Burrowed In

This winter be crazy, no? Mucho hace frio! I took Spanish in high school! Comprende, bitches? MUCHO FRIO!!!!!!

Anyway. Here we are, burrowed in and waiting out another cold ass Minnesota winter. I've been working at the U of MN bookstore in St. Paul as a register monkey, selling overpriced textbooks and punching register keys at random. Generation Text, or whatever the hell they're called these days, actually seems sufficiently well-mannered and friendly, even in the frozen heart of winter. They laugh and say please and make conversation with me, their friendly bookstore employee, unaware that I'm just a temp with a mad streak for writing novels and would burn the whole place down for a book deal. I think it helps that I'm on the chilled out St. Paul campus, which is a hundred times more pleasant than the East Bank, which is where the frat boys and popular girl dwell, haunting all that meet them.

Right now I'm reading Christie Malry's Own Double-Entry by B.S. Johnson. It's actually NOT some strange porno book but a funny novel by an "edgy" British experimental writer who died in 1973, at the tender age of forty. Too soon, B.S.! Too soon.