Day 19 (I think)
My sancutary is being overtaken by kids who don't want to stay home and watch their roomates copulate. All five floors of the library (there may be a sixth floor, I was too out of breath to reach) were full of undergrads studying, allegedly studying. I ran up and down the aisles looking for a carrel that wasn't next door to a snot-nosed kid. Finally I found one. I set down my belongings and looked at the walls, they were covered in pen marks. A normal individual would find such debasement a zit on the face of academia. Did I mention that I am not normal and find zits fascinating?
Anyway, the first things I noticed were the band names ranging from Slayer to Miles Davis. There was even a nice depiction of the graphic on Oasis's first album. Then, I noticed the sporadic quotation from Frost and the "I come here to get away from the world of chaos" type crap. I smiled at the hole in the wall with the precaution that looking through here (arrow) will allow you to see into another dimension. And then I saw it, "Van Girls-BITCHY" and, "American Broads-FAT". I didn't even look around before I wrote, "Fuck you, pig" next to that comment. I could hardly read my boring short story for class because I was thinking of the war the "American Broads" guy and I would have with our pens.
I wish the legal drinking age was 86. Just think what it would be like to try and find somebody that old that isn't in a wrinkle ranch and has enough balance to carry out a 24 pack without busting a hip. That would be a challenge. Drinking would be bad ass and maybe we'd all have a different take on old age; we'd all want to get old. And, it would cut down on the number of people making drunk choices that lead to babies (to old to reproduce), STD's (can't get it up anyhow), car crashes (driver's license taken away 10 years ago), accidently peeing yourself (no longer an embarassment thanks to mandated use of adult diapers after you turn 76), saying things you regret (they are old they are expected to say horrible things and get away with it).
After a roaring good time in class today where I trashed on another writer's skills I went home to start my own autobiographical writing assignment. I wrote a few lines and stopped. I re-read what I had written and imagined the onslaught of hateful comments that could be made about it. I imagined my fellow classmates reading my work, sighing, scratching their asses, and reading aloud to their friends and lovers parts that they consider horrible beyond belief. So, I have two options 1. work my ass off to write a good story or 2. write a list of the ways I could disguise the fact that I am a hack. Guess which I'll pick...
1. Wear a mask to school.
2. Don't turn anything in, ever.
3. Plagarize.
4. Make up fanciful excuses as to why I wasn't able to attend my workshopping day. (i.e. I was bitten by a rabid squirrel while I was saving an old lady from being eaten by an alligator)
5. Tell the whole class that I'm having "Female problems".
6. Never go back to class, ever.
7. Start saying gushy things about all my classmates writing so as to make them feel to mean to comment on my own writing.
8. Make up lies. (Hey, no one can prove if my work is non-fiction without following me around day and night)
9. Get arrested so I have something to write about.
10. Try to find a youtube video that teaches you how to write a good story.
11. Pretend that I don't speak English.
12. Pretend that I had amnesia.
13. Dive into the shallow end of the pool and hope for an injury bad enough to illicit sympathy.
14. Overdose on painkillers.
15. Apply for the witness protection program, get moved to Indiana and have my new name be, "Gertrude Swenson".
There must be many more ways to disguise oneself, if only I wasn't such a fat drunk ass hack I could think of them.
-Canadian Castaway
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