3:38 pm
brain rinse. there is an admittedly long walk from the brick heart of campus back to my haunted little cottage home apartment where the stench of old money is something my numb tongue never tasted before. thoughts are free to form and melt along the sun shaded trees and root-ruined bike path with the bells to signify an approach, a close brush with tires and the horn of a backing up truck, the eyes of a French teacher checking our eyes for dots or punctuation or the roaming peripheries. But why worry about visible cheating when no one is certain the knowledge of anyone else. It is not a test of individual knowledge, rather one of stealth and quick snap judgment that allows the cheater to stereotype all and picked out the best. It is genius selection. Knowing based on intuition the criminal-looking fellow in the police line up. However smiling. Remember childhood experiences. Musical chairs and the hilarious republican prospect of allowing teachers to have guns. I am trying to imagine my dear little old middle school teachers packing heat and everyone feeling safer as opposed to horrified that those who discipline the trouble makers have a gun rack next to the coat rack next to the mommy packed lunch table and the finger paints.
Lost it.
