They Call It Stormy Monday
Started fine. I shared a smoothie and a cigarette with the abster, early in the mornin'. Then, hell. Despite being invited to a faculty election party and hearing that August Kleinzahler was reading there on Thursday, MIT was not a fun place to work. I tried frantically to control myself and then to write on my lunch break, and nothing worked. I got nowhere, in any context. Eventually I went home and tried to make guacamole. I stabbed myself while pitting an avocado, putting a 1.5" gash in my left hand. Straight through all of the skin. All of it. I wasted a white t-shirt stopping the bleeding and then I filled the gash with rubbing alcohol. zing. Roommate James crazy glued it shut. Then I made the best guacamole I've made yet.
It's the second night of seasonal disafective disorder season. Time to buy bandages and wander the streets until my phone rings. Again, I am a very simple person.
posted by Rob at 8:49 PM
1 Comments:
No you're not.
Could you PLEASE be a little more careful with the damn knives? Sheeze. At least I know when I need to get that carpal tunnel syndrome surgery thing I can just ask you to do it since you've got experience gashing hands open.
How's the weather? You can always just think about the weather.
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