in 25 years

10:20am—Up at eight forty five, such unheard of days these are and the top of my left foot is sore as if it was hyperextended.  What in the world did I do in my sleep?  I did not dream for a second. Indigestion raised me at one o eight and I am a bit irritated with pillows that aren’t long enough to wrap my head around when I am desperately trying to sleep. 

I sent an email two days ago to my immediate superiors with my request to be officially done on 27 June.  I don’t like the delay but it is Thursday and next week I write and submit my letter of resignation.  I hate writing these things, too many of them I am embarrassed to admit, but on that letter is 27 June whether the gentleman respond or not, suck wind and say whatever, no problem, it’s a fairer deal for you. 

Employer.   

Every day I see the date now I think I could be outta here one month from any date onwards if I sent the president my lor. 

In that case management has about seven more days before they know I will send the letter.  I could send it now, surprise them, force their hand from sitting forlornly in a miserable way to manage this institute but what to do, they work just like any of the newbie independent language institutions all over the world, and it’s based on an equal number of students and teachers which they don’t have enough of the latter,  and the shortage of teacher one begins today, tomorrow and the next week and the week after that and I’ll be with the roved one in the office who refused to let me leave on 27 June, what a pleasant place that will be the one who didn’t agree with my offer to finish in a reasonable way.  That would not be good, I’ll react, I’ll just quit, go to the bank, get all my money and buy a ticket and leave. Sure I’ll tell hr I’m leaving and I’m probably losing a lot of cash if I get nutty but this is how I overeact.  Sorry.  It won’t happen like this.  I hope not.  I don’t want to get angry.

The transport comes in 65 minutes.  I think it’s a day to shower and not shave again. 

People in the world like Americans because we’re a hellava lot more optimistic even when we’re looking pretty pessimistic

It’s J. Geils.  I got three of their songs on the ipod and I can’t listen to them anymore.  Tsk, what is ,  wrong?  I can listen to Steve Earle’s Transcendental Blues while I try to take a shower.

Nice lyrics.  I identify sort of but not enough to take a quote from the song and post it on facebook.  Why and to Who?  To communicate what fleeting idea?  Yawn.

3:27pm—Walking with a limp, a slight limp, extend the foot fully in the shoe do not redistribute pain in order to compensate.  Walk straight and keep your head down.

The boss to my left has been out of the office for the last two days.  Good for him.   

Yesterday in the transport heading for the campus I saw him cross the main road and enter a dry cleaners.  Hmmm, this ill-fitting Brooks Brothers jacket could use a cleaning and maybe they could remove fiber from the chair I used to sit in in Kandahar, hundreds of fibers worked their ways into the weave of the back tails of the coat and it looks bad though I say nothing because, I don’t know, I’ve seen worse?

I’ll be lucky to get out of here before the end of June but I have the days to use.  I gotta use them, when am I gonna use them?  Next week?  I speculate after eating a large stale chocolate donut and an Americano.  Relax, they know the score.  At lunch I told another boss of my intentions to leave.  They know, they sigh, there goes another one, they go back to work.  They understand. 

I’d stay, I would, the shade of Kabul under blue skies is nice.  Six thousand feet climates are always better than sea level conditions, do you think?  I stopped taking cold medicine at night after reading they can contribute to insomnia.  If I get the sniffles tonight I may have to break open a special treat I paid for this afternoon and sits in my office drawer where it’ll be moved to the day bag where it will then be taken back to the guesthouse where it will be opened with cheese and crackers to complement.  A French table condiment, a medicinal, a laxative, a calmer of all fears.  Please let this day go smoothly.  I have to tell a student he can’t take the final exam because he has missed too many classes.  Don’t make a scene and I will call security if you cross any unacceptable lines.

Au Revoir

9:19pm—The student knew he wasn’t going to discuss anything with me after I told him he wasn’t taking the Final exam because of his absences.  Did it help to have a sore foot to help me prepare to be in a mood he needed to see.  Don’t ef with me today, _ _ _ _ a_ _. 

And that’s it, pass the buck up to the next person who will sigh and say, look, Americans say corruption comes in all forms and letting you take the test when you failed to meet a university standardized rule, we’re done here.

The French table beverage is a dry, medium bodied and well balanced.  It is indeed and I’m not drinking it very fast.  I suppose I ought to eat something more if I keep drinking this.  How will two Xanax go with vin rouge?  Uh oh, and the tramadol and xantac and nose spray what a cocktail eh?

No need tomorrow, it’s Friday.

I should envy the money you’ve saved by staying here but I can’t.  I should I really should have something for that, for that, right, place to die inside in, but I don’t.  For some strange reason I imagine being a healthy homeless man on Venice Beach in 25 years.  I think dying in the warm sand would be a good thing.