In My Mind

In My Mind

I’d been talking to a girl I liked, Sue, at my second job as a bus boy at the Lake Buena Vista dining room—English lit not being my only concern in life—where Sue also worked.

Would love be a close second? 

My dissertation title was evidence of the confabulated nature of English depts in 1999—Recreation and Rehabilitation of Number Six: The Theme Park As Rhetorical Model in The Prisoner. 

Sue let loose one of her honking farts and that shook me from her,— not a serious interest of mine anyway.

Who would be a serious interest?

There was a red head in my linguistics class and a brunette in my fiction workshop. 

During the winter semester, I had taken a narratology class with Dr. Grove and in that class a distracted blonde circulated amongst the male grad students,— excepting of course me; she had a way of referring to freshmen as 'freshmens' —snobbish of me, hmmm.

These thoughts have occurred to me more than once today (evidence in my commonplace book).