The Next Best Thing to a Church in Italy

Finally at home. Sitting in front of a fan like an old man on a stoop. Went to see a film tonight (The Lovers) by someone that I used to know years ago, who’s now a famous filmmaker. He was a bad filmmaker then and he’s a bad filmmaker now. But our worlds keep crossing. The film (apart from my favorite ’80s actress, Debra Winger) was awful in nearly every way. The use of score in particular. But I still cried the entire time. Because I needed to. I was there for that. I also wanted to be cold, and in the dark, in the next best thing to a church in Italy. It was 94 degrees outside today. The pavement was burning. I couldn’t stop sweating. Tomorrow I will treat myself to an iced coffee after 8 months of no coffee. 16 student papers left to grade. I barely have energy to eat or change my sheets. I’m not even sure what stage I’m at anymore. Or what stage is left.

Crossposted with Love Dog.

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