Today has been the worst day. I gave a bad lecture about Murakami. I could not get a single coherent thought out. I kept saying dumb things like, "It's so confusing; I don't understand who anybody is in these stories." Class ended and I went to make photo copies of some important documents that pertain to the future that I do not want. Then I went to a coffee shop to read a novel for a class about time and the novel that I am taking. The narrator is an old misanthrope. It was raining heavily outside. A man in this late forties claimed the stool beside me and made an annoyingly loud puffing noise as he bent down to plug in his computer. Then he started placing phone calls to hotels, looking to rent a room. He seemed more out of it than I was. He talked very loudly. Then his cell phone rang and holy fuck! his ring tone was identical to my wake up alarm tone—identical but much louder. In any case, I drove home and purchased three potatoes on the side of the road. (They are still in my briefcase.) Then I went upstairs to paint the ceiling of the vacant apartment, even though I needed turpentine and had none, still have none, I just went ahead and painted anyway, and now that I am done with my dinner, ah, dinner! I must run out to WalMart to fetch paint thinner. Then that's it. This day needs to end. I wanted to kill this blog today.