Tuesday, August 05, 2008
A friend lent me an absorbing novel that, engrossed in it though I was, did not entirely deviate my attention from the two old Texas ladies who shuffled into the coffee shop this afternoon; one clutched a giftcard and acted as translator for the other, who I suppose cannot speedily conduct customer service-provider interactions any longer. They haltingly discussed everything on the menu as if making some grievous, ineradicable commitment that could possibly lead to their deaths if not properly played. The non-communicative one settled for a mango smoothie, which I genuinely hope went down well. I kept shifting my feet and pulling my hands in and out of my pockets as I stood there nervously behind them. They were inhaling my youth through their nostrils, and it made me twitchy.
Life is meaningless, I am an empty being, and I will commit seppuku if I ever become old.
Labels: coffee shop, giftcard, menu, old ladies, senility, seppuku, smoothie, translator, twitching, youth
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 5:17 PM]
Bob Dylan Is Not A Crazy Old Man
Thursday, March 27, 2008
In an advising session with Dr. Lavigne this afternoon, he mentioned, after I decide which graduate school to attend, he would take me aside for a "send-off". I worry this means he's going to break a liquor bottle across my side. I would almost rather have a sex talk with my dad. Normally, the "send-off" occurs between Dr. Larmour and the graduate students who are leaving the University for a PhD program somewhere. Being yet an undergrad, I get Avril, but I might put in a request that Dr. Larmour be present.
The shifts I work at Fuddruckers only last between three and six hours, nights, which makes this the cakewalk job I had hoped it would be. A tire blowing out on my tank, however, complicates transportation from (I catch the bus to) Fuddruckers to The Lair, which is about four miles away. The walk takes forever, but I still arrive at The Lair with time enough to work for a little bit before bedtime.
Labels: advising, Bob Dylan, car, Fuddruckers, grad school, senility, The Lauree Lair, transportation, walking, working
[Lauree Frances Keith concluded this diatribe at 2:43 PM]






