So it has been a shitty day.

My kids have been giving me shit. They stole my cellphone, my MetroCard. There is no retribution. I feel as if I am disregarded, ignored, and hated, but still third from last in this regard as far as teachers go. Then I try and do shit in midtown, and have to take a massive piss, overladen with a heavy Prentice-Hall Math A textbook, and staggering to PABT. A great feeling, though, that liberation. Ugh... Hitting up poor Alec for a phone number check (since they stole my fucking cellphone). Then I end up finally hanging out with Kenneth, which was at least grounding in the good way, even though I was somewhat out of it, and back to smoking down Newports. Sigh. I needed Joephet then. Yeah... In any case, I eventually make it out to Maplewood, but wait! I lose Miss Fegs' phone number, so I dial every combination I can think of, then have to end up taking a nicely-driven gypsy cab all the way to the place, which sets me back another $10 I'll never see. I did at some point hold $640 cash today. Hrmm... That was nice. So yeah... today I end up down about $120 for no reason other than my job, which might yet not be my calling.

But then I get to Miss Fegs' place, and some online backgammon and substances later, feel much better, hauling out the detritus of nearly a decade. If you've never destroyed an old musty couch, I suggest that you do.

So I am feeling at a relative low from before, which was much more energetic and happy, and adequate. So I will need to go do some research tomorrow in the CUNY Graduate Center, or something. Go look shit up, and take down names. Apparently I am not alone with my Wittgensteinian tack toward shit.

I think this is some way of handling my pride which was a bit too high--back to work, back to work, back to work.