2008-08-26 - 6:39 p.m.
so today i did two interviews at high schools for english teaching positions: one in east harlem, the other in williamsburg. my students at the latter school would not, contrary to common thinking, be baby hipsters; cry on your own time about it.
anyway, it wasn't until i was at lunch with a friend afterward that he informed me that i had something on my collar. when i looked i saw three gigantic gobs of blood perched and spread across my blue dress shirt. this was the product of a new shaving method i tried this morning, a method i evidently got too overzealous with and cut my entire face open with.
then i looked in the mirror and noticed my left was completely bloodshot from my contact bothering me. completely red from side to side, upsies and downsies.
so i imagine i cut a very professional figure for both of the schools: my shirt covered in blood and my Left Eye (R.I.P.!) was all red and swollen-looking. the narrative i can only imagine they must have constructed from this image: i shot my neck up with heroin before entering the interview and couldn't control my cracked-out, druggy eyeball.
i think the jobs are in the bags. the bags under my eyes from crack cocaine, that is.
