For about $90, this is a very nice tablet. It compares quite favorably with my Wacom, which retails for about $450 (you can get them for less if you don’t do Friday afternoon impulse buys at the Apple store like I did). The pen requires a battery, so it’s heavy (not really a problem) and doesn’t have an eraser (which is a minor inconvenience). Also, the tablet is ugly. But it has a big “Monoprice” logo on it, so when you look at this ugly thing, you can think to yourself “I got an incredible deal on this thing.” Recommended.

I have it, student loan debt, from law school, enough that I could have bought a house instead. It’s like having a chronic illness. I will probably not live long enough to pay it off, and the damage I did to my credit means I can never buy a car (unless I pay cash for it), let alone a house. I would discourage anybody with intelligence and a desire to do something with his or her life to stop going to school and just do it. At this point school is just for dopes like me who don’t know what they want. It’s babysitting you pay for yourself.

The main reason for college, except for the really top-tier people who can do something with it, is to keep a bunch of dumb 18-22-year olds out of the work force. And these kids in this article, who are insinuating that they were misled are just those dumb people I’m talking about; saying you were misled is silly, you just hung an “I’M DUMB” sign around your neck. But at least they have the excuse of being young. My sign should be way bigger: I was nearly forty, I already had one undergrad degree I wasn’t using. It looked like free money. My wife told me not to do it, then pleaded with me not to do it,  to just stay poor and do something I liked (drawing) instead of law, but I was too dumb to listen, and now I don’t have a wife anymore.

It just feels bad to know you are as dumb as you are, and there’s a number somewhere that measures how dumb you are, and it has a dollar sign in front of it. I can’t ever fix it, even paying it off won’t fix it, but I can tell you, if you read this, and you have to choose between taking on debt and going to school, the choice should be obvious. If you want to learn something, go learn it (surgeons excepted here I suppose). It’s easier to do when you’re not wearing a sign.

After reading all the social and regular media outpourings of affection for Sendak, I did go order a couple of his books. Is his writing really as dark as people say? I don’t remember that, I just remember it rhyming. Maybe I was the perfect audience, and this darkness people speak of just seemed normal. I’m curious to find out. I admire his line quality.

I also enjoyed reading several of the interviews he gave, about getting ready for death, and not believing in the concept of childhood.

One possibly unrelated anecdote: when I worked in a book store in college, we once had a store visit from a “wild thing” (one of our shorter managers in a rented costume). Parents could bring their kids and someone would read Where The Wild Things Are to them. One dad brought his two boys. When they came in the door, the older boy saw the wild thing and ran over to hug it. But the younger boy looked absolutely terrified. I have honestly never seen a reaction like it before or since. His eyes opened wide, he was instantly screaming and running for the door. Dad caught him and picked him up but that may have made it worse.  He was trying to climb over his dad to get away. Meanwhile, our sweet manager is in the suit, trying to assure this kid that she was a friendly wild thing without any tools but simple costumed body language, and that just didn’t work. I think she might have had to take the head off.

I enjoyed the parade of young women with laptops but otherwise it was just impossible. It’s too loud, there’s no room, the tables are wobbly, but then it got ridiculous. 

A group of about six lawyers came in and decided to hold a meeting about zoning. On top of this, the place had satellite radio and it was on the eighties station. I heard “I Wanna New Drug” and “Ghostbusters” in a row—those are the same song. Now mix that with the chatter of lawyers. Now, Ms. DJ Martha Quinn, deliver the coup de grace: play"Never Gonna Give You Up”, unironically.

It was like inhabiting the most massive public rickroll, with no way to shut it down.
One of the lawyers said, “I really love the eighties soundtrack in here.”
Around that time the internet signal died. For me, anyway. It was a cue to go.
I’m back at my friend’s house, with kittens for company; I’m still trying to get the sound of Rick Astley out of my skull.
Back to New Orleans tonight.