Tom is Away

VH1 just aired a 30 minute show analyzing the way different celebrities pick their noses.

If I turn up dead tomorrow, consider this my suicide note.
And please, please, sue the shit out of VH1.

more applications.

so tired.

feeling good. did a good job today. relaxing, enjoying the fruits of my labor, etc.

finally registering for classes, then teaching my first full class of the semester. Luckily, I taught the same 3 stories last semester, so this should be easy.

Teen beats up grandmother because she won’t buy him beer

alternate title: Why Tom won’t Have Children.

"Sure, we’re qualified to teach democracy to Iraq. We’re great at it. We know all about it…
After 100 years in a democracy, you have to let your slaves go.
After 150 years in a democracy, you have to let your women vote.
And at the beginning of a democracy, ethnic cleansing and genocide are just fine." — Kurt Vonnegut on "The Daily Show"

prepping to teach.

boy, do i hate the assholes downstairs who bang on their ceiling every time they hear me typing.

It’s not like I’m using a sledgehammer to punch the keys in on an old-timey typewriter. You probably can’t even hear it in my kitchen. Maybe they’re bats. Or worse, vampires.

you may be living it up now, liver, but be forewarned: when I’m finally done reading these applications, I’m launching an assault the likes of which you haven’t seen since I went to that Ted Nugent concert.

oh crap, i guess i should register for classes.

I promised myself I wouldn’t cry.

trying to finish the first round of applications today.

shower, then application reading. then more application reading.

going to bed early didn’t help, because I couldn’t sleep anyway. still tired.

in bed early. tomorrow’s gonna be a marathon.

rejecting people from the workshop.

tonight, I ate an olive for the first time in my life. and believe me, i ain’t gonna make that mistake again.

running late, scrambling to workshop, then hoping I don’t get stuck going to a crappy place for dinner.

writing workshop letters.