I’ve got a new Béla Bartók CD playing; I got it at Borders a little while ago. Let’s see, what’s happened?

Lamont has commented. Way to go, Lamont. That is the right on. I will militarize against the compound. Here’s something to think about.

Ms Miller is very frequently missing from klass, often for days at a time. (Note: since at the compound many of our classes aren’t real classes, I elect to spell the not real ones “klass”.) I’ve given up hope of finding out where my teachers are when they’re not in class; they never tell you. (Is this a Finneytown phenomenon?) On Thursday she was gone again. In her place was Mr Byers. All of our substitute teachers are at least slightly insane. Mr Byers is quite simply strange. Example: Last year in English class, Sam Battistone asked someone, “How’d your day go?” Mr Byers, from across the room, asked Sam, “Where did you learn Ilonggo?” He later explained that there was a phrase in the Ilonggo language that sounded like “How’d your day go?” that means “man with fierce countenance”.

Our klass plan for the day was to watch the Mel Gibson version of Hamlet, which we’re studying. We put the tape in. Before the movie was an amount of footage of Mel talking to a class in some school about the play. After that was footage from a different class. We fast-forwarded and he was still talking to a class. Someone thought to look at the tape box. It said: “Mel Gibson goes BACK TO SCHOOL” And it described the video: a series of lessons given by Mel Gibson about Hamlet to middle- and high-school kids. After that, tell me: Is this a real school?!

Okay, what else has happened?

It’s spring now, pretty much. The first day of spring was yesterday. And doggone if it didn’t feel pretty nice. I still love winter. But I’m coming to realize that it’s because I like contrast, and in Cincinnati and other lousy-winter places there’s no contrast: it’s just warm all year, getting cooler in winter. I want a marked difference when I get into the later months of the year. I want three-foot snowfalls and lakes you can drive a truck over. I want subzero temperatures and roaring fireplaces. I want real winters. None of this watered-down crap. But that’s not all I want. I want the rest of the seasons too, in their correct time. And now, I suppose I must admit, it’s the right time for spring. Micah and I walked to Warder, barefoot.

Not something that most sane people would consider. Walking outside barefoot doesn’t seem to be in the realm of reasonable things on most people’s lists. But Micah and I had no problem with it. I was quite giddy. Who cares about sticks and stuff? Not us! We walked back through the more obscure paths, ones that haven’t been traveled for a while, and had fun. I returned to a tree I’ve found, one that’s split and fallen over, but is still partially connected at the break, so it makes a long beam in the air. I did exercises on it, such as a variation on sit-ups wherein the practitioner hangs upside-down off the branch and curls upward to it. Micah gathered wood to build a fire, which we’re going to light off tomorrow after dark. We need to get some marshmallows. Brian showed up, by chance, and I ran off home, because I can’t stand him. Quite literally, I ran, through an area of bamboo and a lot of rugged grounds, but my feet are just fine, because human feet are a lot sturdier than most people give them credit for. They were thoroughly mudded through when I got home, which was cool.

Oh, and I’m going to write a book. I haven’t got all the details worked out yet, but I’m going to work on them in my mind and start writing at some point in the not-very-distant future.