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The sermon for Saturday March 2, 2002 is: Despite everything, I still believe people are essentially good at heart. 5:45 p.m. Hello, sweet diary, how are you? I'm absolutely broke! The realization of this will descend upon me in two or three days, when the drugs wear off and I think, Off to the ATM now! and saunter off with a swagger before collapsing in a big heap when I remember I'm totally broke. My CAL-Grant and scholarship monies won't come until next semester. I spent the day collecting DVDs and CDs and books to sell, which paradoxically made me happy, I've got probably $1500 worth of stuff which I'll get $300 for; for some reason this kind of outrageously disproportionate simony somehow floods my junk-blackened innards with some queerly sunny light. It's just nice to get rid of stuff! Have I told you about Amanda and Colleen? Well, nothing to tell, really. Colleen's in my evolutionary psychology class and Amanda's one of those Sylvia Plath girls who haunt the cafeteria. Anyway, things were going swimmingly with them and I in my druggy, self-congratulatory way was already scheming how to hide the existence of one from the other, when something happened and I was off. (I'm such a fickle bitch.) With Colleen, it was some stupid comment like, "Well, I think Borges is overrated." What did she just say!? PHHHHHT-- and into the heap of melted flesh she is tossed, there in the concentration camps of my affection. With Amanda it was something wierder. She was telling me about the virtues of optimism over whatever the opposite of optimism is, and I made reference to Anne Frank, viz.: "Well, Anne Frank was an optimist. And look what happened to _her._" She made a sour face. "What happened to her?" "Funny, Amanda." "Did she die?" "And _how_!" She shrugged, walked ahead. "I don't know, I was just guessing." "You're kidding me," I said. I caught up with her. "Tell me you're kidding me. Please tell me you're kidding me about not knowing who Anne Frank was." She was getting irritated. "Tell me already!" So I told her. And YES SHE HAD NO IDEA. This just puzzles the holy living shit out of me. There's requirements for being in the human race, you know: and I would say one of them would be to know who Anne Frank was.
 
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