I attend a remedial jobs class that is full of rowdy homeless people. We sit at school desks. The bell rings and a short man with a crew cut gets up and faces the class—he is the professor. He invites us all to come up and get some flyers. I collect one of each, including instructions on how to become a porn star. I return to my seat. A girl dressed in white asks me about my recording contract. I correct her, saying that I did make a record, but did not have a record deal. A guy I know is outside in the snow with his legs across the train tracks, waiting for a train to come. There is already blood in the snow.