of nowhere.

These young girls won't let me be
Woe is me!
-Warren Zevon