He used to sit at his desk and be online and he would snort ppls (his students) ADD medicine and drink beer and smoke weed and listen to I PREDICT A RIOT at 3 and 4 am and have it turned up so goddamn loud and he would pump his fists and also that Louis XIVth song. He typed a lot.He remembers wishingthat someone woujld read his words anyone spec
iallyhot chicks. That way  he could pay back the social structure of the hypocritical UNITED STATES OF AMERICA or something and also get a lot of ass.
One day a crazy Russian lady from Russia showed up at his campus job
Also another person wrote a letter in her bloods. The paper smelled.
Also someone was always moving to London. And after the got there they would always pretend to be Brits after a little while. Like writing favourite and shit like that. The boot.
And then there were married ones heading for divorce court and undergrads and foreign graduate students
And a dirty mouthed short girl with freckles and a history of athleticism in a campus hallway at like ten in the morning
And then later his entire life fell apart right in the middle of grifting some fool out of his 20k worth of cocaine and our hero lost the dearest things in his life to him for a few months.
And there was a time where no typing was happening. Everything was dark but there was a bar that opened at 530 am and even served breakfast. Until he tried to fight the owner one noontime after he'd been in there drinking for six hours. A cute girl looked after him and drove him everywhere and one time he even masturbated on her leg when she was passed out from booze.
There was also a job in there.
And then slowly it went back to typing. And then slowly it went back to now.
This has been a story from me to you. Give back in the same spirit. I love you, babies.