Sunday, April 09, 2006


God, I’m doing the interviews for my dad’s memoirs, and I’m sitting at the house of a friend of his whom I was to interview at 1:00, and it’s now 1:30 and they’re still not home from church (if high church starts at 11 a.m. don’t you think they ought to be back by now?). So their kid let me in, and he’s sick of my lurking around the living room. Also, this man has brain cancer, so I’m kind of nervous about talking to him, because he has to be translated, and I don’t want to be a jerk and not understand what he says. And also, as sad as it is, if I don’t get the interview now, I may never get it. Shit.

Two-thirty: Stood up. Dang.

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