My Life Of Quiet Desperation

Grant Green, I Want To Hold Your Hand

Is there such a thing as stress bruises?  Because I’ve been waking up with these strange, dark purple ones around my knees and today, my elbow.  (And no, I haven’t been drinking.)

I swear to the FSM that this has been my worst semester at this here college, even worse than when I started here five long years ago.  I’d wager that about 60-70% of my students simply can’t be bothered to give a fuck about learning the most basic of English.

And it’s an elective course.  You don’t have to be here if you don’t want to, geniuses!

A lot of them have already failed due to attendance issues, and there’s still six weeks to go.

Oh, and here’s a conversation I had yesterday:

Me: “Why didn’t you take the midterm?”

Student: “There are too many rooms at this college!  I got lost!”

Me: “So how is this my problem?”

Anyhow, the line-up on this album is amazing — Elvin Jones drumming, Larry Young on organ, and one of my favorites, Hank Mobley on sax.

My bruises and I just want to listen to soul jazz and read 70’s sci-fi novels.  Jobs are for suckers.

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