bunker diaries pt. 3

10.10. My classroom, between sessions. The world welcomed both Ed Wood and Harold Pinter into its open arms today. It occurred to me as I lay in bed this morning, my limbs refusing to move, that I can never call in sick to this job. No one else is here to do it. And if I suddenly did not show up one day I’m not sure what would happen, but my broken corpse would probably end up as vulture bait.

10.13. My quarters. On this Friday the 13th we celebrate Lenny Bruce’s date of birth. Some sort of sandstorm rages outside and I’ve been barricaded in my quarters since our afternoon session was cut short by erratic electrical service. A trainee approached me as I left the classroom and asked if I could meet with her in a tutorial capacity. This is generally frowned upon by my superiors but I told her maybe I could find some time over the weekend. I don’t know what I’m doing.

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