Friday, September 17, 2004
Rebekah, Carissa and I went to the university museum, which had turn-of-the-century (well, the one before the one that just ended) Native American photogravures, a few dinosaur bones, and Georgia O'Keefe's heart. Carissa informed us of the current scandal about Lubbock's Buddy Holly Museum for the Arts: 'twould appear Mrs. Buddy Holly wants more money for the building to continue using his name, because her annual rights apparently expire in a year or two. The owners of the building essentially told her to take a hike, id est, the building will be renamed shortly. She's been milking profits from his fame for half a century, and they were only married how long? Greed is a terrible thing, children.
After the excitement of seeing dinosaur bones, we dined at Fazolis. The girls there gave us many breadsticks. My breath tastes like marinara.
Tomorrow morning I journey to the art building (it is across the street from my dorm) to critique student work displayed in the studio gallery for the second half of an art appreciation assignment. I finished my analysis of the teaching assistant's work last night as Amy, Robert, and I watched Halloween. The film lacked enough death. After completing homework tomorrow I shall count every physical item at my new place of employment during the course of my shift. That sounds unexciting, but I suppose it is preferable to contending with people.
I hate people.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 6:14 PM]