Wednesday, late. So what’s the score. Could have gotten tacos and beer at this expat bar tonight. Ran an old script on some low-hanging fruit, laid groundwork so I can get some local action without riding the train 20 minutes into Seoul aka Fuck City. Guys, for real, just come over here. Stop getting blue-balled on Tinder. You don’t need Tinder. Instead I spent two hours on a thing that I will spend four more hours on tomorrow that I will give to a blog on Friday morning where it will be read by eighty people before it evaporates. One reader will be my father. The other seventy-nine will be bitter cunts who moonlight as comment trolls. Somehow that still makes me happy.
First graders this afternoon. They learned tactics from velociraptors. Distract you with something flashy from the front while another one attacks from the side. So while one kid uncaps markers and spears them at the white wall an accomplice rushes you from the blind spot and ball-taps you. They must have a playbook. Diagram their strategy with rice grains at lunch.
Later I scrub the ink off the walls. You can never get it all. Pearls of sweat ride down my chest and leave itchy trails. My co-teacher could have prevented all of this but she bails on class. She always tells me how busy she is, so sorry, cannot help with the students. Then in the office she’s always shopping online for blouses. She’s like 38, has reproduced three times. Shaped like Mr. Potato Head now and she needs to hide it. She doesn’t even quickly toggle to a fake spreadsheet when I walk in. Legendary. The balls it takes to execute such transparent deception.
What else. Gonna read “Galapagos” and sleep. Get paid tomorrow. Life is good and I am currently a cocky shit in a position of relative power. So as I drift off I think I’ll fire up Tinder and match with some foxes and then never message them. That must bother at least one of them, for ten seconds, and the fact that it does brightens my day considerably.