Tuesday, July 04, 2006
Over the weekend I mourned the loss of Sharada and Jenni. I went to the pool, Jenni-less, and had to explain to the lifeguard that I would be checking out only one kickboard, for my friend had graduated and left Lubbock forever. Yesterday I swam the usual twenty laps all by my lonesome, but felt better for having gone regardless. One of the lifeguards tried to seduce me, but he failed to impress. His friend laughed.
I am on the final chapter of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, the third having been the best: mostly a long soliloquoy by a priest.
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 11:13 AM]