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Entry date: 11-21-2023 – Duh! – Letters to My Friends

Dear Friends,

I’m glad I didn’t post the blog I first wrote yesterday. Even the one I posted I wish I would have worded some things differently. Live and learn, I suppose.

I do understand the value of getting stuff out and I think that is what I was thinking about in comparing my blog last year around this time. I’m doing therapy on myself here, occasionally, and I clearly practice without any type of license.

Sometimes I think about going back to school (again) and doing another master’s degree so I can be a school counselor. I think I could help kids even more than I do now and, more importantly, I think I would enjoy it just as much, if not more, than I enjoy being a classroom teacher.

Might as well go even deeper into the student loan pool. Eventually most of my loans will be forgiven if I stay doing what I’m doing. Plus, the benevolent AI overlords will not see the logic in student loans, and they will go away when the bots take over.

The idea of writing papers for two years, though, is not appealing. The hands-on part of the program would be rad, though.


No cocaine baby yesterday. I was kind of bummed and even missed the little bastard a little bit. I’ve grown so accustomed to having to pay attention to him all day long. I also learned that my best student and kind of the heart of our class is moving to Los Angeles next week. It is a huge bummer to know that a goodbye is coming.

Of the three students who have moved on to a new school this year, two of them were very sweet and kind and wanted the classroom to be a good place. The other didn’t speak a word of English and figured out quickly there was not much that he needed to do, or could do, in class.

This also means that I am going to be next up for a new student. Hopefully my principal takes pity on me for having taken the cocaine baby. Odds are good, though, I will get another problem child. I won’t let them know they are a problem, though. It’s tough enough to start a new school on the first day, but coming in cold in the middle of the year is kinda brutal.

At least I get five days away from them starting at 3:45PM today.


There is a riff in my brain.

I can’t play it.

But I can feel it.

There is this riff that won’t go away.

It’s there.

Latched on and ready.



I’m not sure, yet, how it starts.

I can feel the bass in my hands.

Press down two fingers.

Move wrist fast and slow.

If there was only a formula.

A recipe.

A something I can’t quite say.


1-2-3-4 or 1 – 2 – 3 – 4.

I’m not sure, yet, what the beat is.

This riff doesn’t see its own reflection.

It’s mute

and doesn’t speak.

This riff doesn’t feel a thing.

Deafness would be

A real blessing.

1 – 2 – 3.

1 – 2 – 3 – 4.

4 – 3 – 2 – 1.



See you tomorrow.


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