unshaved eyebrows like unthawed ice
2002-04-23 - 2:55 a.m.
I love that, how a person can breathe, and breathe, and breathe, and breathe, and breathe, and never in a lifetime be able to breathe in the whole of even a single day.
They says you�d be surprised, the lies that the human brain can convince itself are truths.
No one can tell you how to write better...it just isn�t something ears are capable of. It�s something you can only learn through your eyes, by reading, and having the put-it-all-together-ness to make it better. However, exercises in writing may help someone develop the skill, the thought-jargon that it takes to write. For about eight years, I�ve been creating and testing writing exercises, in case I ever woke up one day and found out that I was the creative writing teacher at Harvard. Maybe sometime I�ll post �em...Sunday Comix sorta stuff [making reference to this because I gave one of them to Meghan, to help her analyze a poem].
No one can tell you how to write better...it just isn�t something ears are capable of. It�s something you can only learn through your eyes, by reading, and having the mental 'umph' to make it better.
On the learned helplessness �phenomenon�: �If something seems is too good to be true, it probably is [so don�t try it].�
Cult Minion: *walking potential minion down stairs* Look, anything you want, take it. Anything you wanna do, do it, yak no wha� I�m sayin�?
Potential Minion, *looking around* You got any coke?
Cult Minion: *gets tossed two bottles from offstage* Classic, or Cherry? *wink*
Bought 16 litres at the store down here. I never knew that I didn�t remember what cherry tasted like...hits like a batteringram, when you take it by the mouthful...just sit there, post-orgasm-like, unable to do anything but open-mouth smile and drool.
Skipped five classes in the last three weeks. Too much. Probably too much weed, too much drinkin�. And procrastination to boot.
Can�t believe I didn�t post this when it happened (it should have been the entry in which I went to RPI)...Mitch�s friend Faria and I hung out in the Bangor mall for a short time while the others were in the arcade (I was kicked out of the arcade for possession of coke). We almost got arrested for dancing. Shot old guys from the external windowsill of Ruby Tuesdays with green army men, and one shot back. She gets kilopoints for being fun. After the mall, we hit a Chinese restaurant, me Mitch, Dillon, Zach, and Faria...there was pouring of boneless sparerib juices into my mouth, and a spell of sickness afterward. I rode in the trunk while Zach drove over signs, and Mitch got his car stuck in fifth gear, learning how to drive standard while I was attempting to climb a building. Not sure what order any of this happened. But we never did break into the big yellow house. Somewhere in there, I realized how much like Dillon I�ve become...and maybe he was always a little more odd and a little more human then I had originally given him credit for. Of course, this connection by no means implies that we shook hands in saying goodbye (which, oddly, is respectable in its own respect).
Driver�s Test, take 2: This seems like an old thing too. I should have done the whole thing in neutral, just pushed my way through the intersections. At one point, I �crawled� through a red light, one that was about to turn green, while turning right. Didn�t come to a full And complete stop, just a full one. Didn�t look over my shoulder on one-way street because there was no line to tell me there was two lanes...but I didn�t hit that guy with the white cane, so I should get some credit, right?
Bus station pickup line: so, what�s on your luggage tag? (note: not to be used in any area where luggage may be an insinuation for anything other than bags of clothes for travel.)
Project Evac-the-Shotvac (to get out of Mount Ida) has been put off permanently, while I prepare for Project Wavelength...was thinking about going to two schools down here, rather than go to Troy (or UMO), and have changed to thinking that I should just stay here and take over the radio station. No FCC regulations...that�s all I have to say.
Dyani. Like the Coca-Cola-brand water, without the S. Showed me her tits tonight, because she "just had to". Gave me a little disclaimer beforehand about black girl�s tits, and how they may differ from �normal tits� before the hand. "Now I�ve showed you my tits, we have to have sex...that�s how it works." Rain check. Cute girl tho...be better if she wasn�t stoned 24/7.
Oh yea, and at some point, it was my birthday. The hospital has records for the night of the 16th, and the town says it was the morning of the 17th...Things I didn�t know until recently. Becca reminded me about it, otherwise I would�ve gone the whole day in ignorance of my own time-based-growth-measurement holiday. Today, I gots presents from my family...a 6-sided Hawaiian die, chessboard, and a video game. But more importantly, at least one card that said exactly what it should have said.
