they wouldn't get out of the car
2001-10-19 - 2:14 p.m.
Gawd, it�s werse than I thought. Some people from The Real World and/or Road Rules (I�m told they�re MTV shows) came to my college a couple days ago. People went crazy. Crowded in like it was a freakin� hard rock concert, and started chanting �ohmygod� in not-so-perfect unison. I only stayed long enough to worry about the resonance of the building being reached and pity the tv watchers. This is what comes, from wearing Calvin Klein shirts.
Got my psychology midterm back. 125 points out of 100...smells fishy. Like the trunk of a the professor�s corvette.
There is historical evidence to support an economic revolution on the horizon....red sky in morning, if you will. The businesses found out that they don�t need to pay for advertisement if they can buy off their consumers directly. Who better to fill the shoes of Abraham Cowly and Henry Ford than Bill Gates. It is quite possible that we will turn back into a predominantly two-class system...those that really know the power of a mouse click, and those that can�t find the button to turn their computer on. This is, of course, assuming that we come out in the positives after our war with the Middle East, that the economy stays healthy, and that someone has the sense to write The Program. I understand that constitutes a great deal of �if�s. But if all goes as planned datewise, the computer program mentioned should evolve within the next few years, and the scales will tip within the next ten. But I really would rather not be the new and improved version of a Jehovah�s Witness, selling a triangular pseudo-Amway program over the internet. Erg.
They�ll forget what you said the moment they walk out the door, but if you said it right, they�ll remember what you meant.
This college thing is killin� me. No one here plays chess. No one is motivated to do totally nonsensical things. Most importantly, none of them get calculus jokes. This is essential to my way of living. They all act like they're in prison...wait. So am I. And I am enclosed by the bars of unimaginative people.
Crysta (aka �Angel�): Hi! Oh...I forgot your name...
Me: �Jason�...the guy with the cloves, eh?
Crysta: Oh, right...hey, you wouldn�t believe how late I stayed up the morning.
Me: *ponders* 3am.
Crysta: *agasp* wow, how�d you know?
Me: Must be an eighth sense. *uninterested*
Crysta: You mean, the sixth sense...
Na: Naa, that�s already taken.
Crysta: No, it must be the sixth sense, because there�s already five.
Me: *rolls eyes* I know there�s already five, but six is taken (the movie) and seventh is taken (business sense), so I have to default to the eighth...[the conversation continued, but she just couldn�t grasp this concept, and it was meant to be off-handedly funny...another pun fallen victim to a shallow inside-the-box mind].
There�s a dangerous game of telephone that the whole world is playing, and I haven�t paid my metaphorical phone bill in months. They accept third-hand information as if it was as good as reading the book for themselves. Information is modified through every mouth and every ear until it has nothing to do with anything. And this is what they call �knowledge�.
Took a drive into Boston last night. Saw some cool people, and hung out by the waterfront. People tried to tow Emily�s car, but they got all congenial when they saw Jessica bristle up. Just don�t mess with trench coats late at night by the water. Nikki took some black and white pictures while we drove through the city, but no one wanted to step out of the car to actually have some fun.
Newest Invention: Floating Eyeball Pens. You�ve all seen those Pilot Precise (TM) pens that have the little window so you can see the level of ink in otherwise ordinary rolling ball pen. Instead of being just two small windows, the whole midsection of the pen would be clear to allow you to see the ink inside. Inside the ink is a little weighted eyeball with an overall density less than the ink. Result: when you look at your pen, it looks back. For added fun, maybe the plastic that makes up the outer covering of the pen is elastic, so you can twist it around your finger and bend it and stuff.
Steve (suitemate): Hey James, can I bum a clove?
Me: *growls with his eyes* Jason.
Steve: Oh, sorry...right. Jason, can I bum a clove?
Me: Sorry, I just smoked my last one while I was in Boston this morning...gonna pick up some more this weekend...
It�s not really like Jason is a hard name to remember, and it�s on my door, for chocolate�s sakes.
Life is short, drive fast. But more importantly, make a difference when you get where you�re going [or your haste will be for naught].
Post Sanctum: Yes, I am quite aware that these last postings have been few, far-between, and plain dumb. It's like trying to make something out of dried Play-Dough (TM), I tell ya.
