So ...Joe wants me to...give an opinion on his poem.

I have no opinion.

I'm useless...but hey, read his poem:

----------------

Man, so how I'm a san mantha?

Even though Joey's from California, but he grew up in Rochester.

And I'm thanks that I know him, because I can dream when it's night.

I mean, night in my dream.

And Dr. Bishop, (I mean Rosean), this is how I'll get through my crises.

By remembering how everything reminds me of everything else.

That's the dialectic.

Seeing only what you can dream.

That's the end of this song.

Self-reference.

I wish I could save my keystrokes on the fingerboard. Like backspaces and

browns with off-white things that don't even make sense in English.

This is pure mentalese, Fodor.

And that's why Dr. Monnier likes me. I am the great sinner that was to be

Aleksei Karamazov.

So she hates me and loves me, and her love always conquers.

Her girlish love.

From her girlish place.

Like how Elizabeth loved me.

But it was so immature and not ready.

But Dr. Monnier.

She

is

wiser

than her deceptive looks would indicate.

Her girlishness.

that she cannot pretend isn't there.