This is the worst story.
Don’t read it.
It is about a boy named John.
John is…was a boy who went to my high school.
Our senior year, a week or so before graduation, he died.
The way he died, is that he killed himself.
He killed himself in the worst way I could imagine.
The way he killed himself is he hung himself. And the worst detail is that the rope dug into his neck, cut into his neck, and they had to take him down.
They were his best friend’s parents.
What happened is all John’s friends were at a party with him. And John and all of his friends passed out that night at John’s best friend’s house.
In the morning no one knew where John was, they thought he went home.
Later the next day, John’s best friend, whose name is Andy, went to find John at John’s parent’s house where John lived.
John was not at home.
His parents didn’t know where he was.
Andy looked all over town,
Looked every possible place John could be.
He called everyone he could think of.
A few people got text messages from John around ten that morning saying I love you, this has nothing to do with you.
Andy was worried.
Andy went to his house, thinking maybe John passed out somewhere where Andy did not see him.
Andy realized he had not searched his house.
Back at home, Andy looked throughout the house.
Andy went down into the basement.
He walked into a small back room, and there was John.
John was dead. On a rope. Hanging from the ceiling.
Andy screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed. Screamed.
Andy’s parents ran down the stairs.
Andy’s parents dragged their son out of the room.
Andy screamed. Screamed.
Andy’s parents had to cut John down from the ceiling of their basement back room.
The rope was embedded in his neck.
Andy’s parents had to call the police and tell them what had happened.
And Andy would not… could not stop screaming.
I was not there, and yet,
I am so haunted by this.
But how is Andy?
Thursday, October 30, 2008
Some words on life at AQ, Pt. 4
Every night is different, yet, in the most rudimentary sense, the same as the one before. Almost every night we go on a walk. These walks differ in length and direction, but remain consistent in that we never seem to have a destination. We walk for the sake of walking, largely because it is one of the few options of things to do late at night, or very early in the morning. Much of our time together at night is spent either in the lounge of St. Joseph Hall, where we all reside, or outside on Cig Isle. In the lounge, we talk to each other over Facebook chat—quite pathetic, but it allows for private conversation within the large group we constantly gather in. The fad used to be comparing people on Facebook, but now has mutated into a Solitaire epidemic. Often, some time is spent at the Arts and Music Center, practice room 130. Charlie beats the drums, Joel strums and picks his guitar, and Carrie and I satisfy ourselves creating ambient sound by tapping the cowbell, scraping two rough rocks together. Often these jam sessions take place after our walk, usually around one or two o’clock in the morning. Each of us prides ourselves in our ability to stay awake until the early hours of the morning. Days blur and melt together, especially when we fail to sleep for two days straight. This happens more often than is generally healthy, but as Joel says, “Sleep is for dreamers.” We prefer to maintain consciousness for as long as our bodies will allow us to, and sometimes longer. We like to test our physical limitations, push the boundaries. As the early morning progresses, our numbers slowly decrease as people get sleepy and retreat to their rooms for rest. It is fairly standard for me to go to bed around five. Joel, Conor, and I are generally the last people in the lounge. Conor falls asleep there, and sometimes I do too. Soon, it is time to sleep. I wake Conor up and tell him it is time to change sleep locations. We go outside for a final cigarette before bed, then back inside, and up the stairs to the second floor. Conor and I change, wash our faces and brush our teeth, then pull ourselves up onto my lofted bed. I look out the window as I wait for sleep to overcome my mind. I shut my eyes, the dreams begin.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
some boys i hang out with just were making jokes about people killing themselves
& i told them not to, they just kept on fucking laughing & it's not even funny and they don't even fucking understand how many kids at my school last year died either by killing themselves or otherwise & they don't know how hard it was to deal even though i hardly knew anyone that had died & now i am about to fucking cry in front of everyone, im going to have a cigarette.
& i told them not to, they just kept on fucking laughing & it's not even funny and they don't even fucking understand how many kids at my school last year died either by killing themselves or otherwise & they don't know how hard it was to deal even though i hardly knew anyone that had died & now i am about to fucking cry in front of everyone, im going to have a cigarette.
This says it all:
"It's a fucked up world... and sometimes you gotta just try to unfuck it."
Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned, by Kinky Friedman
"My God--life! Who can understand even one little minute of it?" "Don't try," he said. "Just pretend you understand."
Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut
"Most ignorance is vincible ignorance. We don't know because we don't want to know."
Aldous Huxley
"If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern."
William Blake
Kill Two Birds and Get Stoned, by Kinky Friedman
"My God--life! Who can understand even one little minute of it?" "Don't try," he said. "Just pretend you understand."
Cat's Cradle, by Kurt Vonnegut
"Most ignorance is vincible ignorance. We don't know because we don't want to know."
Aldous Huxley
"If the doors of perception were cleansed every thing would appear to man as it is, infinite. For man has closed himself up, till he sees all things through narrow chinks of his cavern."
William Blake
Some words on life at AQ, Pt. 3
After class on Mondays and Thursdays, I go straight to dinner with Carrie, Joel, Charlie, and whoever else comes along for the ride. Dinner time always promises awful food, accompanied by excellent company. The best thing about our friendship is that I rarely am required to think before I speak. It is perfectly legitimate for any of us to vocalize any thought. We all have opinions, and we do not hesitate to share them. Most conversations are overridden with frivolity and comedy. All we need is each other, and any dull moment subsides. Tuesdays and Fridays are different. Classes only run until twelve for me, so I spend some quality alone time, or go back to bed and nap with Conor until we wake up. In my alone time, I wander Wilcox Park, sit at the Smoker’s Table thinking thoughts, read, go for bike rides, check out the bookstores in Eastown; really, whatever I am possessed to do. I prefer to be alone outdoors. It is easier for me to think when I can really breathe. Wednesdays there are no classes, a completely open day. I tell myself that I will do homework during the day, but it never happens. I was born a procrastinator, and will die a procrastinator. Wednesdays play out like Tuesdays and Fridays, in the absence of classes.
autumn thought.
Frigid hearts & minds have wet dreams about those hearts & minds & things which they imagine they can never possess. Place themselves in attaché cases with locks. What they don’t know is these locks and cases are fabrications, emaciations of the human spirit. Newest trend is to be alone rather than seek warmth in companionship. People need people, but people often do not realize the necessity of people; it is easier to hide from the self when alone. No new perspectives to cloud & confuse & maybe galvanize change. Rather use falling leaves & flakes & pikes as a hiding place than to squint through falling leaves & flakes & piles at the who’s and what’s of surroundings. Don’t you know that you can be just as disillusioned by your own thoughts as someone else’s? Beauty is in the eye of the beholder & it works for ugliness too & I do not need to explain myself.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
today is good.
I got everything I needed to accomplished.
I have a new Ipod now, his name is Quentin.
I miss Mona, my old one, but Quentin works, so I like him too.
I feel so relaxed,
so open.
New perspectives, perspectives that have been within my mind for years but are just now being unearthed.
Excellent company.
Good day.
I have a new Ipod now, his name is Quentin.
I miss Mona, my old one, but Quentin works, so I like him too.
I feel so relaxed,
so open.
New perspectives, perspectives that have been within my mind for years but are just now being unearthed.
Excellent company.
Good day.
Beautiful places, beautiful faces.
When I look back on my life and remember the places I've been, one stands out distinctly among the others. It is a place of such natural and absolute beauty, it sends shivers down my spine to recollect the time I spent there. The Pacific Northwest is the kind of place that I'd love to photograph, but I realize the pure futility of trying to capture the essence of each and every gorgeous scene. Places like these give me a reason to exist. They inspire me to explore and appreciate. Thank you, Earth.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
This is too much.
This is one of those situations where "the grass always seems greener on the other side of the hill."
When I am at home, I miss everyone at AQ.
When I am at school, I miss everyone in LO Town.
Oh, man.
When I am at home, I miss everyone at AQ.
When I am at school, I miss everyone in LO Town.
Oh, man.
Some words on life at AQ, Pt. 2
It is time for class. I gather my books and walk over to the Academic Building. When it is warm and sunny, I wear my sunglasses and walk at a normal pace. Today, it is cold and dark, so I’m bundled up in my hooded brown coat, hood up, with a scarf and mittens, and walking quickly. The speed of my pace, as well as the promise of the toasty Academic Building, warms me up considerably. I look around me as I walk, appreciating the beautiful campus I live on. Leaves of all autumn hues are scattered everywhere on the ground, swishing and crunching as students tread over them. In the trees above me, red, gold, brown, black, orange, yellow, and some green leaves cling for dear life to their branches, as the wind whips around them. The gray sky provides a sharp contrast to the colors, intensifying their glow. I finish my cigarette outside of AB, by the table out back, toss the end into the ashtray, and walk inside to class. I try to go to every one of my classes with a desire to learn. I pump myself up as I walk through the building, telling myself how excited I am to learn some new things, to think new ideas, to go to class. This technique is usually effective, with the exception of my Algebra/Trigonometry class. Algebra/Trigonometry is the most frustrating of all my classes by far. My teacher is Indian, and speaks English as a second language, so he is hard to understand. It does not help that math is my least favorite subject. In that class, my motivation to stay focused drops to zero. Most days, I zone out during math class, and just teach myself how to do the homework later. Otherwise, classes are pretty good. I like my professors, and I like the course material. Even in the instances where I do not have an interest in the material, I try to use the knowledge I am gaining to make connections to other subjects.
Some words on life at AQ, Pt. 1
On sunny days I awaken to light glistening in through my constantly open window. Cloudy days, the light is diffused and soft. I wake up at a different time each morning, or afternoon, or sometimes evening, based on the amount of sleep I obtained the previous night. Today is one of the grey days. I open my eyes and look across the room to see the time on my crimson microwave perched atop the refrigerator. I lie on my side with Conor’s arm limply draped over me. He is still asleep, and I am not surprised. I cuddle in closer—it gets chilly in the mornings—and due to the fact that my blankets have been dislodged and are no longer tucked in, several of them are on the floor below, further accentuating the shiver of the brisk morning breeze. It is too early. I turn my alarm off, and unwittingly drift back off to sleep, missing my 10:50 French 102. I do wake up with ample time to get to my 12:15 World History 162, however, and I am grateful for that. I roll over onto my left side and if Conor’s not awake yet, I whisper his name into his ear until he responds, usually with a groan, or a, “what time is it?” This morning, he is awake, and asks me what time it is. I tell him, and as usual, he replies, “FUCK!!” This signifies that he, like me, has slept straight through his first class. We talk in quiet voices for a bit until I decide that it is time for me to get out of bed. I kiss him on the cheek or forehead and say, “time to get up, kiddo,” or something of that nature. I swing out of bed like a clumsy, inexperienced acrobat, using the pipe above my bed. I push off the radiator or the windowsill with my toes, and land on the ground. My next destination is the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth and sometimes my hair. I go back into my room, boil some water from the bathroom sink, and make some instant oatmeal, with some apple spider on the side. Clothes are scattered beneath my bed: I grab a shirt, a sweater, and pants, and put them on. Finally, it is cig time. If Conor has dragged himself out of bed yet, and gone to his room to get ready, I walk down the hall to his room. I place a cigarette between his lips, one between mine, and we walk down to the ground floor, then outside to Cig Isle to start the day right. The first cigarette of the day is always a good one. My body has been deprived of the constant nicotine intake of my waking hours, and as I smoke, I wake up, due to the gentle buzz spreading throughout my system. Conor and I are fairly quiet, retaining our morning voices, and sometimes I bring a mug of hot chocolate for us to share. We pass the mug, and exchange gentle conversation between ourselves, or with the other people sitting at the Smoker’s Table.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Thursday, October 16, 2008
I really appreciate...
I really appreciate this class.
I appreciate classes that force me to write without many limits.
Gives me a chance,
to give myself
a chance.
I appreciate classes that force me to write without many limits.
Gives me a chance,
to give myself
a chance.
Yet another update on the moon:
As I sat outside, smoking a cig-- appropriately, on Cig Isle-- I observed the moon hanging in the sky, a bright white overinflated football.
Earlier, it was a soft, pale, opaque yellow. It glowed lopsidedly, hanging like an awkward hat on a hat rack, shedding shimmery light-- a dying glowstick in the morning.
Earlier, it was a soft, pale, opaque yellow. It glowed lopsidedly, hanging like an awkward hat on a hat rack, shedding shimmery light-- a dying glowstick in the morning.
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Vignettes from the past few days.
A little boy used to put his forehead against the microwave while he cooked his food and say to his mom dad brothers sisters friends mentors acquaintances look at me look at me im getting superpowers, well in high school he got leukemia and died a year later a great tragedy of our generation, our time.
A child used to play in a foreign yard. The man who owned the grass hates children on his lawn overprotective of the things he owns letting the things he owns his personal blades of grass and clots of dirt own him, got fed up one day saw the child in his yard and shot him, called the police said, I just shot a kid. Didn’t even say my bad obviously he has no empathy never had children of his own or just has a vendetta against children. Abuse of power.
A man stood on a porch last night at three twenty six in the very early morning and shouted he can do whatever he chooses and he wished us a merry Christmas on this crisp October day, what a trooper. What a Christian. He has faith, he does. Called after us all down the block words that he wanted to say, no Announce because they seemed important at the time and indeed they were they were not wasted they were valuable.
A child used to play in a foreign yard. The man who owned the grass hates children on his lawn overprotective of the things he owns letting the things he owns his personal blades of grass and clots of dirt own him, got fed up one day saw the child in his yard and shot him, called the police said, I just shot a kid. Didn’t even say my bad obviously he has no empathy never had children of his own or just has a vendetta against children. Abuse of power.
A man stood on a porch last night at three twenty six in the very early morning and shouted he can do whatever he chooses and he wished us a merry Christmas on this crisp October day, what a trooper. What a Christian. He has faith, he does. Called after us all down the block words that he wanted to say, no Announce because they seemed important at the time and indeed they were they were not wasted they were valuable.
A beautiful early morning spent laying in the center of Rosa Parks Circle, seeing the sky.
Johnnys in the basement mixin up the medicine im on the pavement thinkin bout the government lookout kid don’t matter what you did the man in the trenchcoat
Keep a clean nose you don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows
And I just did hear it blow along with click-tapping in the pipes I assume I don’t know I assume
That was a poorly constructed sentence says Charlie, I think, or did I just make that up and if I did then why is his voice repeating that in my mind?
Is a college degree really what I need right now?
Can I go through four more years of systematic brainwashing towards societal assimilation and still turn out ok?
My biggest fear is that in four years I wont want to live my life the way I want to live my life now which is in a sense ok because changing your mind is all a part of growing up but I don’t know if I really want to grow up in that direction and if I don’t grow up in that direction am I still truly grown up? Maybe not by societys standards but isn’t the whole point of this to not end up as a part of society but if im not a part of society can I still be successful. Yes the answer is yes. I can be successful in my own eyes. whats wrong with not growing up anyway? Whats so great about growing up being an adult taking responsibility?
I do want to be educated but there are other options for education than a college degree. Who the fuck decided that a piece of paper and some bullshit background classes make a person intelligent because that person, he, or she, is a half rate asshole. And also wrong. I don’t agree.
But then I go back and ask myself, is this just about me being lazy or is this true thought?
I wouldn’t search for answers to questions like that Jolie says, they’ll just show up he says
Im not searching im just questioning
They will show up, the answers, all in good time but that’s the problem all in good time I don’t have time I do but I feel I don’t I want to know now my mind is not built to wait to be patient to learn slowly I want to know it all, all at once.
Down by the whirpool
Don’t follow leaders watch your pawkin meters
A bitch with legs walks into the bar, and I mean a real bitch, four legs, shaggy fur and all that shenanigans.
Id like to define what truly makes me happy I mean I know some things that make me happy but overall what gives me satisfaction what is my drive ive told people its my interest in learning ive told people its my interest in the world but ive told people a lot of things including I love you and some of them were true and some were only true at the time and some of them were never true but will be in the future and some of them were not true and wont be and I accept that.
Some of the people can be part right all of the time
Part of the people can be all right some of the time
All of the people can be some right part of the time
But all the people cant be all right all of the time
Bob Dylan said that, or something like that, it’s a paraphrase. A personal interpretation.
Ill let you be in my dream if I can be in yours
I said that
Harmonica solo, I want some hot chocolate so im going to leap out of my high bed onto the hard floor to make some because I am cold and in need of some sort of beverage for warmth.
Chewing a cracker too many times to savor the flavor and absorb as many nutrients as possible
Choking on coughing is awful it will not stop however no matter how much I complain or will it to go away it is stronger than me and will overcome. Hopeful that my immune system will gather some more rebel soldiers together and start a movement in my body towards health. I need to start believing in this cause.
I am grateful when I lean off the bed and Conor holds my leg so I don’t fall and hurt myself.
Keep a clean nose you don’t need a weatherman to know which way the wind blows
And I just did hear it blow along with click-tapping in the pipes I assume I don’t know I assume
That was a poorly constructed sentence says Charlie, I think, or did I just make that up and if I did then why is his voice repeating that in my mind?
Is a college degree really what I need right now?
Can I go through four more years of systematic brainwashing towards societal assimilation and still turn out ok?
My biggest fear is that in four years I wont want to live my life the way I want to live my life now which is in a sense ok because changing your mind is all a part of growing up but I don’t know if I really want to grow up in that direction and if I don’t grow up in that direction am I still truly grown up? Maybe not by societys standards but isn’t the whole point of this to not end up as a part of society but if im not a part of society can I still be successful. Yes the answer is yes. I can be successful in my own eyes. whats wrong with not growing up anyway? Whats so great about growing up being an adult taking responsibility?
I do want to be educated but there are other options for education than a college degree. Who the fuck decided that a piece of paper and some bullshit background classes make a person intelligent because that person, he, or she, is a half rate asshole. And also wrong. I don’t agree.
But then I go back and ask myself, is this just about me being lazy or is this true thought?
I wouldn’t search for answers to questions like that Jolie says, they’ll just show up he says
Im not searching im just questioning
They will show up, the answers, all in good time but that’s the problem all in good time I don’t have time I do but I feel I don’t I want to know now my mind is not built to wait to be patient to learn slowly I want to know it all, all at once.
Down by the whirpool
Don’t follow leaders watch your pawkin meters
A bitch with legs walks into the bar, and I mean a real bitch, four legs, shaggy fur and all that shenanigans.
Id like to define what truly makes me happy I mean I know some things that make me happy but overall what gives me satisfaction what is my drive ive told people its my interest in learning ive told people its my interest in the world but ive told people a lot of things including I love you and some of them were true and some were only true at the time and some of them were never true but will be in the future and some of them were not true and wont be and I accept that.
Some of the people can be part right all of the time
Part of the people can be all right some of the time
All of the people can be some right part of the time
But all the people cant be all right all of the time
Bob Dylan said that, or something like that, it’s a paraphrase. A personal interpretation.
Ill let you be in my dream if I can be in yours
I said that
Harmonica solo, I want some hot chocolate so im going to leap out of my high bed onto the hard floor to make some because I am cold and in need of some sort of beverage for warmth.
Chewing a cracker too many times to savor the flavor and absorb as many nutrients as possible
Choking on coughing is awful it will not stop however no matter how much I complain or will it to go away it is stronger than me and will overcome. Hopeful that my immune system will gather some more rebel soldiers together and start a movement in my body towards health. I need to start believing in this cause.
I am grateful when I lean off the bed and Conor holds my leg so I don’t fall and hurt myself.
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
My moon.
La lune est tres, tres joli ce soir!
It is very round, bright, and defined.
A voluptuous moon.
It is very round, bright, and defined.
A voluptuous moon.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
A letter to a former mentor
Hello Mr. Larsen,
It's possible you don't remember me, at least not by name, but I was in poetry class with you sometime at the end of 2006, I think fourth term. I guess it was my junior year. Well, I'm a freshman at Aquinas College now, two years later. I just picked up my sealed journal from your poetry class a few weeks ago, and I wanted to thank you. It was late one night, or, rather, early one morning when I decided to read it. I was sitting with my friends Joel and Conor when I remembered that journal, and how you instructed us to keep it until college, then read it. I literally ran upstairs to get it.
I started at the beginning, reading aloud. It was a huge shock to me, to read about my pathetic little struggles from junior year. I realized the magnitude of how much I have grown up in the past two years, as well as how much learning and growing I have yet to do. Going back and reading that journal really did teach me a valuable lesson. I got a chance to really look back at myself, and realized the futility of putting myself on a pedestal. I really try not to put myself on a pedestal, but sometimes it happens without me even being concious of it. I truly understand now that as evolved or educated as I may think I am, I still have learning and growing yet to do.
I've never burned, or otherwise destroyed anything I've written before, but I took that journal, crumpled up each and every page as I read it, and burned it all, just to confirm the fact for myself that I am past that point in my life. Though that person two years ago was me--one version of me, at least--I am different now. At least a bit more grown up. Reading that journal completely tore me apart. I couldn't even believe some of the things I had written. I couldn't believe how absolutely pathetic I sounded.The only saving grace in all of this was the last page, when you told us to write a letter to ourself, in the future. That was the only part I could even come close to identifying with, and I was grateful for that.
Anyway, Mr. Larsen, thank you so much for being the only teacher to date who has forced me to question myself. Thank you for providing me with the most valuable class of my life so far. You taught me one of the most important things I could ever learn-- to think for myself. Keep up the good work. Really. You've changed my life. Thank you for giving me a completely different perspective on education. Thank you for helping me realize that as smart, or evolved as I believe I am at any given point in my life, I still have so much more potential to develop on. And most of all, thank you for teaching me how to learn.
You're the best!!! And I really hope you're still kicking along, strong as ever. Really, I know you must be. I'll most likely come visit at some point.
Sincerely,
Ellen
It's possible you don't remember me, at least not by name, but I was in poetry class with you sometime at the end of 2006, I think fourth term. I guess it was my junior year. Well, I'm a freshman at Aquinas College now, two years later. I just picked up my sealed journal from your poetry class a few weeks ago, and I wanted to thank you. It was late one night, or, rather, early one morning when I decided to read it. I was sitting with my friends Joel and Conor when I remembered that journal, and how you instructed us to keep it until college, then read it. I literally ran upstairs to get it.
I started at the beginning, reading aloud. It was a huge shock to me, to read about my pathetic little struggles from junior year. I realized the magnitude of how much I have grown up in the past two years, as well as how much learning and growing I have yet to do. Going back and reading that journal really did teach me a valuable lesson. I got a chance to really look back at myself, and realized the futility of putting myself on a pedestal. I really try not to put myself on a pedestal, but sometimes it happens without me even being concious of it. I truly understand now that as evolved or educated as I may think I am, I still have learning and growing yet to do.
I've never burned, or otherwise destroyed anything I've written before, but I took that journal, crumpled up each and every page as I read it, and burned it all, just to confirm the fact for myself that I am past that point in my life. Though that person two years ago was me--one version of me, at least--I am different now. At least a bit more grown up. Reading that journal completely tore me apart. I couldn't even believe some of the things I had written. I couldn't believe how absolutely pathetic I sounded.The only saving grace in all of this was the last page, when you told us to write a letter to ourself, in the future. That was the only part I could even come close to identifying with, and I was grateful for that.
Anyway, Mr. Larsen, thank you so much for being the only teacher to date who has forced me to question myself. Thank you for providing me with the most valuable class of my life so far. You taught me one of the most important things I could ever learn-- to think for myself. Keep up the good work. Really. You've changed my life. Thank you for giving me a completely different perspective on education. Thank you for helping me realize that as smart, or evolved as I believe I am at any given point in my life, I still have so much more potential to develop on. And most of all, thank you for teaching me how to learn.
You're the best!!! And I really hope you're still kicking along, strong as ever. Really, I know you must be. I'll most likely come visit at some point.
Sincerely,
Ellen
An ode to healthy lifestyle-livers
You,
Healthy lifestyle-livers,
I salute you.
You,
equipped with
your bicycles and
your Gatorade
your protein shakes, bars, etc.
and vitamins.
Yes,
a multitude of multivitamins.
All you healthy lifestyle-livers,
carrying with you all your weapons and armaments of choice
I do salute you.
I cannot join your ranks
You see,
I smoke.
Healthy lifestyle-livers,
I salute you.
You,
equipped with
your bicycles and
your Gatorade
your protein shakes, bars, etc.
and vitamins.
Yes,
a multitude of multivitamins.
All you healthy lifestyle-livers,
carrying with you all your weapons and armaments of choice
I do salute you.
I cannot join your ranks
You see,
I smoke.
Thursday, October 9, 2008
wow.
I miss all of my friends at home so intensely right now, I could cry.
I can't wait until two weeks and one day from now, when I get to see all of them.
I haven't been home the whole time since August 21st, the day I arrived here.
It's a funny thing, your whole senior year you cannot wait to get out. Get out of town, get away from all the same old people. Then as soon as you leave, you cannot wait to scurry back on home.
LO Town, I truly miss you.
One week. One day.
I can't wait until two weeks and one day from now, when I get to see all of them.
I haven't been home the whole time since August 21st, the day I arrived here.
It's a funny thing, your whole senior year you cannot wait to get out. Get out of town, get away from all the same old people. Then as soon as you leave, you cannot wait to scurry back on home.
LO Town, I truly miss you.
One week. One day.
Saturday, October 4, 2008
Le Matin
it is about to be a
ridiculous
extravangant
and overall
excessive
DAY.
with help from
brian clarkston
a top hat and
some fuckin accessories
ridiculous
extravangant
and overall
excessive
DAY.
with help from
brian clarkston
a top hat and
some fuckin accessories
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Obama Drama.
Setting
Barak Obama Rally, Downtown Grand Rapids
Exhibit A: Gas Station Knockoff Ray-Ban Sunglasses. Scarf. Olive Green Army Surplus Jacket, Ripped, Red Thread Mending.
Exhibit B: Woodland Mall Knockoff Ray-Ban Sunglasses. Silver Buttons-Up The Front White/Red Stars V-Neck Tee. Blue, White, Red Striped Pants. Four More Years Stapled On His Back.
Exhibit C: White Fifties-Style Sunglasses. Scarf. Vintage Gray, Purple, Brown, and Cerulean V-Neck Baggy Sweater. Fur-Hooded Faded Chocolate Brown Jacket. Mocs With Socks.
Exhibit D: No Sunglasses: He Does Not Own Any. Waist-Length Wavy Strawberry Blond Hair. Tie Dye Bandana. Caramel Leather Jacket.
Exhibit E: All In Tan And Desert Sandstorm. Waffle Shirt. Khakis.
A: "You want I should wipe da dead bugs off da windshield?" "We want Barak!"
B: "I'm Uncle Sam's illegitimate son," "Who's Obama?" "Want a cig for when Obama comes out?" (Directed toward a local contender for Judge)
C: "Chin up little Conor," "I saw Barak!"
D: Constant motion.
E: Driver. "Bitch!" "Well, thank you very much!"
Onlookers:
"You two are the Blues Brothers."
"Would you be willing to do a phone interview?"
"Can I bum a cigarette? This is the only time I will ask, don't worry."
"Hey it's, a Hipster bunch!"
"No, dude, no."
"Can I take your picture?"
"This is the Smoker's For Obama section."
"OH-BAM-AH! OH-BAM-AH!"
Barak Obama Rally, Downtown Grand Rapids
Exhibit A: Gas Station Knockoff Ray-Ban Sunglasses. Scarf. Olive Green Army Surplus Jacket, Ripped, Red Thread Mending.
Exhibit B: Woodland Mall Knockoff Ray-Ban Sunglasses. Silver Buttons-Up The Front White/Red Stars V-Neck Tee. Blue, White, Red Striped Pants. Four More Years Stapled On His Back.
Exhibit C: White Fifties-Style Sunglasses. Scarf. Vintage Gray, Purple, Brown, and Cerulean V-Neck Baggy Sweater. Fur-Hooded Faded Chocolate Brown Jacket. Mocs With Socks.
Exhibit D: No Sunglasses: He Does Not Own Any. Waist-Length Wavy Strawberry Blond Hair. Tie Dye Bandana. Caramel Leather Jacket.
Exhibit E: All In Tan And Desert Sandstorm. Waffle Shirt. Khakis.
A: "You want I should wipe da dead bugs off da windshield?" "We want Barak!"
B: "I'm Uncle Sam's illegitimate son," "Who's Obama?" "Want a cig for when Obama comes out?" (Directed toward a local contender for Judge)
C: "Chin up little Conor," "I saw Barak!"
D: Constant motion.
E: Driver. "Bitch!" "Well, thank you very much!"
Onlookers:
"You two are the Blues Brothers."
"Would you be willing to do a phone interview?"
"Can I bum a cigarette? This is the only time I will ask, don't worry."
"Hey it's, a Hipster bunch!"
"No, dude, no."
"Can I take your picture?"
"This is the Smoker's For Obama section."
"OH-BAM-AH! OH-BAM-AH!"
Bad Choices, Pt. 1
The Dreaded Sickness+Absolutely No Sleep Whatsoever+Copious Cigarette Smoke Intake+Torturously Horrid Cafeteria Fare+Sharing a Bed with Someone Sicker than You+Mocking Barack+Full Day of Class+Working a Job You Hate+Test Make-Up for a Class You Barely/Rarely Understand=
Dying, Dead, Death.
Dying, Dead, Death.
AMC 130, 4 AM, Tuesday Night. Thoughts.
This is what I've learned-- given a lull in conversation, or an awkward moment, or any discomfort whatsoever, most people will embrace the opportunity to talk shit. At least this shit reminds me of who my real friends are and why they mean so much to me. I still am overcome with frustration knowing that NOT ONE of my friends from home would call me first about this business. NOPE. Only Amber. One more reason to value and appreciate her as a genuinely good person.
----------------------------------
rock me mama like a wagon wheel rock me mama any way you feel
ay...yadda yadda
rock me mama like the wind and the rain rock me mama like a southbound train
ay...yadda yadda
----------------------------------
rock me mama like a wagon wheel rock me mama any way you feel
ay...yadda yadda
rock me mama like the wind and the rain rock me mama like a southbound train
ay...yadda yadda
I am now the manager of the most epic band to form on Aquinas soil.
Name: Bam Bench and the AfterLaughter
Upcoming Album: Rape in Wilcox Park
Band Members
Drums, Vocals: Casual Charles
Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals: Big Smokin' Baby Jolie
Rocks, Cowbell, Vocals: The Original Carrie Veldman, Me
Specialties: 80's hair metal covers, cover of The Offspring's "Self Esteem."
WHAT UP, WHAT UP!!
AMC 130.
Upcoming Album: Rape in Wilcox Park
Band Members
Drums, Vocals: Casual Charles
Guitar, Harmonica, Vocals: Big Smokin' Baby Jolie
Rocks, Cowbell, Vocals: The Original Carrie Veldman, Me
Specialties: 80's hair metal covers, cover of The Offspring's "Self Esteem."
WHAT UP, WHAT UP!!
AMC 130.
It's Alright, It's OK!
Once again my honesty gets me into trouble.
Apparently,
though I've only been here for five weeks,
I've been informed that there are people on this campus that hate me.
Wow.
Excellent.
What did I do? I am not a mean person, not an asshole. I actually am quite kind, even to people I somewhat dislike. I make an effort to be.
The way my friend Josh explains it, I am too blatant.
I say what is on my mind.
True.
But I do make an honest effort to be subtle, to talk about the right things with the right people.
Apparently I have some developing to do in the people skills area.
Or not.
I'd rather be in the company of people who appreciate me for who I am.
Yes.
And these people do exist.
I've already met them.
And they are the only people I need.
Honestly, I would rather not have people hate me.
But in the words of Kurt Cobain: "I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not."
Yes.
Apparently,
though I've only been here for five weeks,
I've been informed that there are people on this campus that hate me.
Wow.
Excellent.
What did I do? I am not a mean person, not an asshole. I actually am quite kind, even to people I somewhat dislike. I make an effort to be.
The way my friend Josh explains it, I am too blatant.
I say what is on my mind.
True.
But I do make an honest effort to be subtle, to talk about the right things with the right people.
Apparently I have some developing to do in the people skills area.
Or not.
I'd rather be in the company of people who appreciate me for who I am.
Yes.
And these people do exist.
I've already met them.
And they are the only people I need.
Honestly, I would rather not have people hate me.
But in the words of Kurt Cobain: "I'd rather be hated for who I am than loved for who I am not."
Yes.
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