10/21/2003 - 11:12 a.m. | about this morning

Woke up this morning thinking about glue. What about it, I'm not sure, but glue was definitely the topic of discussion. Attempted to hide enough of my disgustingness to step out into the world for a little while. It was chillier than yesterday, but I happen to like chilly days, so I don't know why I even bothered mentioning it.

In the waiting room, I read about how sometimes alcoholics piss themselves, and somehow this seemed like the worst part of the whole thing, reverting to this primitve state where you can't even control your bladder.

Talked to Dr. Robin for a bit. I could very easily convince her to double, triple my prescription, but that would be taking advantage, and besides - I'm feelin' fine.

She asked how classes are, and I said they are boring and that I wasn't used to that. She asked what I was doing instead. I told her I cook, which isn't entirely true, but I would like it to be, and the first step is convincing yourself.

When I stepped back out, it smelled like salad dressing. Italian, to be specific. Not particularly awful but not my favorite smell either. On the way back, I almost ran over this book by the curb. It turned out to be a copy of the 1937 "Illini Ceramist," some sort of yearbook for ceramics students. From over 60 years ago. How did it end up out there by the curb on Lincoln?

I came home and did some minor things. I make lists every so often for the things I wouldn't do otherwise. Not that they aren't important, just that they seem to become much more imperative if they're on a list. So I'm getting much done. Or so I like to think.

"the 6th floor gay boys have it and they make out with all the 5th floor girls, cause thats what gay boys do"

Sometimes I feel like I'm in a poorly-written short story.