As I walked down the infamous North High Street of Columbus City five or six hours ago, before getting here and starting to do this, I tried to conciliate my own thoughts about you. This required me to reconstruct the memories of you that I've gathered over time, whether of the numerous occasions that I've stalkingly walked so closely behind you or of the more intimate times I've had you right in the palm of my hand… or of watching your face close-up from remote as you’re enraptedly hanging to each little word I say.
In order to soothe me and relax my mind enough that I can go through with the effort, I unzip my Jansport knapsack and take out my ultra small portable Sony MiniDisc Player MZ-E30, and set it to repeat track 3 of my recently purchased Vienna Boy's Choir mini disc, Mozart's “Sancta Maria, mater Dei,” conducted by Uwe Christian Harrer. Not that the engaged earphones or my disguise - Oakleys rather than my usual Calvin Klein sunglasses - kept people from approaching me and thus breaking my train of thought. While I successfully ignored everyone’s cheering and waving at me as I passed in front of the Flying Tomato on my way down from the House - which was a real accomplishment, really, the streetfront deck was its typical late-spring-late-sunny-afternoon totally packed - this guy I know from Sammy that was tossing the football at another Sammy guy from across the street on the Long's side decided to toss it to me and so I was not only forced to halt my concentration in order to concentrate on catching it, but I had to toss it back, an image thing, nothing more, and then that wasn't all, since I had to even take my earphones off too because the guy on this side was saying something to me, which turned out to be something about was I coming to the cookout tonight at the Delta's, that the 6-pack 'phos would be there, to which I responded “You bet, dude” and humored him by doing the elaborate little handshake-greeting ritual thing with him. Then a homeless individual I guess took advantage of my unshielded ears to ask me if I could spare some change, to which I responded: “Why yeah. As a matter of fact I can. Yourself?” and I left him standing there with this like totally puzzled look on his face and put the earphones back on and the track is still running but the music inexplicably continues from the exact same point where I had left it a minute or so ago, right where that little kid hits the high C - very weird, as I never hit pause or rewind and MD's aren't supposed to skip. Pondering this odd occurrence stole a good 6 to 7 additional minutes from my thinkings of you. Then this really cute Hindu-American chick, Poonam, whom I had sex with the other day and is wearing oversized Jackeline Kennedy style Chanel sunglasses, recognized me from a block away – it’s official now, this disguise effectively sucks, maybe I should get Carreras and see if that way I can at least throw some people off - but to its credit, though, she did need to make sure and raise the Oakleys off the bridge of my nose from the frames with both hands using thumb and forefinger as we stood face to face, to see my eyes, which by the way I had a hard time prying away from her naked legs to acknowledge her beautiful smiling face with the polite and appropriate eye-contact. I also even smiled during the regular “Hi, what's up, so how you been” crap, but not really at her - rather at my own reflection on her Chanels and I puckered my lips at my reflection and winked at it, congratulating myself internally on how good I looked, and of course she puckered her own lips and winked back as she (the dumb bitch) thought all that was directed at her, which I thought was pretty funny and laughed loudly about.
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...by now a serious several hours later...
...having ultimately surrendered any further thoughts of you...
...in order to finish this...part III of Jeff Kipnis’ seminar’s “final exam”...
...the part III instructions reading, write a narrative...
...exactly 2,000 words...
...on anything...
...that pops into your head...
...grading criteria: don’t justify the paragraphs if you wanna pass this course...
...so I made good...
...my ass has long since given up screaming ‘uncle’ from my being sitting on it this long, however busy typing, for the goal, pass this seminar, my VERY...LAST...COURSE,
and get the heck out of C.C., OH...
...fat and bald Hank Giorlando will be collecting the papers
in the box by “Yellow-6” at 2 A.M., or in exactly...
...22 minutes...
...lone cursor had been blinking annoyingly in the upper left corner of the blank 13.3” XGA active matrix (TFT) screen I'd been staring dumbly at, ‘till it came...
locution. Locution’s right, Mr. “Dee” Rector, sure, and especially circumlocution,
to get me through this task:
Keep on the circumlocution, and now so close I can taste it.
Yes I can taste the snack I'll treat myself to when I'm done allright, a really scrumptious-looking, perfectly formed, light cinnamon to creamy yellow, glistening, and glazed 22-F-NJ donut of equally glazed hazel eyes that seldom blink of late, 36-25-38 but or long mascara'd lashes that seem to flutter in slow-mo during alternate periods of sporadic excitement, 5'10" I've left laying atop my extremely well lit rectangular dinner table at home. Donna. No, seriously. Furry pussycat, smooth cat pussy. It'll be big fish eat little fish time, baby, or have you Chinese boxes time in the end.