January 7, 1997 Tuesday
January 7, 1997 was in a word, okay. First, let me ask how this strikes you: In French I have to do a report on Egypt. That’s Mrs. Spacey for you. Everyone always wonders why America is so far behind the world in education … It’s Mrs. Spacey!
Next item of business: Harold, my boss at LG Seeds, told me today he’ll only need me a few more weeks. After that, there isn’t much work in the germination lab. Now, maybe it’s just me, but one of the things I’ve had trouble with are expressions like “few,” “several,” and a “couple.” Is there some sort of definite value to these non-specific amounts?
Well, since it seems I’ve lost the reader again, I’ll move on. Our varsity basketball team lost by 30-odd points to Peoria Heights. At least we’re consistent. As I remember, that was pretty close to the outcome of Homecoming…
I really wish I had more to say, beyond the latest classes and whatnot. I wish I could discuss in detail everything, be a regular, debonair man of the world. Yet it seems I have exhausted my store of topics. From events long past to personal reflections to those poems, I simply have no more to write about. After all, I can take up a volume’s space with Top 12 lists only so many times. Even so, I have a burning desire to write, like trying to yell without no air in my lungs.
We’re beyond writer’s block,