So I'm sitting at my desk, reading my cracked out 10-minute scene (note: never write under the influence of dayquil). I hear some guy downstairs talking really effing loudly and i think, "Self. Keep reading, read louder than that loud ass dude who's having a convo with some other annoying dude. Do your thing."

So I keep reading. Enthusiastically as I can be between my coughing fits, and after I've had my non-ego stomped into smithereens during our horrific class earlier this evening.

I keep reading, and then I notice that the streetlamp is violently shaking outside my window. I think "Earthquakes, in New York? It's the Day after Tomorrow!" (well we did have a hail storm last night, so it's not that far outside the realm of possibilities.)

No. It wasn't an earthquake. Just some guy, shimmying about on the streetlamp right outside my window. And I mean eye-level with me. I make eye-contact and then he says, "Sounds good!"

And I ran out of the room, faster than anything you've ever seen. I leapt out of that chair with a "holy shit!"



I snuck back in later and closed the window curtains.


Also. Some fun quotes from today:

me: I wish I could become an invisible speck so that no one will call on me for the rest of class.
The Pillowman: I can do that!
*hugs me*
The Pillowman: See. Now no one can see you!
Me: Can you just do that for the rest of class? Thanks.

D: I don't even smoke, but I'll be damned if you don't take it up by the end of the semester.

My Nemesis: (with the saddest face of all time) I thought writing was supposed to be fun.
Me: Hell no. Why do you think all writers are alcoholics.