So I'm sittin here on a computer in class. I mean, I mean I'm just sittin here on a computer in this god forsaken class typin up essays an editin an getting my rightful dose of american education, and let me tell you somthin
I am tired of writing.
When I drove here a few moments ago I had the cd player on and the windows down and I was singin' to modest mouse and bein young and it felt really good to just let my chattery head be still for a little bit and just be. I'd like to do that more. I don't think I'll be able to do that for a while due to finals and all. I'm just a vessel for knowledge as far as anyone's concerned at this point.
Here in the classroom everything is quiet, academic quiet, a sad sort of resignation to quiet and white noise... and being productive, in a special sort of not-productive way. It's makin me overly aware of my body temperature, the only thing I have left to destract me in here. My nipples are hard or my pits are wet... gross. Those words are not words I'm used to typing in an academic atmosphere.
At this point I'm waitin for my number to come up. For the professor to call my name. For the reckonin to be had. I'm waitin to pass or to fail, just like at the pearly gates. Waitin. Waitin. No magazines in here, no muzak to please my ears, nothin to do but type and worry about my nipples. Type, type, type til somethin happens. Maybe I could have some fun in the mean while.
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