Bartle Library, Binghamton University, New York
The university – – – I will sue it – – – if I ever get out of here alive.
The fucking lawyers will do it anyway. And the media will glean at least two days of great ratings from my death.
“Class action suit filed in behalf of students who fell to their death at Binghamton University.”
I bet Nancy Grace could drag this on for a good six months. I bet she will mention my name and ask “What the hell was a 77 year old male doing on an elevator with several young college women?”
Is that to be my fifteen minutes of fame? My death?
Or is it to be my fifteen minutes of shame? “Dirty old man dies with beautiful young co-eds.”
I study literature and write books hoping that someday I will be recognized as the great author that I am; but my being squashed to death with broken legs and spine, is what I will be remembered for?
Society is fickle.
My writing would have already been in The Bodleian at Oxford back in the 1600’s. Now I can’t even get it in The Bartle – – – whose fucking elevator is going to kill me in about five seconds.
TOMORROW: 5th Floor