I signed up for classes locally today because, according to Cornell, they want to see that I can manage a load of two courses while still working full time and blah-de-blah. This should be fun, because my first class is tomorrow night at 18:10, and I'm scheduled to work until 18:30. And it's a thirty to forty-five minute drive to classes, even though I can do it in less than half that I won't be able to because there will actually be other people on the road. Route 4 is ass, period. Now I get to drive it twice a week! Hooray! But when this is all over, I will be back at Cornell, Ivying it up, waiting for that six-figure salary and then the freelance writing potential that will let me spent maximum time with my kids while still working on my lucid novel. Telecommutation = New York-sized salary @ Kentucky-sized mortgage. My parents bought our house down there for $80k, which is about twice that in today's money. You cannot even buy a one-bedroom condo around here for that.
I think it would be interesting to go back in time and tie William Faulkner's hands to railroad tracks just in time for the 5:15. I thought my prose was dense, full of clauses with semicolons and long hyphens (—es) but I got nuthin on dat boy. So I guess I can no longer say I could never be a writer, just because my shit is heavy.
I sink to the bottom
of the bluest sea
I think so deep
you need gills to just to breathe
just to read me, fool
There's more at the bottom
than you'd ever even think
Everything that's thrown away
winds up in the drink
I got everything but the kitchen sink
Oh shit, it's the kitchen sink!