So today I woke up in my wireframe bed, exercised in my room to electro-pop, ate a breakfast of khatchapuri and chadi with cheese, and then brought my laptop so we could watch planet earth, and then I taught a few classes by shouting “YOU ARE PIG” at my students while Lela giggled, went outside so students could trace me with chalk, entered school via window, went to teacher’s lounge expecting coffee and snackies but instead everyone was packing and Lela’s eyes were full of glee, “Ernie,” she says, “Poison! It kill everything, we must leave now,” and suddenly that weird gas-like aroma that I’d been smelling for the past few days made sense, and then football outside with my students, and Tamta and Nino meet me on the way home and give me pretzel sticks and bubble gum, and tqemali fruit, and tell me I’m fat.
Now, I’m going to Tbilisi for a music festival, which I’m sure will involve lots of club beatz and cheap beer and world-famous musicians (ha-ha-ha). I’m bringing my uke anyways and singing some Dylan. As of today, I have eight days of teaching left. (I decided not to extend.) I am obsessing over my summer plans: meeting Jari and Kelsey and James in Istanbul, traveling east across the Caucasus to Armenia, going home.