we written a poem
2001-10-21 - 11:30 a.m.
cannibal blinking eyes
first so tight
open like fear
closing so tight
to bite off your ear
For the past few days, every time I�ve gone to the bathroom in my suite, there�s a butt already in the toilet. The butts have been getting progressively longer...I�m just waiting for someone to throw a whole one in the bowl.
Sunday. Woke up on the wrong side of the morning...almost into the noon. This has something to do with straight vodka and 12-year-old wisky from Pablo (an extension of �the true blue friends� group, as I�ve called them). So I wake up, and there�s little kids on the other side of the suite. Siblings of someone who goes here I�m sure, but I couldn�t help but think of them as babysitters for the drunken football players. They�d get along fine, and take their mid-day nap...the only problem they would encounter would be telling the football players that they can�t watch scrabble-porn.
Everyone talks about homophobics like they have the plague. Stand too close to �em, and you might use a prejudiced word like �fag�. This is, of course, akin to the use of the word �nigger�...every person with really dark skin will tell you that niggers exist...they�re a subculture of assholes (if they were white, we�d just call them fuckheads). So I�m sure that there�s a definite difference between �fag�s and typical gays. But I digress from my point, which is that you never hear anyone talk about homophillics. The people that for whatever reason, prefer to hang around not-so-straight people. At a certain time of the month, the girls really go for those sensitive guys, and there�s something about being unavailable that really seems to attract them as well.
Friday. I haven�t been working this week because Don (head pooter techie) is in Florida. I spent the time of my first class in bed, even though I woke up in plenty of time to shower and go to it. Got out of my second class early, and made plans to go with Nikki and a drunken Dave (the magician) to a comedy club. During the last act, Jessica and I considered hiding out behind the bathroom door and �asking� people for money. The plan was to give them back their money and tell the pansies to stick up for themselves more often. �Course, I didn�t follow through with it because I�m a pansy; everyone else ate at Subway and then we went back. I do believe, dear Archibald, that the best part of the whole night was running to catch the T on time.
The following is from Rose�s diary: �Funny how you look at someone, and suddenly it's like you're seeing them for the first time, and either you realize just how beautiful they really are, or you realize just how pathetic they really are.� And I just wanted to say how glad I was that she�s realized this. Not that you can really learn what we�re talking about unless you�ve lived it...life, true life, can�t be found between the covers of a book or the lyrics of a song.
Saturday, about teatime. Mad-day crisis. My day consisted of attempting to buy clove cigarettes (I looked too young and my school ID doesn�t have my age on it) and waiting for Chinese food which I didn�t end up eating. There was nothing else. After teatime, there just didn�t seem to be enough hours left in the day to get something done, so the rest of the day was wasted.
Sir#1: Sir, you look fazed.
Sir#2: Not in the least...to the contrary, I seem to be all fazed-out for one day. Dazed, one might say.
Sir#1: *chuckles* If one were to follow your linguistic patterns backward, they might say that you are crazed
Sir#2: Of course, my good Sir...but that is partly to do with my being blazed.
Sir#1: Blazed? I was not aware that you had been drinking again.
Sir#2: I just couldn�t resist the wisky...I�m amazed that I drank it, nonetheless.
Sir#1: Amazed? One could hardly deny that such an amazed Sir was fazed at the same time. *smiles*
