[part two] of a spontaneous encore to the 'Life of Socrates' [quartet]
scottkrane.substack.com
Afraid now of the hot streets, I began doing my getting-high-routine in my bedroom at the yeshiva. Blowing the smoke out the hole in the wall by the head of the bed where a window replacement or perhaps air conditioning unit had once been torn from its place. One night as I was smoking, a knock came at the door. I didn’t respond; pretended to be away. I knew they smelled the weed. I hadn’t even bothered to put a towel underneath the door to prevent the smoke from getting out. But I was in freefall. I didn’t care. Next day, Yitzhak called me to his office and told me I had ‘until the first of May to vacate the premises’. The bottom had finally dropped out. And I had no one but myself to blame. Or I could have blamed it on society’s ridiculous standards; or my then-recent diagnosis of ‘bipolar’. Whatever it was, it meant I was homeless again.
[part two] of a spontaneous encore to the 'Life of Socrates' [quartet]
[part two] of a spontaneous encore to the…
[part two] of a spontaneous encore to the 'Life of Socrates' [quartet]
Afraid now of the hot streets, I began doing my getting-high-routine in my bedroom at the yeshiva. Blowing the smoke out the hole in the wall by the head of the bed where a window replacement or perhaps air conditioning unit had once been torn from its place. One night as I was smoking, a knock came at the door. I didn’t respond; pretended to be away. I knew they smelled the weed. I hadn’t even bothered to put a towel underneath the door to prevent the smoke from getting out. But I was in freefall. I didn’t care. Next day, Yitzhak called me to his office and told me I had ‘until the first of May to vacate the premises’. The bottom had finally dropped out. And I had no one but myself to blame. Or I could have blamed it on society’s ridiculous standards; or my then-recent diagnosis of ‘bipolar’. Whatever it was, it meant I was homeless again.