5/30/2023 0 Comments Weather by Jenny OffillDon’t forget quarters, I remember.Īt the bodega, Mohan gives me a roll of them. It’s blue and white, but blurs to blue in the wind. Sometimes when the students are really stoned, they’ll buy them. On the way home, I pass the lady who sells whirling things. I tell him that old joke about going backward. “Do you ever wish you were thirty again?” asks the lonely heart engineer. I brave a theory about vaccinations and another about late capitalism. The blond girl whose nails are bitten to the quick stops by after lunch and leaves with a purse full of toilet paper. He is pleased to contribute to our institution. The man in the shabby suit does not want his fines lowered. Is what you’re doing right now making money? it said. Minor but instrumental!īut last night, his wife put a piece of paper on the fridge. He is minor, but instrumental, he told me. He is writing about a philosopher I have never heard of. He has been working on his dissertation for eleven years. I spend some time pulling books for the doomed adjunct. This stage can be described only by a Japanese word. There are stages and she is in the second to last, she thinks. In the morning, the one who is mostly enlightened comes in.
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