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It's lunch. The workshop is going well, but me, I'm trying not to become ill. My voice is starting to give out. In the last hour, I'll have a bottle of water in my hand constantly, desperately trying to survival to the end. But at lunch, all I am thinking is about all I have to do is make it through those hours. All I have to do is hold it together. So while the girls are all off at lunch, I crash in a corner of the room, and just zone, headphones in, world cut away, and try to relax and not fall apart.

The Samuraj Cities track I'm listening to ends--

"Oh my god," a girl's voice says, impossibly loud, "the pill is just amazing!"

--and the next song begins.

I am home now and falling apart, but that's okay, because the workshop went well, and I will be paid for twenty-nine girls.

The girls were cool, too. If, like what happens elsewhere, some of you end up on this blog, say hi. For the rest of you: They all know that molest word, so be nice to them. (Molest must have been used six billion times in the Inform Your Mother Your Marriage has Failed Using Only the Letter M Part.) The blog is occasionally banned on net nanny and the such, so who knows if they will; I do know one of my workshop minders, L, was reading my blog as I was presenting and I've decided that that's a bit weird, that. Anyhow, as always, the draw on yourself to be a new person was fun, and as always, everyone broke out the emo. I tell you, scratch the surface, and there's a little sad, suicidal in each one of us. The only issue of the day was that one girl said that tarot cards went deeply against her beliefs so she wouldn't use them for inspiration, but that was fine. She used them for anti-inspiration. I'm flexible. Everywhere I went I was introduced as Dr. Ben Peek and the author of speculative fiction novels, as if, somehow, the two were distinct from each other, which I suppose they are. It was a little weird, however, to be introduced as such in a faculty meeting. Which brings me to another highlight of the day: the faculty meeting in which the PE teachers showed up in blue tracksuit pants, appearing aloof and like crumbling specimens of a once physical potential.

Anyhow, everything went well, and all appeared to have a good time, and I met a girl there who had synesthesia, much like Vladimir Nabakov, and that was very cool indeed. I think I was even a little jealous of that, cause there's nothing special about me at all.


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(Deleted comment)
Aug. 16th, 2007 10:22 am (UTC)
holy shit, i cannot remember. i'm sure i'd remember if you discovered that in my workshop, though, yes?
(Deleted comment)
Aug. 16th, 2007 10:29 am (UTC)
well. hmm. how about we just assume it was me, and you can continue to associate it with me? cause i reckon it's cool. i want to be associated with it.
Aug. 16th, 2007 11:03 am (UTC)
Well all associate him with our syn. Ben is the Original Sin...

Took a class of year tens for a snack size bite of uni workshop recently, and we were doing six word stories (a bit like Hemingway's 'For sale: baby shoes. Never worn.') and one girl's effort was 'Love me: I can't.'

Man, I couldn't decide whether she needed a counsellor or just tapped into her inner emo for a second. I was hoping it was the latter.
Aug. 16th, 2007 11:21 pm (UTC)
i love that. love me: i can't. that's beautiful, that.

i love watching everyone get in touch with their inner emo. also, their inner junkie, nyphomaniac, and mass murderer.
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