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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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A day like all the others
Well, kids, it's midnight and M. and I just got home from the studio where I tried to study while he threw pots and I got some studying done, but K. was there and so I ended up talking to her. Not much of any real interest happened today besides that. We rolled out of bed around 3:00. We went for groceries. Yah. Went to the studio. Yah. Right now I am worried about whatever fallout is going to fall out over the letter I sent to pencildickboy asserting my autonomy. I mean, yes, it needs to be said by someone, but I seem to be the only fucking one in the program who is willing to stand up and say when something is wrong. I mean, the finances are fucked, but as long as they keep paying me and paying my tuition, what do I care? But I still say something about it because it may ultimately affect me and it is affecting other people right now. But no one but me said anything when the time presented itself. Come on, kids. Speak up or they'll keep shitting on you because you're letting them. And this whole deal about not trusting us--any of us--stinks of paternalism and racism both. Not that those things weren't readily apparent before; I'm just surprised that they are so blatant about it. Anyway, I'm sure I'd be a lot more worked up if it weren't for the damn Zoloft. One can barely find the motivation to yawn much less be enraged.
More lies:
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