Howard Hughes and the Big Marble Building
It's sunny and 82˚F, a last gasp of summer, I suppose.
I'm gong to try and make a few notes, at least the names of people I want to mention, people who should be there this evening, but won't be. It's not a put-on to say that I'm scared. I am. I will likely talk about how unlikely it is that I'd ever wind up with my papers going to Brown University – or anywhere besides a dumpster. I almost cried yesterday. I was looking at Pandora in that glass case, and there's a coffee stain on the keyboard that I somehow never got around to wiping away before we donated the machine. And that almost got me. It's always the little shit.
Later Taters,
Aunt Beast
2:34 p.m.
I'm gong to try and make a few notes, at least the names of people I want to mention, people who should be there this evening, but won't be. It's not a put-on to say that I'm scared. I am. I will likely talk about how unlikely it is that I'd ever wind up with my papers going to Brown University – or anywhere besides a dumpster. I almost cried yesterday. I was looking at Pandora in that glass case, and there's a coffee stain on the keyboard that I somehow never got around to wiping away before we donated the machine. And that almost got me. It's always the little shit.
Later Taters,
Aunt Beast
2:34 p.m.