The train rolls by the tram. I'm laying in the grass of the ever so popular Dolores park. "I see her walking down the street and just feel like she doesn't belong." A young guy with an orange beard and no shirt gets stoned just up the hill and makes a phone call. Yesterday, same spot, I watched a different young guy with a beard get stoned and make a phone call. What's with this place? Eventually I relent and give into the plot, the sun attacks my back and the voices and grasses. Swimming changes music into deep exhales or cubes of sleep that one brushes their foot against, waking up periodically throughout the night. It's taken me forever to realize I'm lazy, much less liberate myself from this spoiled state, a willingness to capsize the boat to meet a girl. I am thinking of breaking up with myself. After talking to Chris briefly, I spoke about the difficult semester and he said two things: nobody died (at least we have our health), and maybe you've learned something for next time. I told him about the anxiety dreams, and the fact that I'm still having them two weeks after the semester ended, of students upset and complaining about the class and then it became obvious: I put all of myself out there for the three twelve and wasn't prepared to deal with a few choice assholes. My brother tells me to "toughen up."