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September 11-15: This isn't a job. (Bonus ending for FoK!)
[quote name="mark"]<b>[11 Sep 2005|09:25am]</b> <b>[mood|wake up, drink]</b> <b>[music|jose gonzalez- slow moves]</b> I used to write to impress her. But that's no longer possible. So. I guess I could explain the sudden cold. But you'll know soon enough. <b>tombstone entry</b> <b>[11 Sep 2005|09:27am]</b> <b>[ mood | name it ]</b> <b>[ music | avril lavigne- losing grip ]</b> Remembrance is all I ask But if remembrance proves a task Forget me. 2 comments|post comment <b>[11 Sep 2005|05:18pm]</b> <b>[ mood | & his, i'm thinking ]</b> <b>[ music | elliott smith- shooting star ]</b> The third set tie break broke my heart. 1 comment <b>fun fact</b> <b>[11 Sep 2005|05:39pm]</b> <b>[ mood | none ]</b> <b>[ music | the 6ths- as you turn to go ]</b> I killed everyone in The Exploding Hearts. 7 comments <b>[11 Sep 2005|07:01pm]</b> I got the job. Just recieved the call in fact. I have to teach four classes tomorrow. & I have. Nothing. I'm in serious trouble. I can't even think of an appropriate reading list. What do middle school kids read? Maybe I'll assign recipes. Ingredients lists. Fine print. 9 comments <b>[11 Sep 2005|07:21pm]</b> I have no idea what I'm doing. 2 comments <b>hot for teacher</b> <b>[11 Sep 2005|09:59pm]</b> <b>[ mood | that's how i roll, yo ]</b> This is so fucking evil. A one week probationary period & then, upon its succesful completion, a one year contract. But they've given me nothing! They don't have any fucking textbooks. They do not have a core curriculum or a reading list. Motherfuckers. There are bloody mary stains on my sportcoat. & my tie? Though it appears to simply be a series of (mesmerizing) geometric shapes is actually a highly magnified cluster of the HIV virus. 2 comments <b>"he fell"</b> <b>[11 Sep 2005|10:08pm]</b> <b>[ mood | prison-style ]</b> I figure the first five minutes are the most important. So what I'm going to do is find the toughest guy in the room & then pound his face into fucking hamburger. <b>[11 Sep 2005|10:10pm]</b> You know I always say I'm not going to sleep with my students or do coke with them or end up at after hours bars with them. But this time I mean it! Honest! <b>?Me echas de menos?</b> <b>[11 Sep 2005|10:11pm]</b> <b>[ mood | serpentine ]</b> <b>[ music | elliott smith- miss misery ]</b> Maybe I should play that Human Beinz song "Nobody But Me" as my entrance music. Cuz these kids have had teachers before. But I'm not a teacher. I'm a fucking torrent. I'm a fucking chainsaw. Very very dangerous to cuddle with. But still a whole lot of fun. White noise shaped like a boy. Duende. ~ Before I go to sleep I will use her toothbrush. You would not believe the sad small things I do. To make believe she is still in the room. <b>"but mr. swensen, television is the longest book ever"</b> <b>[12 Sep 2005|05:54pm]</b> <b>[ mood | fucking exhausted ]</b> & eleven hours later I'm home again. <b>[12 Sep 2005|06:56pm]</b> <b>[ mood | disappear here there anywhere ]</b> I love my job but I don't really believe in anything. The job has meaning. My life? No longer does. Fuck it. Time to go get a preppy haircut. <b>[12 Sep 2005|08:36pm]</b> <b>[ mood | redeye ]</b> "Maybe this poem isn't sad Mr. Swensen. Maybe you are." & all I can say is. "Watership Down. I really liked Watership Down." 1 comment <b>[12 Sep 2005|09:38pm]</b> It's just like uh. So much work. Full time English. Part time P.E. teacher. What else. Lunch monitor. Advisor to the Art/Drama club. Goddamn parent-teacher night on Friday. When I don't even know if I'll be around Monday. Only the AIDS tie is keeping me sane. 5 comments <b>[12 Sep 2005|10:08pm]</b> <b>[ mood | beer me ]</b> Not to mention Basketball. <b>[12 Sep 2005|10:58pm]</b> Eleven & I'm still returning emails from students. This isn't a job. This is. Well. Either who you are? Or it isn't. I feel like I've finally come home. <b>[12 Sep 2005|10:59pm]</b> <b>[ mood | mojo ]</b> Though I do miss college freshman. Discipline was so much easier! I would just conversationally pulverize them. But these kids are well. Delicate. Iron fist. Velvet glove. 2 comments <b>[13 Sep 2005|07:56pm]</b> Ever since Rachael left I've been drinking myself dead. Don't even recognize myself. But then I've never wanted to. 4 comment <b>[13 Sep 2005|08:03pm]</b> <b>[ mood | 12 hrs ]</b> Must make kids dangerous before I die. 2 comments <b>[14 Sep 2005|12:08am]</b> <b>[ mood | despair ]</b> The day starts. "Penny the self pinching penny colored pen decided that she could no longer afford to waste her preciuos ink on valentines. From now on, she would only sign checks. & other things equally precious." The day ends. Frank Stanford's "Memory is like a Shotgun Kicking You Near the Heart." <b>[15 Sep 2005|06:05pm]</b> <b>[ mood | burn ]</b> <b>[ music | elliott smith- needle in the hay ]</b> It's not getting any good. 1 comment[/quote]