in the background is an african beat pounding the song into the back of my chest (which in retrospect would probably mean my back) reminding me of a mysterious God and a crazy stumbling faith.

and then my eyes clear and i see that i still haven't registered for classes because of technical difficulties and scant exposure to said technology and no time and fewer opportunities and too many walks on the boardwalk followed by too many calls to asian garden for their sesame chicken.

and i'm empty as a pocket as if i were some obscure song lyric by paul simon.

and i have no time, no money, and a huge grin on my face.

the song keeps beating me and my foot keeps beating the floor.

i got to hug my mom today for a very, very long time. then she bought us toilet paper and band aids. i was thinking about it later, and i'm glad i'm at the point in life now that i can accept a roll of toilet paper as a gift with a truly grateful heart.

i wish i could actually have a coherent thought. it's an absurd impossibility, i promise.

i regret that i won't be able to take the bob dylan class this semester. next time i accept admission to a college, i'll do it on time so that i don't get stuck with "the spiritual lives of great composers" on my schedule. not that it won't be a good class, mind you. actually, i don't want to hear about great composers and their faiths. oh well. i suppose this will be fodder for conversation at some point in life.