The Working Man Blues

I was a little bummed earlier this week. I walked around like a mopey loser. I caught some sort of flu bug and was sick for the weekend, and on top of that, I found out I was not eligible for health insurance for the "Extraordinary" U.niversity I work for. Nice. I feel like I should be in the "Borat" movie:

Human Resources: "You are eligible for health insurance. Not!"
Eastern European Me: "You are NOT eligible for health insurance."

I'm over it. Here's hopin' my appendix doesn't burst. Hold up, already did, sucka. Here's my rant: I am one of the 45 million Americans without health insurance. Someone please insure me or marry me.

I'm such an activist.

Yesterday, I was handing out candy to the trick-or-treaters and this sweet, little dude came up dressed as a pirate and I said, "What are you, a pirate?" And his little voice said, "I'm Jack Sparrow!" Except he couldn't say his "r"'s and it was basically the cutest thing I ever heard. Happy Halloween, brother!

It was about a vermillion degrees below zero today. My sleeveless orange vest ain't cutting it so well anymore. What am I saying? I'll just get me some long johns.

You know that scene in "Dead Poet's Society" where they throw a blanket over that kid's head and make him say a poem and he's all turning in circles? Sometimes, (or all the time) I want to re-enact that. I just want to close my eyes and start spinning around while saying things like, "reaching, burning, wandering ... from the day we enter this world ... spitting, shunning ... leave this world ..." I just think this is the only way I can truly be a poet. It would also be helpful to my life if Robin Williams would show up once in awhile. Sheesh.

I once held hands with a boy in the dark at a college house party. We were alone in a bedroom, and the cops were on the other side of the hallway thumping their way in, and we stayed in that room, holding hands and whispering. I saw him later in the cafeteria and he called me "trouble" and I couldn't remember his name.

I'd remember yours, though.