I am taking some Greek class. It’s a fairly full class. I’m about to take a class in another institution, some downgrade like NOVA compared to GMU. I have a book close to the subject. It looks like my Marx-Engles reader. I open it up. This book happens to be written by the professor of the class for the class. The introduction is long. The contents of the book is just three early poems of unidentified dates, then maybe ten long poems its probably Homer or Plato — it’s strange that they are poems. I go back to the busy class. The students are busy reciting memorizes information for the classes test. Trivia I hadn’t bothered with. Ray tells me of a bus I might miss. I have missed it. Still, I realize I can just drive there.
I’m going to some high school with a goose mascot. We see some 60s film about kids growing as individuals. Then there is a republican convention at the school with much success and fanfare. I can’t take this so I go to the democratic convention just across the next week [sic]. The convention is empty and the nominee is the republican vice-president; some slovenly lady. She’s talking uninspired drivel. I object on a small point. To placate, they play a video; after a minute I object that this is the same video we just saw. I continue to object until I find myself accusing her if being part of a republican plot to weaken the democratic party from the inside. This strikes a nerve; the candidate leaves in tears. I control the room and walk around to Gerald Ford and tell him he’s suspect. He, in turn commends me on my rhetorical skill.
Well, I take candidacy even though I’m just in high school. We don’t even have a campaign slogan. A construction crew has these blue pieces and we spell out in 3 story tall letters our brainstorms. We go through 100 words very quickly, each in its own beautiful font without ever getting anywhere.