My friend Script MD comes up with some interesting questions. Yesterday's question was, "If you had to use a quotation to break up with someone, what would you use?" The question wasn't limited to fiction, i fyou wanted to use a biology textbook, he would accept it. I came up with one

"I no longer feel in common with you" Thus Spake Zarathustra


"You knew the odds of failure from the beginning" Archaeology by Kathat Pollit

So if you had to pick a quotation or two to break up with someone, what would you use?
When I was in college, I developed the theory that in every class, there is one student who makes you question how they got in, and I don't mean the admissions process, I mean how did he figure out how to open the door to get into the room. I didn't realize that I would have the exact same feeling sitting in a staff meeting,. That I would look around the room and think,"How did you get IN here? SECURITY!"


While my friend the Marmot embodies the positive side of the Hunter S lifestyle-lost on some hopelessly stylish drinking binge accompanied by live music-one of the other professors today embodied the pedestrian "how fucking annoying is it to deal with someone who doesn't stay on this planet long enough to understand the SIMPLEST OF INSTRUCTIONS?!" aspect of mental illness. You know, one of those people who makes me happy I'm just depressed with a side order of panic and test taking anxiety. And although when I was in Ab. Psych. I understood in theory that a sick person wouldn't know he was sick, in practice I find myself going "How can you not know you are completely fucking BONKERS? Have you absolutely no sense of reality?


The good news is, as long as they don't fire him, I have job security. Because I can always say, "Yeah I might have fucked up, but I'm still better than THAT guy."
In my rare moments of ego, I like to imagine myself as this generations Hunter S Thompson. That I have to imagine myself in terms of somebody else shows you how much I have failed in that mission. But nothing has driven home the message of my failure to be Hunter more than the text message I received yesterday from the Marmot. He is leaving this weekend to go to Maine until August. Saturday was his going away party. Sunday he was supposed to meet up with a group of us for a gondola ride in Central Park. Instead of an appearance what I got was the following text:
Not Alive! In no condition to travel. Din't go to sleep last night, don't know where I am, but there is a pianist here...


It's the pianist part that gets me. The style of it. He is truly the Hunter S of this generation.


I'm going to miss that Marmot.