Liberal Test

"I Can See My House From Here!"

Everybody go to http://www.globexplorer.com and see an aerial view of your house and your neighborhood. It's fucking awesome, scary, and a waste of time, all at once! Just look at how much time I've wasted! It's almost 5:fucking30 a.m.!

San Antonio Sucks/You Guys Are All Nerds

Bring it on, San Antonio. We'll do the same thing to you that we did to Houston. You guys are just a warm-up for the showdown with the Kings... who are still ugly.

I don't understand how all of you nerds can study so much. How do you wake up in the morning and just get to work like that? I need at least four hours of fuck-around-and-not-do-jack-shit time right after I wake up. And then once I get to work, I need a Wawa break like every twenty minutes or so. I just don't understand.

Of course, incomprehension does not imply inferiority or superiority either way. In fact, I'm probably a dumb-fuck for not doing any work since classes ended on Friday. Despite my confusion, I also admire all of you hardworking students out there who are really putting your parents' money to good use. I, on the other hand, am quite possibly spending this week wasting/squandering/burning/flushing down the toilet hard-earned dollars for the joys of sitting on my ass all day wearing sunglasses indoors and bopping my head to Lynyrd Skynyrd's "Sweet Home Alabama." Is it worth it? It feels like it is right now. However, once I pay for these slothful, lazy, and procrastinating sins with grades in the basement levels of the skyscraper that was once my academic promise and career, I will surely say to myself, "Self -- you shoulda done a little reading during Reading Days."

And then I'd pick up my guitar off the sand, walk along the beach to a white-washed bench, lie down, and fall asleep, with the warmth of the sun forever dancing in the pores of my sea-blown skin.

3 Movies, 24 Hours

Watched Primal Fear, Chasing Amy, and This Is Spinal Tap all in a span of the last 24 hours. Diagnosis: Edward Norton is brilliant, Kevin Smith is funny, and Christopher Guest films are not my type of humor.

The Sunshine

The sunshine today has reminded me of something inside of me, deep down. Way, way deep down, deeper than these clothes, these sunglasses, deeper than the poetry and the emptiness, deeper than everything that's ever happened to me since I was five years old, and everyone I've met in Texas and Philadelphia.

When I graduate from here, I'm moving out to Los Angeles, California again in the summer of 2007. I'm living as close to Venice Beach/Santa Monica Pier as I can possibly afford. I'll grab any shit office job I can downtown, even if I'll be overqualified. Fuck New York. Fuck San Francisco. I am L.A.

Jay & Silent Bob Strike Back and High Fidelity

The former was mostly a terrible movie, redeemed only by the vague references to previous works in the canon of Kevin Smith, mainly Clerks, Chasing Amy, and Dogma. With cameos up the wazoo from favorite characters in all those films, things stayed a little bit interesting for me.

The latter was excellent. The writing in that movie was pitch perfect. Owning a record store like that, however, would be closer to Number 1 on my Top 5 Jobs of All Time. In tribute to the movie, here is...

My Top 5 Songs For A Rainy Day:
1) "Just Like A Woman" - Bob Dylan
2) "No Surprises" - Radiohead
3) "Ironic" - Alanis Morissette
4) "Have You Ever Seen The Rain" - Creedence Clearwater Revival
5) "There Is No If..." - Cure

Untitled

Cleaned my room today. Threw out two bags of trash. Une petite garce et une belle folle.

Conversation With Eric

It is human nature to desire relationships. I don't mean "going out" per se, but rather any sort of relationship, with any sort of outward thing. It is human nature to create a relationship with a place, for instance, adding an extra, ethereal meaning to it, calling it "my hometown." The creation of a relationship with something like that inherently adds intangible meaning to it beyond what it means in and of itself. It is human nature to thusly attach itself outward to other things. In Cast Away, Tom Hanks's character reached out to a volleyball. People have their favorite baseball cap. People have their favorite sports team. In cave man days, I am convinced that people had their favorite animal-killing club or walking stick. People always have this urge to pull strings out of their hearts and tie them to other things or other people, attach themselves to the real world, and make things more meaningful than they really, objectively are...

If one were only able to tie a string not outward, but inward, onto oneself, the meaning of life would be found, and all problems would disappear. But that's probably about as impossible as a mirror ever being able to see itself.

Memento

It was incredible.

People

Do people actually fundamentally change over time? Or is it simply that more of a person is revealed or emerges as time goes on, like the facets on one unchanging crystal slowly turning in the light and reflecting different colors?

Late Night Haiku

Boys are kissing boys,
On the patio outside;
That girl looks lonely.

Why is "SPHINX" written in chalk everywhere?

On Second Thought

On second thought, never mind. Deleted post.

My GA is Crazy (in a Good Way)

Top of the glorious day,

Now that fling is most decidedly flung, utterly ex post facto and shy on hedonic gasoline, the prospect of a up-and-coming pick-me-up -- to restore, regestalt, reboot, reanimate, revivify, relay! -- might just have a smidgeon of appeal.

Gregory's House Brunch is all about post-apogee, amelioration and akin phenomena. It appears this very afternoon to address our rather tender post-apocalyptic moment: to solely mollify soul of souls.

Flung what: Semi-quasi-gregarious brunch, complete with foodstuffs, drinkstuffs and folkstuff

Flung where: Van Pelt Piano Lounge

Flung when: 1pm, today

Flung why: Incredible oodles of thanks to the residents of Van Pelt 201 and 202 for beginning the post-fling era a little early to bebrunchify us all.

I hope your day is strangely wonderful,

Paul Grant, Graduate Associate, Gregory College House

Too

Too much walking. Too much standing. Too many stairs.

Not enough alcohol.

Spring Fling 2004.

Another Night Of Firsts

Tonight was my first night ever at a concert. I saw Working Title, Reel Big Fish, and Wyclef Jean perform. Working Title went on for a couple songs too long, Reel Big Fish was very fun, energetic, and awesome, and Wyclef Jean was also very cool.

Tonight was also my first mosh pit, and the first time I ever lost my cell phone. Somebody found it, though, and called Chandan, and I got it back after a while, but by the time I got my phone and ate a little something, it was already 2 a.m. and the Quad wasn't letting people get signed in.

So now I'm here, the second night of Spring Fling, completely sober, and tired from all the jumping and mosh pitting at the concert. I just want to lie down and go to bed.

"Like A Rolling Stone" by Bob Dylan

quakerchicken (3:47:18 AM): hey
----- (3:47:25 AM): hey, did you wind up going out?
quakerchicken (3:47:31 AM): yes
----- (3:47:34 AM): cool :-)
quakerchicken (3:47:38 AM): you?
----- (3:47:41 AM): nope
quakerchicken (3:47:48 AM): why not?
----- (3:47:49 AM): i drew in the studio till 3
quakerchicken (3:47:57 AM): wow
quakerchicken (3:48:11 AM): i um
----- (3:48:12 AM): i have this final project due thursday thats really hard and its gonna take a lot of time
quakerchicken (3:48:27 AM): i drank :-[
----- (3:48:59 AM): do you ever drink?
quakerchicken (3:49:02 AM): no
quakerchicken (3:49:05 AM): tonight was my first time
----- (3:49:10 AM): did u get sick?
quakerchicken (3:49:15 AM): no not at all
quakerchicken (3:49:18 AM): i didn't drink a lot
quakerchicken (3:49:23 AM): i had three beers
----- (3:49:35 AM): oh ok, there's a first time for everything
----- (3:49:38 AM): did you have a good time?
quakerchicken (3:49:43 AM): i think so
quakerchicken (3:49:45 AM): it's kind of hard to tell
----- (3:49:50 AM): were you drunk?
quakerchicken (3:49:55 AM): no
quakerchicken (3:50:06 AM): everyone kept saying i was very coherent and i was walking in a straight line
quakerchicken (3:50:12 AM): i do feel very warm right now though
----- (3:50:17 AM): lol!
quakerchicken (3:50:47 AM): and a little off balance, but nothing that would keep me from walking upright and unwobbly
----- (3:50:49 AM): so why was it hard to tell if you had a good time
quakerchicken (3:51:11 AM): i guess because i have no basis for comparison
----- (3:51:21 AM): oh i just meant in general
quakerchicken (3:51:24 AM): i mean i guess it was nice to be going places with people i know
----- (3:51:25 AM): like did you have a nice night
quakerchicken (3:51:37 AM): i guess it was nicer than staying in and reading anna karenina
quakerchicken (3:51:41 AM): but i didn't dance or do anything
quakerchicken (3:51:54 AM): i just walked around and talked with some friends
quakerchicken (3:52:14 AM): in retrospect that doesn't sound like a lot of fun
----- (3:53:02 AM): things are always more fun when you're slightly tipsy
----- (3:53:06 AM): haha
quakerchicken (3:53:29 AM): i guess, but i mean
quakerchicken (3:53:36 AM): i really have no basis for comparison
quakerchicken (3:53:40 AM): since i've never gone out before
quakerchicken (3:53:51 AM): i can only compare it to, like, studying
----- (3:53:52 AM): some nights you just walk around pretty much
quakerchicken (3:54:04 AM): are those successful nights?
----- (3:54:27 AM): sometimes, it depends if you are expecting anything and who you are with
quakerchicken (3:54:34 AM): i was with fun people
----- (3:54:41 AM): sounds good to me
quakerchicken (3:54:46 AM): alright then
quakerchicken (3:54:47 AM): in that case, yes
quakerchicken (3:54:49 AM): i had a good time

The Perfect Song

I love it when I'm walking to class, and the perfect song comes on my iPod. Today, it happened at about 4:20 p.m., on Walnut Street, with the sun and my sunglasses, the wind and my hair, the bounce and my step: This Love by Maroon 5. Thanks, iPod, for knowing exactly what mood I'm in!

Holy Shit!

Holy shit! The Lakers won the Pacific Division title away from the Sacramento Kings in the last game of the season, on a last second three-point shot by Kobe Bryant at the buzzer in double overtime! Does anyone realize in how many ways that is so fucking awesome?! Firstly, the Kings dropped to fourth in the Western Conference, where they belong, because they suck and they're ugly. Secondly, it shows how much better the Lakers are than everyone else. And it all happened at the very last second! Exciting!

I hate the Kings so much. Why is it legal for a team like that to be so ugly? I can't wait to eliminate their ugly faces in the playoffs. I mean, I can't wait when the Lakers do it. And I watch and go, "Yeah, the Kings are so damn ugly." I can't wait.

I Own This School

While everyone else was probably studying tonight for the chemistry midterm tomorrow, I was popping popcorn and watching The Virgin Suicides. Why? Because I own this school.

The Virgin Suicides was not a great movie. It was rather pedestrian, in fact. The only real good thing about it was that it was short, clocking in at 90 minutes. Everything else was simply mediocre - nothing fascinating whatsoever. Or perhaps I'm just reacting unfairly to the first movie I've watched since the brilliant Eternal Sunshine.

Fragments

I think in fragments. Pieces. Transient seconds of perfectly poignant poetic perfection. Moments of clarity. Epiphanies in literary linguistics. They come and they go, and they are rarely complete thoughts. Mostly just shadows of thoughts moving between the wrinkles on the surface of my brain. I have trouble with complete thoughts. There's too much empty space between the things that are beautiful in this world. So I can only think in fragments. And really, that is all.

That is what I call the poetry in my mind.

The songs in my head.

The music in my ears.

The sun in my eyes.

The love in my heart.

And the life in my hands.

The Horror Show

Since I was a little kid I tried to get out of my head;
Trapped on the playground I would stare at the sky,
I didn't even know why? Some conform and some try to escape.
We're the bait, we're all alone, in a horror show...
The creep in you is the creep in me - we don't want to die.
Do you feel there's nowhere to go? We're the bait,
In a horror show, we're all alone, in a horror show. Oh no.
I know we're unloveable: you don't have much in your life.
Take the show, it's yours, message received, loud and clear.
You don't have to tell me I wear black on the outside,
Because black is how I feel on the inside; I'll be there. Just
Say the word, and you'll be free like me, the word, the word, the word.
And now the dynamite walls between us, they crash through
Broken nights and broken dreams. Open your eyes, just go.
The air is turning to falling snow now, miles away, just up ahead.
It doesn't matter what any of us is looking for;
We'll never find it because it's not even there - you're alone,
Without a name, on nameless streets, all alone,
In this horror show of life, of love - with my head on the floor,
Cracked open porcelain, white flower petals strewn spilling,
Cracked in nightmares of broken glass. Why did you fall in
When I ran back, why did you fall in? Surely, I do, if only
For this fake plastic life we live; I'm just trying to get rid of the sound.
The laughing world will never forget that I am just a name,
That you are just a rose without a fragrance, and that everything,
Everything... always goes back to the start:
When I was just a little kid, trying to get out of my head.

I Like...

- The feeling of warm socks fresh out of the dryer on my feet
- The Smashing Pumpkins
- Cherry blossoms in springtime
- An ice cold Coca-Cola
- Conversations about music
- Night time
- Lying down but not sleeping
- Breathing in and beholding good health in my own body
- Walking with a song in my head
- Smiles and laughter
- Sun and blue sky
- Watching rain drops on a window pane
- Watching the clouds roll slowly by
- Staring at the stars
- T. S. Eliot
- Watching a good film
- Watching an entertaining movie
- Playing my guitar, Lucy
- Cleaning my room
- Looking at Edward Hopper paintings
- The creeped out feeling you get when listening to certain Radiohead songs
- Grilled chicken sandwiches with cheese, lettuce, onions, mushrooms, and Hemo Sauce from Hemo's Food Truck
- Swishing a three-pointer on the fast break at Pottruck
- Stopping my life to sit on The Bench on a busy afternoon
- The ending of the very last song on a CD, and the "whirrrr" of the CD player after it's done
- A girl

Getting Kicked Out of the Library on a Saturday Night

To

With my face pressed up to the glass,
I look down; I look away; I look near.
With my hands tied down to my sides,
I clasp; I squeeze; I twitch.
With my knees stuck between the bars,
I wobble; I fidget; I fall.
With my heart pressed against my throat,
I choke; I stammer; I lie.
With my life shut off from the world,
I try; I cry; and I die.

The saddest thing that's ever happened to me: getting kicked out of the library on a Saturday night because of 2 a.m. closing. Eric, you and I live sad, sad, chemistry-studying lives.

New York University

I had a dream once of transferring to NYU. I had a dream of defying all the expectations that had been piled on me since the day of my birth 18 some odd years ago. I would destroy the David Liu of my parents' creation and leave this wretched, good-for-nothing snob-monster of an Ivy League university. I would get out of this program designed specifically to teach me how to be rich and manipulate people's lives into higher numbered profit margins. I would shake the necessity to prove myself to anyone in a material world. I would study film in lower Manhattan, in Greenwich Village, at the Tisch School of Fine Arts at NYU. I would concentrate in Cinematography. I would drink a lot of coffee and smoke a lot of cigarettes, wear dark sunglasses at night, and make films. I would write and shoot and direct and edit and screen prolifically. I might even become a little notorious. But I wouldn't be in Philadelphia, and I wouldn't be at Penn. It'd all be behind me, the first 18 years of my carefully constructed life. I would be the artist I was meant to be. And I would be alone.

I was cleaning my room today, and found the Application for Transfer Students that I had printed out for NYU, buried underneath gum wrappers and Amnesty International flyers. I had thumbed through it so many times last semester, mulling over the essay questions and who I could give that recommendation letter to. I thumbed through it one more time, and with a sigh, tossed it in the trash. The deadline has passed, and so has the dream, gone from my life.

I know that this is my life.

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

I just watched Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and I've decided I must watch it again. Soon. I don't think I was really ready for how brilliant it was going to be. This movie is an instant favorite for me. It doesn't have the self-conscious wit of Adaptation, but everything about it clicks with a conviction that only Charlie Kaufman can pull off. The man is a veritable screenwriting genius. He is the greatest screenwriter of our time, without a doubt.

I spent another afternoon on The Bench, staring down the sun. Staring down the sky. Staring down passers-by. Staring down the insides of my own eyes. Staring down a page from a book. Staring down my life. Just staring.

So I'm sorry if I didn't see you passing by. I was staring... at something.

Less Than Ordinary

It's not that I have nothing to say. It's that I have too much to say. And so I am forced to leave it at that.

Can We Know Reality? + My First Poem, With Irony

Yes. I believe there is a reality. I believe there is truth. I believe we are capable of knowing what it is. I believe it is still yet undiscovered. I think some people are pretty close. I think I'm pretty far. But I think that's the only way.

Since when did I become so inarticulate? I was a poet once, and a writer, believe it or not. I had a book to write, once. Twice, actually. I had pages of poetry, about love, about pain, about ennui, about night, about my life... I had essays. Pages of prose about... well, you name it, I wrote about it. I used to be prolific. Quality writing, too, insightful. Incisive. Cut to the core of the very essence of life itself. The very profundity of it all. And in one brash night, I erased it. I deleted it all, I cut it loose into the nether regions of cyberspace. Lost on a hard drive somewhere in Kansas. Gone, effectively, forever.

What a mistake. That was my core, my foundation. That base, that anchor allowed me to move forward and farther out into the metaphysics of writing. Now I've lost all that, and must begin anew. I must begin from the beginning again. I am no longer a poet. I have no poetry to show. I am no longer a writer. I have no writing to show. I am nothing. I am just another random guy posting on a random blog. Oh, how that kills me. I have truly had a very hard fall indeed. Should I even attempt to begin again? How could I create again? Recreate from nothing? Could God erase everything and create another Universe exactly like this one, following the exact same line of history through all time? Ending with me, here, tonight, with the exact same thoughts and feelings as I do now? That is what it would take for me to want to start again.

Fuck it.

My First Poem

We've been here before, you and I;
like perfect strangers in the night,
chancing to meet in the dark dreams -
or the waking nightmares - of our minds.
There nary be a mist without my shadow,
following the gloomy corners, the mellows,
the silences and the glances. I follow,
I follow my own shadow, and the mist
in my eyes, that fogs my third eye blind.
But here we are - again - at last - once -
for another - like next time - like last time,
Indeed, here we are. Your voice like golden,
molten notes, stretched out as thin as ice,
ice that I lightly tread on, lightly step on,
and fall through...
Arms reaching out for Heaven,
Arms reaching out for Helen,
Arms reaching out for anything to save my life...

And grabbing nothing but air.

ATTN: Lakers

Hey! Stop losing!

Nerd Patrol

I was taking my customary 2 a.m. walk down Spruce Street tonight. It was quiet, not the sound of a car, nor the rustle of the trees, nor a human voice carried by the wind could be heard. Suddenly, I made out a very faint, but high pitched squeek coming from behind me. The sound slowly but steadily got louder. The thing was approaching me from behind, I could not see what it was. The Doppler effect was causing the pitch to go lower and lower, yet louder and louder. Suddenly, I was overtaken by it, and saw it run past me. I turned my head to look.

It was this HUMUNGOUS NERD with glasses, riding a bicycle. He had this giant, goofy looking helmet on, his bike had a little basket in front, and a mirror for the rear view. I didn't really think to myself, "OMG! NERD!" until he passed me by, and I saw clipped on his back pocket the most ridiculous thing I've ever seen. It was a flashing red, battery powered blinking light - you know, for safety. I snickered to myself all the way home. What a nerd. Nerd Patrol.

I just finished watching Shakespeare In Love. I understood most of the literary and historical references, which was good. There weren't that many. Having already read Romeo and Juliet and Twelfth Night, I was well read enough. Overall, though, it was a fairly Hollywood type movie, which I was expecting of course. I have a hard time being affected by Hollywood movies though. The cinematography was pretty unnotable. The acting was serviceable. I guess in general, my reaction would have to be, "It was OK. I didn't hate it." Which is not bad.

Shakespeare, believe it or not, was pretty good at writing though.

How Fortunes Change

Just one week ago, I felt like I was on top of the world. Seven days and one bad Wawa sandwich later, I feel like the world is on top of me.

Kids: be not too brash in anything, for all things in life, including life itself, are fleeting.

AN URGENT WARNING FOR EVERYONE

URGENT WARNING!!!!!!!

Whatever you do, do NOT get a MEATBALL SANDWICH from WAWA. Either the SAUCE or the MEATBALLS are somehow CONTAMINATED or have GONE BAD. I ate one last night around 3 a.m., and woke up this morning with a terribly UPSET STOMACH. Finally just dragging myself out of bed, I made it to the sink, where I coughed a little, and promptly VOMITED red-colored sauce and stomach juices, THREE TIMES.

I use such graphic language only to discourage you, the reader, from repeating my mistakes. I understand that not everyone will be humble enough to heed my advice - perhaps if it were me in your situation, I would be just as brash and continue going to Wawa, thinking I was invincible - but IT'S TOO RISKY to take that chance. Do not think you are invincible, and even if you do escape harm, it is only because you got very lucky. My greatest wish would be that my terrible, extreme suffering this morning be not in vain, that I SUFFERED FOR THE BENEFIT AND EDUCATION OF OTHERS, that I TOOK THE FALL SO THAT NO ONE ELSE WILL. So please, DO NOT REPEAT MY MISTAKES. It would truly sadden me to see a compatriot suffer the same fate I did this morning, just because he or she was so brash as to ignore my warnings.

I think I have to throw up again. PLEASE JUST BE CAREFUL. BE CAUTIOUS. That's all I wish to say. My sandwich tasted good going down, but it definitely DID NOT TASTE SO GREAT GOING UP. Thank you for listening. That is all.

The Resurrection of Spring

I've decided that my life is one long A Minor chord. Maybe a little D Minor, and even the occasional E Minor. If there were ever a major chord in my life, it would probably be G Major. Maybe sometimes C Major. But yeah, the dominant chord is definitely A Minor.

I wonder if my roommate can hear me through the wall when I fart. It's a pretty thin wall. I'm kind of embarrassed by this thought, because I barely know him, and I think he probably thinks I'm weird already for not talking to anyone in Gregory or being an outgoing person. I mean, if on top of all that, he could also hear me fart, I think that would explain why I have no friends in Gregory and they are all in the Quad. I don't fart in the Quad for some reason. Too pristine.

The wind screams down the streets like a hysterical mother looking for her lost child, bowling over anyone in her path. This lost child is Spring. Let us all hope and pray that Mary of the Wind finds her baby Spring and returns calm and sanity to Spruce Street. O, Madonna, only the arrival of Spring could squelch your fury. "Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned."

Sometimes you get a thirst that can only be quenched by the bitterest of drinks. My bitter thirst quencher is coffee. Black coffee.

'Cause I'm thinking 'bout a brand new hope,
The one I've never known,
'Cause now I know it's all that I wanted
-- Green Day

Spinning Out of Control (Please Excuse My Temporary Insanity)

My life is spinning out of control. Today is the last day to register for summer classes and my advisor still has not given me the requisite signoff. Someone left the Newman Center Semi-Formal early and accidentally took my suitcoat blazer with him, leaving me to walk home without a jacket. No one has returned it yet. I totally fell asleep in my clothes again for the second night in a row. My room is a complete mess - I haven't dusted or vacuumed since a couple weeks before spring break started. I've either not been eating healthy, or not been eating at all, and lately, it's been not eating at all. I lose my appetite every time I try to eat a meal. Food has lost its taste. Consequently, I am getting weaker and out of shape. I got tired after playing basketball yesterday after an hour. I used to be able to run with energy for like 4 hours. I got tired at the dance last night too, and at the club the night before. I've neglected all of my piling homework: I'm behind by at least 100 pages of Anna Karenina (I haven't checked yet), I'm behind two math homework assignments, and a third one is coming up this week. And my Legal Studies participation grade probably equals something around 0 right now. Oh, right, and I almost forgot. I have a Chem Lab Report Write-up that is due tomorrow as well. Music has not been able to save me either. Like food, music has lost its taste to me as well. Only a handful of songs still speak to me now. The rest are just empty sounds. And Daylight Savings Time has robbed me of an hour I would really appreciate having today, with all the things I need to get done.

And there is this overall feeling of inexplicable, crushing weight on every cell in my body and brain that I just can't shake.

At least I had fun at the Semi-Formal until I lost my blazer.

In Da Club, Then In Da Quad

George and Jon took me to my first college party and club last night. By the time we got in, it was probably around midnight. I did not drink an ounce of alcohol, although I was offered the opportunity a couple of times. It was really hot and I was wearing too much. I can't say if I had fun or not, but I shouldn't have to, since that was not the point. The point was to break the monotony of life, and I think I accomplished that. So yes, it was unmonotonous. Actually, I can't say that with 100% accuracy. After about half an hour, it was monotonous. I mean, the music was. I have decided I don't really like clubs, because they don't play music I like to dance to. They play the same kind of songs over and over, and force everyone to dance the exact same dance over and over. I want to go to a club that plays disco, swing, and retro along with the rap and stuff. I think that would have been more fun. I like dancing to disco and swing. The only song remotely different from your usual club song they played was "Hey Ya!" by Outkast, and I enjoyed dancing to that one the most. I don't think there are any clubs like that though.

We got back to Penn around 3:00 a.m. My ears could barely hear anything. I realized I didn't have my keys and was locked out of Gregory until the morning, when they unlock the doors. So I spent the night in the Quad with George, sitting on the floor of his hallway, and then falling asleep on the couches in McClelland around 5 a.m. We chatted, and my ears eventually came back to me. I woke up around 10:00 a.m. and came back to Gregory, noticing new creatures to the Gregorian landscape. Joining the squirrels, mice, and roaches in this habitat are Gregory's newest guests: ugly, pink worms!.

It's great to be home.

The Lakers, Dr. Pepper, a Botched April Fool's Prank, CVS, Wawa, and My Bitch Printer

The Sacramento Kings lost tonight to the Dallas Mavericks, at the same time that the Los Angeles Lakers beat the Houston Rockets. In the standings, that means the Lakers have caught up and are now TIED FOR FIRST in the entire WESTERN CONFERENCE. That's half of the NBA (the better half, without a doubt). A lot of people are going to owe me five dollars, and I plan on collecting on everyone. Yeah, EVERYONE. People are so dumb. I don't understand how one bets against the Lakers.

I also had my first can of Dr. Pepper tonight for the first time in a long time. I think it's safe now to go back to drinking products from the COMPANY THAT OWNS PLANO, TEXAS, WHICH STILL SHOULD BURN IN HELL.

There were also a couple of failed attempts at April Fool's jokes by me and my accomplice. Things didn't work out since people lock their doors in America, because they are gripped by fear. We wouldn't have had this problem in Canada, where nobody locks their doors, because locks are repressive for a society. They don't keep people out. They lock you in. By the way, go watch Bowling for Columbine. You'll either love it or hate it, but it will at least make you think about some interesting issues, publicity stunts aside. Well, I think Plan B worked with the the prank, but results will have to wait until tomorrow, I think.

Then I accompanied Eric to CVS to buy super glue, and we had a good, thorough discussion about the relative merits of the vast selection of super glues on the shelf. Price considerations won out, I believe.

Then Frank accompanied me to Wawa and we had a similar discourse on which flavor chip would go best with the chicken noodle soup I ordered. That was a more difficult thing to solve, and we had it narrowed down to either Ranch or Sour Cream & Onion, and we decided the spiciness of the Ranch flavored chip gave it too much of an independent, rebellious streak. Does not work cooperatively with other flavors. We thought the Sour Cream & Onion had a more amiable personality that was willing to work together and try to complement other tastes, like that of chicken noodle soup. I forgot all about it when we got back, though, and ate all the soup before opening the bag of chips. So much for that.

And my printer is a little bitch, because it wastes my paper for no reason, printing random non-sensical symbols on all the pages. I just came back from class today and all my paper was in a stack on the top tray, with weird symbols on them. Bitch printer. Or maybe I'm the bitch...

I might have more to say, but then I would be broaching the guidelines set down by the title of this post. I don't want to break my own rules like that. So I'll just keep it down to those subjects which I indicated above. That's fair. Good night.

IRRITABLE BOWEL SYNDROME (IBS)!!!

LOOK AT THE ADVERTISEMENT AT THE TOP OF MY BLOG! THEY'RE USING MY BLOG TO ADVERTISE ABOUT IRRITABLE BOWEL SYNDROME (IBS)!!! THAT'S SO AWESOME! I FUCKING RULE!

Hair, etc.

I got my hairs cut today. At first I was appalled. Mortified. I had lost the resolve I had earlier to shave everything, thanks to basically everyone telling me not to. So I decided to just get rid of the mullet thing. So I told they guy, "Just cut the back, I like the front long." And he goes and cuts the front. So I got home and took a good long look at it and was outraged. Appalled. Mortified. I'm starting to get used to it already, though. It doesn't look so bad to me anymore. Hair is not that big of a deal. It's all going to fall out eventually anyway.

I'm tired, but I don't want to sleep. I want to walk around, but it's too windy. I want to speak, but I'm afraid of laughter.

I want to live, but I'm afraid of death.

I want to live, but I'm afraid of life.

I need to get out of my room! Before I start to rot in my own self-loathing thoughts! My mind is its own scavenging vulture...