<= 2003.09.01

2003.09.06 =>

up to the guard tower

If you sent me an email and never got one back, it's because my fucking webmail server is fucking fucked. Sorry about that. I'll try to make amends when I get back to Portland in two weeks. Ojalá, many things will be better when I get back to Portland. Working this job is sort of like driving across the country; the only way to stave off the numbing sameness is to keep a running total in your head of the [miles/dollars] so far accumulated. Doing this makes me peevish and misanthropic, the more so because I have a nascent book and can't write it. And while the American justice system is salutary in a lot of ways, all the courtrooms and judicial offices are vortices of sha chi. You can almost feel the blood dripping from the walls.

I bought my tickets for Guatemala next month. My PO box finally freed up, so the record ought to be out before that. In the spring I'll try to take a Spanish lit class or something at PSU. I am a Displaced Person. Do not listen to the Displaced Person.

 

<= 2003.09.01

2003.09.06 =>

up (2003.09)

The Warm South
The Roof Rat Review