*****

    There is a fell pirate wind outdoors today, a Londonderry aire, I guess.  What do I know?  I know that it smells very bad like the sweet scent of breads rotting and that orange stuff they use to clean up factories and schools.  I seem to twist and fall around in the wind; it is like I have absolutely no substance at all.  I fling and bounce and hurt myself.  I cannot stand to walk everywhere, but I have accepted it at this point.  It is my fate and I have swallowed it along with my pride.  No, wait; I have not swallowed my pride.  That is part of my problem.  This wind, though, is getting on my nerves.  It is blowing dust and sidewalk dirt up into my face and eyes and blinding me.  It is making the poor sleeping—or is it hibernating?—anyway, the bare little rose bushes bend in what appear to be very uncomfortable and unhealthy ways.  Nature is subversive.  I mean it is just so fucking treacherous.  Here we are as human beings with big brains and thumbs and stomachs that rumble and we have all of these wonderful things like modern medicine and life affirming values and nature tries its damnedest to make us animals.  We can evolve and grow and change and become so great and pure and noble, but that damned nature is always about turning us into animals again.  Filling our minds up with wanton longings to merely breed and eat, not to make love and dine.  No peace can we find. Nature is a seven-inch knife with a dull, rusty, pocked blade sticking in our backs.  Justice, justice shall we seek.  Oh yes, holy and undefiled, we shine in the reflection of the sun, the same sun that is in the process of betraying and fucking us over.  It is a wild thing.  Being so close to the campus and being so absolutely annoyed by the weather conditions outside, I decide that on my way home I shall cut though some of the university buildings.  Normally this would not be what one may call a shortcut, but today it seems in my best interest and also the music building is one of those I will have to transverse, so of course I have motives.  I have motives for every single thing I do; we all do, some just lie.  I have systemical motives, so I can consider myself healthy and perfectly sublimated.  
    I walk down the college halls, down those brightly lit halls filled with young men with long hair and young women with short hair.  Those halls lit with electric fire, invented and perfected by people that never walked down the halls and if they did so they do it without any pride whatsoever.  On both sides of the halls there are large glass windows, so a person can look directly into the classrooms and almost see every student who inhabits them, even those who are only auditing and sitting way in the back.  I walk by the advanced music composition class and look slyly out the corner of my eye and notice that Marissa is indeed teaching today.  I speed up and get past and then try to sneak back by and get a drink from the ancient disease crusted water fountain.   One day she will appreciate this because I am sure I am getting mono and herpes and the Hong Kong chicken Flu and other diseases that at a later date will be named after me from this damned thing.  The water is cold and has a pleasant soft and sweet taste, however.  I inch back down the hall a bit and try to hide in a little cubbyhole corner thingy almost directly across from the window looking in to her class.  She moves like some kind of balletomane tornado but slow, so slow.  It is an eruption of grace, so slow, lingering, biting, intense. This is what Jacob fought, and this is the trick even played upon him.  She moves and adroitly points things out that her students have stupidly screwed up.  She clears up confusions.  She is bathing in knowledge—her knowledge, her worldliness, and her erudition.  And then I notice a young man sleeping in the back of the class.  Sleeping. What in the hell?  Why is he sleeping?  How dare he?  My insides scream and tear at my body to get out and shake the asshole and rage at him and beat the living fuck out of him.  I decide I should probably leave now, and away I go.