I’ve long suspected this, but the arrival today of the Edith Piaf 30th anniversary box set – load to me by Diane – confirms it, I am living in a Jean Pierre Jenet film. Thankfully the misenscene is more Le Fabuleux destin d’Amelie Poulain than Delicatessen, but some elements of City of Lost Children do seem to be lurking about the place. I have burned copies of this two CD set, which may transition Circle K into a full fledged lesbian bar. After all my pissing and moaning I am beginning to quite like my new desk – go figure. The Raise, the health care, and my new computer with flat screen monitor heals a bruised ego quite well. Also there is more light and life at my new desk and I have a jade plant to nurture. I think for a time I can be quite happy here. Of course I am drugged to the gills on allergy meds so this feeling of positive acceptance could be a drug-induced hallucination. The devil tempts both Hamlet and Descartes with Bishop Berkeley’s fictive monads in his efforts to Faust us all away.

The Monad Arrives:
I am being more productive out here as I am not getting bogged down by office conversations and negotiations of policy – this may well leave me out of the policy loop to some degree, but that could be a good thing – despite my title of administrative coordinator – more and more I am tech guy (this week I reprogrammed our phone system, ran 100 feet of Ethernet cable through the ceiling to this computer – learned how to re-network the software end our system from a student named Jack, installed a switch on said network to allow expansion of our network-etc.), operations manager, store manager – things that I thought I didn’t want to be, but actually to which I am quite well suited. The main problem is that I miss interacting with students – I miss my old life as a teacher – so there we have it – that is what I am mulling in circles – the return to the teaching life. And despite all the improvements in my remunerations I still sometimes feel like I could get fired at the drop of a hat – odd to feel so insecure after being offered so much security – my moodiness in the transition did not sit well and so I think that I might be on thin ice. That’s ok, I know how to thicken it in simple ways.

I have a bit of sadness today about some odd interactions last night – I went out singing with Beth and – without telling the full story primarily as it is her story to tell, or not, as she sees fit– a rowdy drunk guy crossed a line – shouting inappropriate things at her and she was rescued by the two sweetest gentlemen – Dennis and Virgil came to her aid. Dennis likes my voice. He danced with Beth. Virgil shared our table.

My story: I went into the men’s room and I was experience that effusive “I love this place” feeling that one sometimes has about bars and I noticed that the towel dispenser was shot – no plastic cover – towel roll about to fall off the bent hanger on which it was spooled. We just put in new towel dispensers at the HAC and a perfectly good old one was in the dumpster. McClain’s is just down the street from the HAC so I asked the bartender if they would like a replacement. She said I should ask the owner current owner – an odd implication – and she pointed him out. I went up to him and asked if he was the owner, “I am for today.” McClain’s parking lot has been torn out and replaced by a pylon for the extension of the metro-link. From this odd exchange I surmise that the bars days are numbered. He said I could drop off the dispenser if I wanted, so I borrowed Beth’s car and ran up and got it.
After I brought it back I was treated differently, not in a good way, this gesture seemed to have been too much, crossed some kind of line. Later in the evening, when I walked past the owner a guy next to him did a pantomime of dropping his pants so I would have a clear shot at his ass – read – long haired guy with diction in country bar is assumed to be gay and that’s a bad judgment in their redneck context – I’m not sure I’ll go there again. I’ve just realized my error. Why install a new towel dispenser in a condemned building? Why insult the owner with this gesture of futility that pours salt into an open and deep wound. Why rearrange deck chairs on the titanic. I guess for several reasons we now need to find a new place to sing.