From The Department of "Hey, I Think You...
Me: There's a misspelling in the title of this final. Did you proofread? Hit the spell-check button, even? I'll let you fix it now, quickly, if you'd like.
Student (bag on shoulder, shrugs and rolls eyes): Ugh. Is it really that important? I mean, I will, but...
Dec 15th
Student: Why don't we have a Netflix, but for books?!
Me: We do. It's called the library.
Student: Oh yeah. But maybe they should get with it and send books to your home from your queue.... Like, we should be able to interact with it more. And send books back from our own mailbox, too. For free, like Netflix.
Me: You know, that is a good idea. Would you be willing to pay a monthly membership fee, like you do for Netflix, to cover expenses?
Student: Hell yeah.
(In Portland, the Public Library was trying, I think, to get this done. Anyone know if this is occurring successfully elsewhere?)
Dec 12th
Chat to the Past: Emily Dickinson
Me: Hey, Em. Happy Birthday! Got any big plans?
Emily Dickinson: A thought went up in my mind today that I have had before.
Me: Not THE thought? Not the thought about the river? Where is your hope from years past, Em?
Emily Dickinson: Hope is a thing with feathers that perches in the soul -
Me: Yes. Exactly!
Emily Dickinson: Dear Amber. (Sigh) After great pain, a formal feeling comes. You know this.
Me: Right, but you're the mother of contemporary American poetry! Imagine?
Emily Dickinson: Wait. Who's the father?
Me: Walt Whitman.
Emily Dickinson: Now I know this is a dream. Do you know Walt? Because I'm not his sort. Still, I suppose he is a faithful father of a dependent brood.
Me: Yes. Beloved parents, the both of you.
Emily Dickinson: And you say I'm 179 years old there?
Me: Yes. Isn't that lovely?
Emily Dickinson: Indeed...an antiquated grace
Me: Happy Birthday, poetrymama.
Dec 10th
Diverging Narrative Arcs on a Sunday
S: Good Morning!
Me: Morning. Too bad you're not here. I'm drinking amaretto in my coffee and cooking brunch. Goat cheese and mushroom omelets with shallots.
S: Man, that sounds great. I have to be somewhere at 11 though.
Me: Oh, what's up?
S: I left my wallet at Big Bertha's Bordello and Chili Parlor last night. So, guess I'll just eat breakfast there....
Me: I think I just got sick in my mouth. You can't eat breakfast at a strip club/bbq and chili joint. Wait. I thought you were on a date last night?
S: I was.
Me: Wow.
S: Yeah. I know, I know. In retrospect, a bad idea.
Me: How are we even friends?
Dec 6th