Painful.

Not to describe the feeling I have right now. And feelings: what are feelings? But who cares right now. Riding my bike into town, over to the college, the library, it is a clear crisp early autumn morning. It still gets warm during the day, but the mornings are much cooler. Reminds me of being in Ramallah. I'm not sure why. But while riding my bike, that was the feeling I got. So strange. So painful.

(Title Necessary?)

Ryan Adams can't decide whether he is Bob Dylan or Gram Parsons or Bruce Springsteen or The Replacements or Coldplay or (heaven forbid!) Bryan Adams.

It goes something like.

Very little. 3 classes. Algebra 1, Biology, Algebra 2. The rapscallions. The beautiful rapscallions. M&Ms to cheer. Dateline docu about 9/11 to crush their stone-cold hearts. Find a job, a house. But, oh, are they beautiful. So cliche'd to say "they are the future." Too true. Must direct them. Direct them with my own misdirection/directionlessness. Very little.

My life is not a fake.

Buidling 503 looms in my mind. Whatever shall I do? I must not sleep today for fear that I might wake up with a dream of Building 503 lingering in my thoughts. I guess the justice department just ain't for me.

This is the ending.

Congratulations on winning the "Mergent Dividend Recorders" Lookalike Contest! You win cheeses.