(untitled doings.)

The professor of my Pornography, Sex and Writing class is gay and attractive, I think, for his age. I just ran into him in the hallway and stopped him because I needed to have him sign something. I told him I was coming down with a cold, and he said he wouldn't kiss me in that case. And then I blushed and looked downward and said "maybe tomorrow then."

Our new apartment still doesn't have internet, so I've taken the opportunity to spend more time doing other things. I've been in an accelerating process of liberating myself from the constraints of reliance on money or "professionals" for creativity. For example, I spent the first half of the month sawing, sanding, gluing, nailing together and staining my new furniture. I also gave myself and Tod haircuts. As I practice, I get better at it. My hair changes more fluidly now, because I don't have to wait to go back to Albuquerque and have my father chop it off. Interim classes started two weeks ago, since which I have spent at least twelve hours a day at school.

I finally escaped the on-campus housing contract, and I didn't have to get married. Six days ago I found out how much money I was getting back from my loans; I couldn't survive into March with the amount I was getting. I argued my way past the secretary of the Vice President's office, and confronted him saying I can't afford to pay $2500 for a room I'm not using that they've easily filled. I had met with him once before to discuss when and where nudity is allowed on campus. This time, when I told him my name, he said, "Oh, the fellow who sublet his dorm." And then we had it out, and I left saying, "I'll get my money back, don't worry." On Tuesday I was getting desperate and visited him again. In a lawyerly tone, I asked him what I could do to convince him of my financial hardship. He said he would need to discuss it with Tina, the yeti from housing, and insisted he would call me later that day. Then, in frustration, I went to the library and wrote a two-page single-spaced letter explaining the history of my finances since the middle of last year. I put a copy under each of their doors. A few hours later, I visited Tina/yeti's office and was told to talk to the Vice President again. And then he called me and told me to talk to Tina/yeti. Then, as I was walking out, he called me. Then he called her. Then he called me back and told me they'd refund me. He sounded angry and reluctant, but now I have the check.