blah (and a story)

It’s coming on to finals time, and I was slammed with grading and review sessions and grading and test writing and grading.

Spent 3 bucks on a cup of tea.  And lost almost 40 because my checking account was overdrawn when I accidentally made a payment to a credit card twice.  I just need to keep more cash in the account.

Managed to apply for two jobs here in New York State (I’m in New York State), and make this half-assed post to crowswood.  Now it’s time for bed.

edit: I remembered this story from my past earlier today, and it had me grinning all morning.  When I was living in California, I got busted growing weed.  That’s a long story in itself, but the part of it I’m going to tell now relates to my search for a lawyer.  I was calling numbers listed in the back of a High Times magazine (oh, child…), and hit on a lawyer named Michael Stepanian.  His secretary said he was busy, but that she’d pass my story on to him.  A bit later, I got a call, and it was him, calling me back while driving.  The exchange follows.

“So let me get this straight…you’re from Mississippi?”


“And you’re studying math at Berkeley?”


“And you got busted growing weed?”


“….Alright, I’ll take the case.”

That would have been enough to make me grin years later, but there’s more.  A few months later I was drinking some early morning wine out in the parking lot of my girlfriend’s mother’s apartment in east LA.  I was reading some Hunter Thompson, when he listed the names on his legal team.  The junior (at the time) member: Michael Stepanian.

I lost my ever-loving shit.  I do love me some Hunter Thompson (I think I’ve read every word of his that’s ever been in print), and I howled and danced with joy and victory that one of his lawyers had offered to represent me, and why.

There’s always the chance that it’s a lawyer of the same name who also has a tendency to work with interesting deviants, but I like to think that one of Dr. Thompson’s defense lawyers once, upon hearing my story, offered to represent me at a reduced rate.

(Sadly, I was unable to retain his services.  Would have loved to have cemented that acquaintance.  But I was a pobre.)

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