The advantage of working at a university lies very basely in the idea surrounding what the students offer. I have found that there are bright and superb students abounding here at William & Mary’s, but more importantly are the scavengers, the harbingers, the bookworms, the illicit. A student delivered me a small tote of Brown Beauty for me to revel in. He expressed he could tell how exhausted I looked, and he figured I could use a little relaxation. I am glad of it. It isn’t much, but heroin is not cheap. He is not even a student of mine, yet, I predict we will develop a close bond.
On another side of the spectrum, Miss Lucille Devereaux has declined to see me this week due to “feminine matters.” This is all for the better. I have no desire to be with a woman when she bleeds, nor should any man. It’s filthy.
Classes prove to be disheartening overall, and I have more than once found myself with an empty flask much sooner in the day than I had expected. This last Friday, I had to refill it twice before dinner. Lucille commends me on being a very classy drunk. I have asked her repeatedly not to call me that, but she won’t listen. I don’t know how I will get that word from her vocabulary. Professor Echols down the hall drinks twice as much as I do and manages to still teach Victorian Literature and Africkan Studies, two classes that require the most attentive attitudes.