I had a dream that you, Sean, Rick, and I were driving through a city, I think it was Detroit. Sean was driving. You and I were in the back of his SUV, and for some reason I was having sex with someone in the back, behind Sean. They were nameless and faceless, not even sure they were alive because I was the one doing all the work. Somehow my having sex with this thing had to do with the car getting to wherever we needed to go, so I kept fucking it until we got to this scary hole in the wall hardware store. I was buying a special kind of coffee for my mom, and a stack of books. Watchmen was in the stack. The guy who owned the hardware store was at the register and asked me what that book was, in reference to watchmen. I told him, and he said, “oh yeah, the guy dies in the end,” in reference to rorschach. I cried because I wasn’t done with it yet.

Because of a bad poem I wrote last semester, math is always associated with sex for me now and results in some incredibly distracting studying and bad grades.

has fucked me. And statistics has fucked me. And this year I’ve been fucked by more things than I ever thought I’d get fucked by.