Coming back from the bathroom, Garote leans down to inspect an irregular lump on the floor.
"Ooo! Cat barf!" he exclaims. He looks closer and sees the scurrying black dots.
"Hey, the ants are eating it, too!" he calls out to Skot, in the other room. Skot is busy typing and answers with a "Hmmm?"
"I'll type it out" says Garote, and proceeds to do so. Thus goes, and thus has gone, a very odd day.
I wake up at 8:30, but decide to get a little extra time in bed, so I commence wiggling my left toe as a constant signal to keep myself from falling back to sleep as I lie there and think of the day ahead. I was up earlier than usual so I could check in with my math teacher about my final before going to my CS final at 10:00 am. On my way to the car I sing "Oh What a Beautiful Morning" at the top of my lungs in an annoying falsetto. Dogs bark.
I drive to Cabrillo, eating an egg McMuffin on the way. Yeech. I decide that if I have Yvonne in the car later today I would endeavor to hide the wrapper. Embarassing eating habits and all that.
Davidson's office light is on, but he is not there. I stroll around for a while, and as I am looking the other way standing outside his office I hear footsteps. I turn around and there he is.
I hold out my arms and go "poof!" in admiration of his sudden appearance.
"Now don't get personal!" he says, and smiles. I laugh.
I go into his office and discover I earned a C. "Well at least you passed the course!" he says. I am nonplussed. I ask him if there is anything I can do. He replies "Not unless you turn in a stack of work about a foot deep." This I do not have. Half a foot, maybe.
I meet another student dropping in to check on his final. He is also in my discrete math class. He earned a C from Davidson also, and we compare experiences. At the time I am thinking to myself "Shit, I'm really better than him at math. Why did I slack off so much? I needed this grade."
He mentions that the Discrete Math class met yesterday. I am shocked. Could he be joking?
The final I was going to present-- I had had the teacher run off 20 copies of two pages of notes I'd prepared, to be passed out to the class when I presented my project. I had the final page today, and my presentation speech. Could I have missed the whole thing?
I excuse myself and run accross the campus to her office. The room is dark. I realize that I might as well go to my CS final, since it has already been in progress for five minutes.
I walk to the room it takes place in. The room is empty. I am confounded. Perhaps I didn't catch the schedule change, and the final was at 7:00 am instead of 10:00 am? Perhaps everyone has left? Wondering what to do, I jog back to Davidson's room to see if Yvonne has stopped by. I dash down to the cafeteria but she is not there either. I put the CS problem out of my mind and consider the Discrete Math class.
My big presentation was actually a prepared P.R. stunt in that class that I had set up a few weeks ago to push my GPA consideration a little higher with the teacher. I might get on her good side if I appeared to be so proficient in the subject matter being taught that I could teach my fellow students additional information. I was indeed that proficient, it was just a matter of setting it up to make the effort worthwhile. My, what a slacker I am.
But now it is too late. Glumly, I think "I wonder what she thinks of me NOW, now that I've had her run off 20 pages of notes and then flaked."
I walk down around past bus stop and accross street towards the computer lab. As I do this I reflect that during the time I was supposed to have been presenting the project in the lab yesterday, I was over the hill at my Dad's final school faculty picnic. He's retiring after summer school this year, so this would be the very last one I could attend. I bonded with him, talked with my older and younger sisters in a closer way than I had all month. I even set up a movie date for tommorrow with my older sister.
I wondered- would it have actually been worth it? That family contact was so important, felt so right, was I actually better off there than in some lab room gesticulating before a group of students? ...Even if it meant my grade?
I knew that to make such a presentation would make me feel capable and confident and all those good things, and it would have made my grade to boot. On the other hand, no matter how much of a success it could have been, I would have still missed those vital moments with my family. At the picnic we discussed our german ancestry and ate barbecued chicken. I had some lovely chats with my Dad's faculty of 30-odd years and felt like I belonged in the thick of society, which was kind of a strange sensation.
I mused that it would have gone better if I'd gotten more than three hours of sleep the previous night. Any presentation I could have made that day would have probably been shoddy. I couldn't really put up a fight with myself about the whole occurrence. The time with the family had felt so right. Had the universe done me a disservice- or a favor?
I guess it depended on how well I could apologize to my Discrete Math instructor.
As I walk I wonder what the best approach would be. Should I pretend I still thought it was today at six, or should I confess my mistake up front? Either way, I need to print out the final pages of notes for the since-departed class, to follow the rule of CYA. So I arrive at the lab, with this as my intention.
The lab is closed.
Ha ha! But the door is unlocked. I walk right in.
Inside I meet Kathleen's mom servicing computers, and say hello. I get permission to print from the sysop, who is in the main office running maintenance. She turns on the printer server and inserts a stack of paper.
Knowing that I don't have access to a word processor on my own account, I log in as five different people before finding one account that does. If the sysop were to check the logs later (if any existed), she would find that three women and two men had logged in during my visit, four of them for less than 20 seconds. Nervously, I print out my documents and shut down the Mac. I realize that I do not have my print card.
I show the sysop my printouts (under the guise of showing off, but mostly to reenforce the idea that I am 'on the level', using school supplies for school activities, even though I hacked the password system to do so.) I pull the change from yesterday's falafel out of my pocket and offer to pay for the paper. Smiling, the sysop says to forget about it.
Happy to put some distance between myself and the lab system logs, I tromp back accross the street. On my way back up to check my DM teacher's office, I stop in to the administration building on a whim and visit my counselor, which I haven't done in a semester. He assures me that taking the DM class instead of the extra math class should be no problem, and we figure out what grades I need in light of my C in math. I need a B in Physics (which it seemed I was assured in getting until I took the final) and DM, and an A in the CS class (which I may have missed the final for) to have a GPA of 3.09. Whew. Close, as usual.
My DM teacher's office is still dark. The CS class is still unoccupied. I pass by Davidson again, and meet Peter and Jon Lau. Mike is leaving to administer a final and will be back in about ten minutes, at which time he will be able to consult with Peter. Peter decides to wait around. I tell him to keep an eye out for Yvonne. He and I share a laugh and I wave goodbye.
I go to the Cafeteria. There I meet Skot. I am antsy and excuse myself several times to run around from building to building. For whom I search, I do not know specifically. Maybe I hope to run into my Physics teacher. Maybe I'll spot Yvonne on her bike and scream for her to wait. My mind is muddled by the extreme wrong turn my life has taken since breakfast.
Skot and I adjourn to the steps outside the Math Lab. The particulars of this you know from Skot. I stroll through the lab a few times, run aimlessley around the Science building, and keep an eye on Davidson's office to see if anyone interesting shows up. Eventually I walk up to him and ask if he has already talked with Peter. He says yes. I ask if Kathleen has showed up today. He says no. A little while later I ask him what I had really wanted to know all along. I ask about Yvonne.
He says he's never heard of her before.
"She sat behind me during the final."
"I can't remember" he says.
"She's taken the course three times. She turned the final in last, right after me."
A blank look.
"Dark brown hair? Tangles a lot? She twirls it in her fingers sometimes. She usually sits in the front of the class and asks really tough questions. She wears shorts all the time, tennis shoes...?"
He shakes his head. He has no idea.
(I suspected, hours later, that he may have been covering for her. After all, he has her email address and everything, how could he just forget her like that? Oh well. He had his reasons. Protecting her from a freak like me may have been on his mind. I'm not the kind of mess you introduce into a person's life without some pretty careful forethought, I imagine.)
After a bit more running around, to the Cafeteria and bookstore, Skot and I pile into the car and I drive him to the library. He realizes he forgot to deliver a letter to the Administration building and says he will just mail it. I say I will have none of that, and drive him back up to the Administration building. I consider driving through the middle of the campus but don't because there are still many people around. I boot him from the car and badger him jokingly to run.
After I drop him off, I take a brief cruise around the construction site. I realize that there is no clear path through the campus any more (unlike the first week I was at Cabrillo when I unwittingly drove my car straight through the middle of the campus on the wide pedestrian walkways). I cruise back and pick up Skot.
Skot and I break into song, and stick one foot out the window. On a whim I decide to visit Peter's house.
There I meet Peter, Jon, and Ruthie, whom I haven't seen in years. Ruthie seemed really appealing and gave me a shy smile. I realized that I was being ridiculous chasing after Yvonne on her bike when I'm meeting people like Ruthie that are already within my circle of friends. I decide then and there to spend more time with Ruthie in the future, but resign myself to the fact that I'm probably going to go running around a lot more after Yvonne's shadow before the day is out.
In the house I spot a 'for sale' sign, which Peter says I can keep. Another sign says 'For Rent', but Peter still wants that one. After I chat with Peter and compare math finals, Peter and Ruthie leave to go downtown.
I walk to the car and say bye to Peter and Ruthie. I shake Ruthie's hand. I remember it is dry, heavy, and very warm. I walk back and throw the For Sale sign over the trunk into the back seat, and take out the bongo drums. I play bongo drums on the car hood, and chat with Skot. A guy walks out of the nearby house to toss some garbage. He has no shirt on and his pants are almost halfway down, exposing boxer shorts. "He's pretty good looking" I think, "but not my type."
Some surfer dudes park in front of us, facing us. They exit and begin unpacking into the house. They ask if we're waiting for someone. They ask if we want go go smoke some buds with them. I say "No, not during finals week", not wanting to appear to diss them. I reflect that, drug habits or no, these people are friendlier and more laid back than most of the folks I've seen in Santa Cruz all year. I find it refreshing. I consider their lifestyle and decide that it would not be enough for me, though.
One of the guys asks where I go to school. I say Cabrillo. He seems to approve. Skot and I leave and drive to 7-11. A police car pulls in next to us. A man in plain clothes gets out of the passenger seat and enters the store to visit the ATM machine. Skot and I get a double gulp and I pay for it with the change still in my pocket.
Skot and I drive to the microscopic park next to Andy's house, which is close to Skots impending Opthamologist appointment. We sing Walter Westinghouse in the car before heading out to the grass.
Sipping, we reflect that "we used to just be able to walk into that house and use the stereo and eat the stuff in the fridge, but now we absolutely can't!"
I reflect that "I expect to just drive over here out of habit some day, see Andy, spend the day with him, and drive home before I realize that anything's wrong- that he's in Michigan and I just did something very impossible- and then either go completely insane or take it at face value and forget about it."
Skot says: "Also, we know everything about the layout of that guy's house, and he doesn't know it." "Yeah," I agree, "like how bad the basement stinks on hot days."
I play the Bungo Drums, sitting on the metal mesh box covering the water valves at side of park. Skot reads a clipboard next to me.
A little kid dashes up with a tiny bike, slams the bike to the sidewalk, and endeavors to play the drums with me. Skot finds out his name is Tommy. Tommy constantly turns the drums around between my knees to get at the better sounding drum, which is always the one I'm playing. He turns the drums around at least twenty times before demanding that we watch him hop like a frog, which he does. I make a ribbit noise for him and he makes his own version, loud and with a lot of spittle, sounding more like a sloppy fart.
Tommy claims that Skot is a vampire because he has fangs. Skot grins wider.
Tommy demands that we watch him wrestle the other kids. One particular kid is wearing a shirt with ENGLAND emblazoned upon it. I ask him if he's ever been to England. He says no. After a few minutes he says that he has been to London. I remark that London is IN England. I think he understood me. He seemed intelligent enough. Smarter than Tommy, at any rate.
Tommy wants our full attention back so he steals the clipboard Skot is reading. Skot has to chase him to get it back. Tommy's mother tells him to return it and he slams it to the ground, miffed.
Later, while wrestling, someone pulls Tommys pants down and he runs around with them around his ankles, yelling. He walks up to me, holding his shirt up, points down to his penis, and proudly says "look!"
Dutifully (to satisfy him and make him quit bugging me) I look at it and say "I've got one of those too!"
Skot chimes in: "Sure! We all do!"
Tommy says "Vampires don't have winkies!" looking at Skot suspiciously.
Skot laughs. "Yes we do!" he says.
"They're probably just left out of the drawings." I say matter-of-factly to Tommy, but he's already turned around and commenced boxing with one of his playmates.
Eventually Skot and I have had enough of Tommy the Terrible, and walk to the Opthamologist's office, I still carrying the bongo drums.
During Skot's appointment I am suddenly possessed by the feeling that something very important is happening somewhere, and I should be there now. I run outside and dash around, trying to figure out why. I get the feeling that it has to do with either Yvonne or Ruthie. I decide to walk back to the car and drive it to the Opthamologist's building. To my relief, Tommy and hiw crew have left he park. Skot finishes his appointment and we drive to Peter's house again.
There we meet Pat and John, preparing to leave to go over the hill to buy a stereo. I tell Jon about the time I drove to Fry's just last week to get a DX2/66 chip for my computer. Jon is properly unimpressed.
Skot and I head back to Cabrillo and I visit Davidson again. Smiling, he flat out tells me to leave. I tell him to have a nice summer. He says he'll try.
I jog accross the campus, and finally meet Sue Nerton in her office. I tell her about my mix-up. She seems amicable enough, and since I am empty handed I depart to run back to the car for the notepapers I printed out earlier in the day.
As Skot and I are heading back, we wander into a room with flyers all over the chairs. It has a nice big chalkboard on one wall, and Skot and I give a lecture: Slack 101. We talk about Norse Goddess Waitresses, BOB, work, frop, pinkboys,... the usual. And we illustrate it all, of course. Skot embellishes the work with many names of famous philosophers.
We like the work so much that we decide to photograph it for posterity. Skot 'guards' the piece while I continue on to the car to get the papers and the camera.
I stop at the bathroom and say hello to Davidson again, to his consternation. I grab the notes and camera, run back to the room (Skot is still there, guarding, reading a book), and take several pictures of our inspiration.
After I deliver the papers to Sue, I visit the cafeteria one more time looking for Yvonne or god knows who. I walk back to physics building and meet up with Skot. Walking uphill to car I think I see Yvonne riding her bike. I dash in that direction like a madman (mostly for the exercise because I had already ascertained that it wasn't her.) Indeed, it is only Some Other Girl(tm).
Skot and I go to the car, and drive to Peter's house again. This time we meet Peter, his roomie friend (who looks like Jack), and Mo. I tell Mo "The last time I saw you, you were incapacitated!" He says he doesn't know what I'm talking about. I don't feel like embarrassing him, (I'd seen him passed out drunk on the lawn at Vergon's party last year, smelling of vomit) so I say no more. Of course, it may very well be that he actually doesn't remember the evening in question. He was pretty sotzed. I'd heard later that after I left the party, he woke up, drank some more, and passed out again.
After some bullshitting, I drive back to Scotts Valley, drop off Skot, and stop at my house to eat some food before going to the MST3K movie. Skot and I drive back to Santa Cruz, meet Torrey in the theatre, and watch the movie. Afterwards Skot and I are a bit pekish, so we decide not to stop by Peter's but to go to the Falfel hut instead. But first, on a whim, I drive to cabrillo for one last wander around.
We pass by the room with the chalkboard, and a meeting is in progress with many foods. The chalkboard has been erased.
I approach my CS classroom and see people in it. I take off running. I appear in the doorway and see my teacher at the front desk. I glance at the clock. The final has been in progress for an hour and a half. I am carrying NOTHING. The teacher immediately pulls out the final and hands it to me. Everything takes on a red-tinted nightmare edge.
I have no choice. I borrow some paper and a pen from him, find a desk and set the materials on it. I walk out to Skot and explain the situation. Can he wait for an hour while I do this final? He says he can. I walk back inside and sit down. I look over the final. Not bad. Wish I had a printout of my previous work, but things are okay. This won't take long. I look up at the chalkboard. In big letters it says "OPEN BOOK, NO NOTES." I pause to reflect on the irony. Yesterday I sold my book back to the bookstore for forty bucks.
I do as much of the test as I can before I ask the guy next to me if I can borrow his book. We construct a deal where I am to deliver it to him at ten in the morning near the 500 building tomorrow. Just as he is about to hand me the book, my teacher, John, pipes up: "What's going on back there?"
My friend says "I'm letting him borrow my book."
John looks surprised. "you can just use mine" he says, and pulls his teacher's edition out of his briefcase.
A half an hour after the class is over, I hand him the final, and ask him how I'm doing in the class. He says it'll depend heavily on this final. Internally, I am not bothered. The final was easy. The situation had just been BAD.
By the time Skot and I get there the falafel hut is closed, so we go to the Scotts Valley Round Table for pizza. I sprint over to the laserdisc store but they are closed. We order the vegetarian suprime, a garlic-laden feast. We rehash the day, and decide to write it all down at my house.
5:30 A.M. Scott's Day Begins
At five o'clock the alarm next to my bed rings. I look at it and decide that I deserve more sleep, since I didn't get to sleep the night before until nine-thirty. I wake up again at 5:30 and then get up and take a shower. At six o'clock I'm out of the shower and by six-thirty I'm dressed. I decide to walk around and pick up a few dollars from every money source in the house, which brings me a sum of five dollars. Then I go downstairs, back to my room, before anybody has woken up.
At some point, I decide that I would enjoy seeing the sunrise, as I haven't done this all week in spite of the fact that I've been waking up early. So I go upstairs and begin to heat the water for my breakfast (oatmeal) and look outside for a short time, generally relishing the chatter of birds and early morning air. I am content for a few minutes. However, this mood is quickly destroyed.
At 6:30, my dad, groggy and being himself, walks into the kitchen and turns on the radio. I suppress the urge to ask: "You like to start your day that way?" and I turn back to making breakfast. The latest headline has to do with social protest. Yesterday, a group of students, joined by S.C. mayor Mike Rotkin, protested the conviction of a man who committed burglary to support his heroin addiction and keep alive. My father, only being himself, makes some typical derisive comment.
I say:
"But don't you know, that's an ancient philosophical argument."
"I don't have any argument."
Then I said:
"Well don't you see, it's a question of free will. This question goes all the way back to St. Anselm in the fourth century. He asked: 'Is a man simply the product of his environment, or is he a rational, self-determining being with free will?' More recently, John Stuart Mill, as we know, argued for free will and self-determination. Nietzsche, on the other hand, believed that a person was shaped almost entirely by his past experiences. This was called "Psychological Determinism", a complex sounding term for a fairly simple idea. Of course, all these philosophers must have it one way or the other. None of them, as yet, sees any way in which these two views can be combined, rationalized, as it were. It's unfortunate that people such as yourself and Mike Rotkin must insist on keeping this kind of attitude alive and well."
I actually didn't say that. I made that up. I only thought that. It would have been amusing, though, to have compared my dad to a person he (apparently) dislikes (though I think this is a pathetic act), and shown that they were actually similar in a particular stupid way. If only because I enjoy watching people who are too lazy and/or stupid to think more than one step into some matter squirm. Okay, I'll admit it. I'm a jerk.
So, after not lecturing my dad on the philosophy of the Western world, and its traditions regarding questions of free will with its attendant contemporary implications (please excuse the... heh... polysyllables... I didn't make them up), I went downstairs and practiced the piano. I practiced my scales, and generally did boring things. Then, after I finished, I read verses from Walt Whitman's "Song of Myself" out loud, thinking, he will start his day with death and hate, I will start mine with music and poetry.
At 8:00, I went back upstairs, because it was time for me to leave the house. I got in my car and drove down to the Zanotto's parking lot. I left my car there and got a cup of coffee. On my way to the coffeeshop I found twelve cents on the ground. A car almost hit me. Then I waited for the bus.
I get to the Santa Cruz Metro station and walk over to my next bus. A person there is standing at the front of the bus putting his bicycle up on the front rack. I enquire about the new bike racks that all these buses now have. Have they ever failed? No, he assured me.
I was an hour early for my math final, in the end. I met someone on the bus whom I didn't want to talk to. I talked to him for a half-hour about bicycles. Then I talked to someone else whom I didn't want to talk to. I only talked to him for five minutes, long enough for him to tell me that he'd joined some band. Apparently they were famous, but I'd never heard of them. I didn't let on that I was clueless and encouraged him to leave by saying that I was heading in the opposite direction that he was facing. (I actually was thinking about going in the other direction, because the library was in that direction and there was a certain... You'll see.)
So I headed into the library. I wanted to go there, ostensibly to pick up a job app for the following semester, which I did not do. A certain Italian verb had been bugging me all morning, scendere, which (I hoped) means to climb. Did I have it right? I looked it up, and I did have it right. I made up a neat little phrase in Italian right there: La scimmia scenda con sciroppo, "The monkey climbs with syrup."
I went into the stacks and grabbed a German grammar book for a technical question which there's no point in going into here. I saw the person I talked to about the bike racks working in the "employees only" section of the library. While checking out this book (and some other strange book I grabbed accidentally) I talked to a very pretty librarian with a very nice body. I forgot about the job application.
I took my math final in fortyfive minutes. There is this one girl in that class who sits up near the front. She is gorgeous. I half considered waiting there for a while until she got up to turn in her paper, just so I could see her get up one last time. (My thoughts were stimulated by the librarian, you see.) I decided that she could probably take until one o'clock or so, and I didn't want to wait this long, so I went to the cafeteria.
I went into the cafeteria, and ordered a veggie burger. I looked at a guy who said something the previous day about a girl I'd met in an English class last semester. She, also, is gorgeous. She was nowhere in sight, however, and he was saying nothing today, so I concentrated my energies on nothing.
Garrett showed up.
"Hey," says he. "When did you show up here?"
"What do you mean?" I ask. "Here, Cabrillo, or here, cafeteria?"
"Cabrillo."
"Nine."
"Me too."
Garrett then tells me his tale of woe, which you can read about in his account.
I eat my burger, and bad tabouli salad, and when I'm finished, Garrett comes back from his runnings around and I stand up.
"I need to copy out the stuff in this German book," I say, "So I need some paper."
Garrett offers me the newspaper he'd been reading.
I look around, Garrett disappears. I search all over the place (the cafeteria) and I've just about given up when I start to put a dime in the copy machine, which actually was the dime that I found that morning on my way to the coffeeshop.
"What are you doing?" Garrett says suddenly, surprising me. I had no idea he was there.
"Well, what I want to do is..."
At that point, I shift my eyes and realize that there is a bucket of discarded white paper on the floor next to the copy machine.
"Cool!" I grab some paper out of the basket.
After our many long wanderings about the campus, he and I end up at the top of campus, in the 700 building.
"I'll just wait here on the steps and copy these things out, Garrett, and you can keep looking for your teachers, and What's-her-name."
He agrees, etc etc
As we head towards the car, Garrett updates me on his situation more fully. I begin to get a grasp of the situation he's in that I didn't understand before. While we move towards the car, for some reason we stop in the pathway. Up the walkway an ex-girlfriend of mine walks. I pretend not to see her. This is easier because I'm wearing sunglasses. However, I look at her when she's past and she is looking at me. Ah well. Cover blown. Ex-girlfriend disappears....
We head out, but I remind Garrett that I need to return my library materials. He drives me up to the library (front door service) and instructs me to run. This I do. I run into the library and return my stuff. I look around for the really attractive librarian, but she is not there, so I turn around and walk back to Garrett's car.
Garrett now drives me up to the administration building so I can register for my summer class. He also instructs me to run this time, but this time I don't, opting instead to laugh. He drives away.
I go up and submit my registration. I meet an asshole in a straw hat and khaki shorts whom I didn't like the first time I met him. I leave quickly. Garrett is waiting, pretending to be snoring. I laugh. At some point we sang the philosopher song from Monty Python, because I was reading about David Hume and mentioned this.
I turn to Garrett as we drive, as he describes his plight.
"Oh," I say nonchalantly. "Did I tell you?"
"What?"
"You're in Hell."
Garrett laughed.
So we go down to Peter's (Graves) house and stand around. I meet a bunch of people. Peter, John, Pat, and Ruthie. I also don't meet three other people who also were there. I see a kitchen and look at the spines of books. I also notice what appears to be a pornographic picture on the wall. I only look at this long enough to notice it is actually a collage of some sort, but I don't examine it, yet.
Peter and Ruthie leave, and Garrett speculates on what they're doing together. I say it's possible, but maybe you're wrong. Yes, maybe, says Garrett. We sit on the trunk of his car and while he plays the drums I think about the eye appointment that I have to go to. Some surfers show up and ask us if we want to smoke any pot. We respectfully decline. I tell the surfer that I used to sell pot, but not any longer. I don't know what my point in this is, but it's a habit I've gotten into, so people don't think I'm a puritan right off the bat.
I decide that I am "thirstier than fuck" and tell Garrett this. Accordingly, we go up to the 7-11 and buy a Super Gonzo Gulp. Then we go down to the park. Everything is as Garrett described it. I read his list of "Things to Do" and also his two-page rant about life, for the second time. I ruminated. I was in a pensive mood. However, this mood is quickly destroyed.
Tommy showed up. He dropped his bike on the sidewalk and smiled at Garrett, who was playing the drums. Tommy tried to join in, etc.
Read Garrett's account for Tommy.
I went to see the Eye Doctor (tm). Garrett came in with me, and waited. I had to sit and wait for some time while Garrett read "Highlights" magazine, puking at Goofus and Gallant. At some point, this Clint Eastwood type character comes out of a room and tells me to follow him. I follow him. This character was my eye doctor.
I go into the little room and sit down in the chair. The doctor begins asking me all this variety of questions about my health, family health, eyesight health, etc. After the examination, he concludes that I am slightly nearsighted, but not nearsighted enough to warrant buying a pair of glasses. He demonstrates this by running his letter projector. I look at the set of letters, and then he puts these two lenses over my eyes. The letters get clearer.
"See?" he asks. I almost laugh.
Then I leave the office and look for Garrett. He isn't there. So I use the bathroom. I piss. I do too have a winkey.
When I leave the bathroom, Garrett was back, trying on various pairs of sunglasses. He didn't like a one.
We leave. I realize that I "forgot" to pay the $25 for the insurance deductable, for which I may catch hell later. Heh heh. We go back to Peter's house, and this time John is there, waiting for Pat. No Peter. I wander around for a bit. They talk about Garrett's computer. I laugh. Pat shows up and directs us towards the collage which I had only looked at briefly before. The body of a woman in lingerie has been tacked onto Ruthie's head. A hand holding an erect, red penis has been placed in such a way as to suggest that the man to Ruthie's left was jerking off. We all point at this collage and laugh very hard. Pat then shows Garrett over to a script tacked onto the wall. He laughs very hard. I read some, and laugh as well, but I don't think it's as funny. I guess he was reading different pages. I look at books while everyone talks.
We went back to Cabrillo. While Garrett wandered around, I was lured into the classroom which housed the English class I dropped out of in the beginning of the year by little pink slips of paper promising money. Garrett gave a lecture on Slack to me in the room, drawing picutres of Bob, a Pinkboy, and the words 'Frop, Slack, and Denny's (with the Norse Goddess Waitress). After he was finished I went up and wrote a bunch of philosopher's names and some quotes on the board. Garrett drew lines connecting them, and we took pictures of the board and pictures of each other "lecturing".
We began to walk back to the car, but Garrett said he wanted to check the cafeteria one last time. I walked over to the Lang building while he ran around. I'd heard that my Spanish class was changing teachers, but it wasn't.
We drive all the way back to Scotts Valley. After I get five dollars from my Mom, I call Torrey and invite her to see MST3K. We agree to go down and watch it. My brother insists on using the phone right then, so I can't return any of my messages.
I run down to Garrett's house and sit in his car. Begin writing "How To Scream In German", a project I never completed.
Petunia, the cat, joins me in the car, and then leaves for no particular reason.
We go to the movie. I get Torrey to join Garrett and I down in front. The movie is funny. Watch it. I swear. Watch it. Listen, fucker! WATCH THAT FUCKING MOVIE!!!!
We walk to the corner. We say goodbye to Torrey, but somehow I don't really want to touch her. I don't know why. Garrett and I walk down to Garrett's car and decide to go to the Falafel hut.
We don't do this.
First we go to Cabrillo. Let Garrett describe what happened, here:
*chonk*
While Garrett was taking his test, I wandered all over campus. First, I walked down by the music building to find a payphone that worked, so I could return my messages. I called up my old work and they asked me if I wanted to work tomorrow. No, I didn't. But I could work on Saturday, if they needed help. Sure, we could use some help. Etc. Bullshit. Pretend like I don't mind working for my old boss again. Vow to start looking for another job so I have an excuse never to go back. I was in a very interesting mood after this. I continued walking around and reflecting on life, the universe, and everything (including a good cup of tea). This time, the mood was not quickly destroyed. I just wandered around the Lang building, because I knew I'd have a bunch of classes there next semester. I found my way into an English class and looked at the bookshelf. I considered taking a few books, but changed my mind at the last moment, leaving them.
I also found my way into a few physics classes in the Physics building a bit later, and grabbed a pen out of a shelf. I kept this for later.
Sometime after I got tired of wandering around the campus I walked over to the cafeteria, and bought a Snickers bar, after long consideration of all the various junk foods I could buy. I ate it.
Then I spent $1.50 on a stupid pinball machine, a really lame pinball game that was way too easy.
By then, however, I'd run out of stalling techniques, and walked back up to Garrett's for Garrett for a bit outside his class.
I found more paper in another white paper discard bin and wrote my little satire "Plexus & Nexus".
The rest is history, described by Garrett.
I can't believe I just spent so much time catalouging that day.