But, I Am Not a Nudist

This month-long stay does not mark my first encounter with Benchmark 306. I have been here before, and needless to say, after this is all over, I will be here again.

Some initial observations: My room in B-306 is level with the trees outside (they actually form a sort of elevated hedge in front of my windows), and one of the windows next to my bed is shattered, courtesy of last week's exciting hailstorm. This is, I think, part of the fun. The roomies are friendly and agreeable, as I discovered definitively last night, when we sat together in the living room on our computers, first discussing social justice aloud and then chatting online with each other about less lofty subjects. My kind of people.

Also, the shirt Katherine referred to in the previous post as broadcasting my ethnic identity is a gray American Apparel number with the word 'mensch' printed across it in a pseudo-Semitic script. It was given to me by my mom, which adds a level of good-natured niceness to my wearing it, as if that were lacking. Thanks, mom! Theoretically I'm wearing the shirt ironically, which I reckon is the point, but who knows? This shirt stands in contrast to the shirt that I spotted on a Yid at Quack's: "I✡Shiksas." I wonder how that shirt is working out for him.