| ¤§ Diary of a Madman §¤ |
[01 May 2006|08:52am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 tired |
] |
Its funny, really, how most people fail to notice the natural beauty of nature. Perhaps they just do not have enough time in their busy day to do so, or perhaps they just do not care to slow down their busy pace. Sometimes I find it necessary to slow my own pace down by observing ants carrying bits of food, twice the size of themselves, halfway across the world, or staring at a flower and realizing just how vibrant it is.
You never fully notice just how pink a flower is until you stare at it long enough, making the clear blue sky an odd shade of pink when you finally look up. This is how I started one summer day, sitting on my friends back deck, starring at the pink sky, and wondering why I had never seen it like this before.
Deciding I had looked up enough, I shifted my head downwards. Looking through the smoke of my cigarette, as if it was the foliage of a dense jungle, my eyes focused on the little round table-for-two which I had forgotten I was sitting at. The table top was made up of little mosaic butterflies and dragonflies which began to breathe in a rhythmic pattern. I must have scared them with my gaze because they began to swirl into the center of the table, the tiles of the mosaic resembled lily pads caught in a whirlpool.
As if compelled by some unknown force, I stood up and entered my friend’s house, making my way to his room. The house was dark and quiet with the feeling of restriction that resembles a prison cell. I wanted to scream to break the silence but I refrained myself. Mike was found in his room, sitting on his futon playing a videogame. I entered without words and sat down next to him, trying to figure out what he was doing.
Before I could even figure out what was going on, I was captivated by the repetitious melody of whatever it was that he was immersed in. I listened to that music for what seemed like hours until I was standing at the edge of insanity, looking down at the sheer vastness of what lay before me. If I were to take one more step, I would surely fall off. I felt trapped now, more than ever, and had to escape my captive’s hold.
“Mike,” I said, “we’ve got to get the fuck out of here. This music is freaking me the fuck out. I can taste each note, and their either sour or bitter.”
“Brian, what are you talking about man?” he replied. “It’s just Zelda.”
We argued about the music for a little while longer, then decided to take a drive around the lake and enjoy the weather.
Leaving Mike’s house I paused for a moment and immediately threw on my sunglasses to protect myself from the party of colors that had now taken over the summer sky. I felt safe in those sunglasses, not just from the out of control colors, but from the gaze of strangers. It was a good thing too, because when we got to the town lake there were many strangers. Some were walking dogs, some walked by them. Now don’t get the wrong idea, the dogs were not holding leashes to collars lashed around humans, but it seemed to me, and still does, that dogs have nothing better to do than pull their so called masters around behind them, much like an adult would their own child by the hand.
Mike, tiring of the lake scene, thought we would have a better time at the nearby mall, and me in my strange state of mind agreed with him. The mall always makes a good time for people watching. I figured I would be able to blend right in with all the signs of sales that whisper “buy me buy me,” somewhere deep in your subconsciousness. Unfortunately for me I was still wearing my sunglasses. Wearing sunglasses in a mall is a poor way to look inconspicuous. I began feeling awkward when I noticed a large amount of children staring at me and an equally large amount of mothers grabbing their children, holding them close as they did so. It was either take off my safety specs, or leave the mall all together. I chose the latter; I thought it the better route. This choice also kept me from buying random junk based on how shiny it was.
We found our way to Mike’s 1987 Cadillac Deville, pulled out of the parking lot, and into rush hour traffic. Anyone ever stuck in traffic can tell you two things. First, it sucks ass, and second, it’s a great excuse to watch people doing things they think they are doing in private. Miles and miles of people picking their noses, rednecks drinking beers, and young professionals on their cell phones looking for their next score is what we saw. This was a particularly interesting occurrence due to the weather; everyone had their windows open, so you could actually listen to other people’s conversations, as well as initiate your own with the people next to you.
By the time we got back to Wakefield it was getting dark. Mike, I guess, had better things to do and dropped me off at my empty house. I traipsed down the hallway noticing how it seemed to bend in a spiral the further it went. It was something out of a 1920s German film. I couldn’t stand my house longer than the fifteen minutes I spent there. Everything about the indoors was eerie. I needed to get out.
“Fuck!”
I ventured off down the street and into the woods of my neighborhood. Walking slowly, I made my way to the big hill, the one we used to look at the stars from. Carefully I laid myself down and stared at the magic above. The sky is generally clear there and I try to uphold the same for my mind, taking in all the tranquil ambience of the scenery. The stars must have been having a conference, because they were all out in full force.
I lit a cigarette, and after taking a drag, exhaled a curtain of smoke. When the curtain rose, I saw the stars dancing all over the night’s sky. Truly magnificent is the heaven’s theatre.
After growing satisfied with contentment I traversed back home, thinking along the way how lucky I am, and how I’ll probably never get to experience another day like this in my entire life.
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| ¤§ just a thought §¤ |
[07 Apr 2006|01:14am] |
every five minutes, everything that a fish has ever experienced vanishes from its memory. imagine that every five minutes you, a human being, with complex brain structure, capable of feeling a vast range of emotions, suddenly and repeatedly, became stricken with a permenant case of amnesia.
i am not a fish. i remember most, if not all, significant events leading up to my current moment in life. so why is it that some people "forget" moments, or even a string of moments in their lives? it seems that these moments are selectively "forgotten" as to eveade the fulfillment of some obligation, or maybe they manipulate their own thoughts to self puruade the idea that they either do or do not belong to these actions.
i am not a fish. when i say something, i mean it. to think that a few days later i have forgotten or changed my mind is blasphemy. i remain solid in my groundings, like a tombstone set at a grave. though, even tombstones are prone to the elements, and the engraving, over time, can be washed away.
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| ¤§ ethan §¤ |
[25 Mar 2006|11:27pm] |
Ethan
(Based on the story of Ajax)
Everything seemed normal. The sun was a purple blob in the white sky. The trees reflected a bluish hue off their leaves. Ethan was lying on someone’s front lawn, baseball bat in hand, next to three dead children and a mess of letters from the mailboxes he was previously smashing. He was at peace with himself for the moment, and decided that he would fancy a walk. Picking himself up, he began to walk down the street using his bat as a cane.
By the time Madison found him, Ethan was back in his shitty apartment, clutching himself in the fetal-position on the couch. He was sobering up and finally coming to his senses.
“Ethan, where the hell have you been all day? I’ve been trying call you for hours.”
“I went for a walk. Ashley stopped by with some acid for me and I decided to take a stroll to take in the scenery, you know?”
“How does that explain all the blood on your clothes? What happened? Did you have a run in with that gang again?”
“No, but perhaps it would have been better if I did. Like I said, I was going for walk, but I took my bat with me. I was playing Basebox, you know? And that shit had started to peak. I saw these three mailboxes that were taunting me I think. I couldn’t really understand them, but I do know that mailboxes aren’t supposed to talk. So I shut ‘em up. I swung so hard to teach ‘em a lesson, but when I connected, it didn’t feel like a mailbox should. At the time I thought nothing of it, but now I think I realize what I’ve done.”
“And what exactly was it that you did Ethan?”
“I think I killed some kids actually.”
Madison stands up from her seat on the couch stricken with concern for her love.
“You what?! What are you going to do, what are we going to do?! You have to lay low, don’t leave your place for anything. I’ll call your brother, William will know what to do.”
Without saying another word Madison runs off to the kitchen to make the call. Left
to himself, Ethan takes a deep, drawn out breath, slowly stands up, and walks over to his makeshift bar. He fixes himself a stiff drink and plops back on the couch where he begins to think.
This is not the sort of thinking one does to determine what you may want to eat, for instance, or the type of thinking one does to decide what to wear for the day, but the type of thinking one undergoes when contemplating a serious matter or remembering better times. Ethan was in fact lost in memories of working at summer camps, and boys and girls clubs, how he had made all the kids so happy. Now, he had not only taken the life of a child, no different from any of the ones he had cared for, but three.
As Ethan dove deeper into remorse, Madison came walking back in.
“Will said he’d come right away. He should be here tomorrow morning. I’m going to go buy some food to cook for dinner. Are you going to be ok by yourself for an hour?”
“Yes.”
“Ok, lock the door and do not leave the apartment for any reason? Do you understand me?”
Ethan was completely silent and it was obvious that he was not exactly listening.
“Do you understand me,” Madison said again.
“Ya, ya. I understand already.”
And with that, Madison left, leaving Ethan with nothing but his conscience.
Ethan’s thoughts turned from the children to their parents and how they would react when they got back from work. A new form of sorrow set in.
“What the hell can I do? How can I ever make this right?”
It was after actually saying this out loud that Ethan knew what needed to be done to make amends. The question was, “how?”
“Not a bat, although somewhat fitting, to hard to accomplish myself. Maybe a knife? No that’s no good, it’d take to long.”
Then Ethan remembered the revolver he kept in his drawer for protection.
“That’ll have to do. Quick and sweet.”
When Madison got back, Ethan was passed out on the couch, an old episode of The Twilight Zone on the television. She began to prepare dinner. It was Ethan’s favorite, a simple steak and mashed potatoes. When it was ready, she gently woke him up. As they eat there little conversation, but Ethan’s head were full of thoughts. One being, “What a good meal to have as my last.”
The dishes were washed and Madison and Ethan climbed into bed. Tired from the day’s errands, Madison was out cold quickly leaving Ethan to stare at the ceiling. It was time. Ethan got out of bed, dressed himself, and grabbed his revolver. He walked to the scene of the accidental murders. The corpses were gone but blood was still visible under the light of the street lamps. Ethan knelt down on the same lawn he had earlier that day been laying on, put the gun to his temple, said a short prayer, and pulled the trigger.
William arrived at Ethan’s apartment early the next morning before Madison had woke and realized that he was missing.
“Where’s my brother?”
“I… I don’t know.”
“What the hell do you mean you don’t know?”
“Really I don’t know. He was with me last night when we went to bed. He must have snuck off in the middle of the night, or maybe he got up early to go to that diner he likes so much.”
They decided it was best to go searching for Ethan. What they found was taped off lawn with paramedics, police officers, and curious neighbors looking on. The car came to screeching halt.
“Oh my god, this where Ethan killed those kids. Tell me, can you see him? Is he out there? Is he alright?”
“I don’t know, I can’t see anything with that mob out there. I’ll go take a closer look.”
William made his way to the crowd and shouldered his way to the front. When he saw Ethan’s face he nearly collapsed.
William approaches an officer to find out what has happened.
“What’s going on here?”
“Some sicko shot himself, right where those three kids were murdered yesterday. We think it’s the guy who did it.”
”You’re right, he was my brother.”
Hearing this, the crowd becomes rowdy. Some people start to throw small rocks at William and even Ethan’s body.
“He was my brother and a good kid.”
“Good kid my ass. We should desecrate his body for what he’s done, and he would deserver no less.”
The crowd starts to cheer at these words.
“It’s not what it seems. Ethan bent over backwards for this community. He helped out wherever he could. Ya he fucked up, and it is a sad situation, I apologize for all of your loses, but for the love of God you should respect my brother’s body. There will be no desecration today, and my brother will receive a proper burial. I will see to that.”
William fetches Madison and they watch as Ethan’s lifeless body is strapped to the stretcher and put into the back of the ambulance. Together the get back in the car and follow the ambulance to the hospital.
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| ¤§ a bedtime story §¤ |
[31 Oct 2005|11:56pm] |
As he stairs into the mirror, he feels discomfort. His chair is becoming uncomfortable again. He stands up, stretches his legs, and readjusts himself again, making sure to distribute his weight properly on his seat.
“God I hate these shoes. I wish they were Velcro, I would have a much easier time getting them on in the morning if they were.”
He is looking into the mirror again, but it is not a mirror, it is his soul. The colors dance vibrantly as he inches closer and closer. He touches his reflection and his face begins to ripple and dance. Feeling discontent with his current situation, he again stands up, leaves his room and walks down the stairs with a total disregard for the weather.
It is now snowing outside and the earth is sterile and white. Lighting a cigarette, he lies down and begins to count the stars.
“One, two, five, oh there’s Orion’s Belt. How beautiful it looks tonight. I wish my belt was made out of stars. I would shine with such radiance that God himself would be taken back with how bright I illuminate the sky.”
He is still staring into the sky when a lady, possibly in her late forties walks by.
“Hey sonny, what are you looking at?”
“Nothing, what are you looking at?”
“I’m not exactly sure. What am I looking at?”
An awkward silence arises. The woman is still looking at him with a strange sense of sadness in her eyes, a sadness often seen by someone looking into the eyes of a street hardened junky, a lost soul who wanders the street night by night looking for some comfort or their next fix to help pass the cold harsh nights. Clutching her arm she draws nearer.
“Do you want to see something?”
“No not really.”
“No I insist. I have something really special to show you.”
“Really, I’m not interested.”
The woman becomes belligerent and loud and the old man who lives below the boy comes out to see what the ruckus is. He knows fully well what is about is going on and has seen it many times before. He opens his door forcefully with authority.
“Hey what the hell is goin’ on out here?”
“Nothing, I was just going to show him something.”
“Well we don’t wanna see nothing. You get out of here now, fast. Scat!”
The woman, slightly offended takes off, leaving the old man and the boy alone.
“You ok son?”
“Ya, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“Well that there was a lady you don’t wanna get involved with. She’s nothing but bad news, trust me. She’ll say she got something to show you, then before you know it you in heap full of trouble. Trust me, I know from experience.”
“Oh, thanks I guess. I generally try to keep to myself, but I don’t mind the occasional odd situation. It builds character.”
“Well, I don’t know nothing about character, but that there woman could changed your life for the worst. It’s best you don’t associate with them type”
“I guess I should thank you then, so thanks.”
“Eh, don’t worry about it. I’m leechin’ off your cable. Consider it payment for me lookin’ out for your sorry ass.”
“Uh, thanks?”
“Don’t mention it.”
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| ¤§wow started this at 4am and its done now at 7am and was supposed to be 1 page... oops§¤ |
[18 Oct 2005|07:20am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 WIRED!!! |
] |
Niccolò Machiavelli: The Cynical Dictator
Niccolò Machiavelli’s argument that if a ruler “succeeds in establishing and maintaining his authority, the means will always be judged honorable and approved by everyone,” is complete trash. When Machiavelli says “the means,” he is blatantly saying brute force, fear, and cunning. Not only has this method of control never lasted very long in the history of the world (a decade or two at the most), I truly believe it never will. It is also notable to point out that this treatise that Machiavelli wrote is really a cynical analysis of current and past political events preconceived on the notion that all human beings are born evil.
The reading starts off with Machiavelli saying how mercenaries and other countries’ armies are not a safe solution to a country’s defenses and should be removed and never relied on. This actually makes a great deal of sense. His reasoning is that mercenaries only fight for money and greed, they do their time, get paid, then turn around and fight for someone else, possibly against you. Mercenaries are not loyal to any cause other than riches. Auxiliary armies could put a country in a similar situation. One day they are fighting alongside of your own men, then the next they could be fighting you out of their own country’s best interest. In other words, if another country is solely defending your own land, what is stopping them from taking it from you themselves?
The sole requirement it seems to Machiavelli in regards to being a good leader is to be well trained in the art of war. One who fights with prowess, strength, and courage of lion, and the swift cunning of a fox will always triumph on the field of battle. This does two things for you. First it protects your subjects from harm, meaning more workers and resources. Second, it establishes a sense of power and authority amongst those subjects. Machiavelli proceeds further saying that love and fear are two opposites of human nature that cannot coexist. Thus it is far safer to be feared rather than loved.
Now, at a glance Machiavelli almost appears to be making a good point with all this. In the end, however, you are only forcing people out of fear for their lives, or their property, to respect you, and with respect always comes authority. If we look back in our own recent history we can find some leaders who rather fit this roll. The first one that comes to my mind is Adolf Hitler. Hitler first gained respect by cunningly giving an explanation that Germany was poor because all the Jews were hording away Germany’s money and such. The Jews, though, were not to blame for Germany’s plummet into poverty. After World War I had come to an end, most of Europe cashed in and raped Germany of its capital, claiming it as war debts. So Hitler lies, like the cunning fox he was, and eventually worms his way into power where he then strikes fear into both the hearts of his own subjects and his enemies to get his way and keep his power.
Now you tell me, is Machiavelli full of it, or was Hitler a sensitive man? If theses are some basic rules for all leaders to follow, than just shoot me now and get it over with because I would rather die for no cause, than the cause of some psychopathic,
power-hungry maniac. Machiavelli is firmly describing what a bad government should do in a very pessimistic way, based on the idea that all human beings are created evil and vulgar, which I fully cannot and will not believe. That whole idea hits too close to the Christian assertion of Original Sin. I genuinely believe that all human beings are born pure and innocent into their environments and are taught, or develop, their own social behaviors and moral standards based on that environment and then eventually their own life situations.
So getting back to the original statement that if a ruler “succeeds in establishing and maintaining his authority, the means will always be judged honorable and approved by everyone.” It is not impossible that everyone will approve a ruler that follows this treatise and deem him honorable, but based on the sheer number of people in a single country, I would think it extremely improbable. The means of acquiring and how one uses that authority solely dictates whether or not a leader is approved by their people and deemed honorable. Machiavelli’s treatise could work, but not well, and not for long.
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| ¤§ where is my mind? §¤ |
[09 May 2005|02:32pm] |
so long time no update! i have been insanely busy, and slightly procrastinative lately. id also like to apologize to everyone lately that i have sortof blown off. lets just say shit came up that needed to be dealt with.
anyways, ive been working on a few video projects lately, that, and writing. lots of writing. some music too, but thats temporarily put on hold till teh summer, so has work.
currently im writing a speech on negative effects of the fast food diet. man, that shit is disgusting, but what else is there to eat in a place like mine? well, i gotta get back to that now.
good luck to everyone with finals. one more week, stay strong and dont let the shit drag you donw.
DEATHCAB AND DECEMBERISTS - NYC CENTRAL PARK - AUGUST - 38$(after service charge)
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| ¤§ i should have expected that §¤ |
[11 Apr 2005|12:41pm] |
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mood |
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 mood goes here |
] |
chalk one more up for the bmo. it seems that when it comes to those "parties" he is never wrong. well atleast dennis is ok, and i did get to excrete bodily fluids infront of mikes door. SUCKER! thats what you get for letting people fornicate in your bathroom when i have to urinate!
in other news, im off the hook for that pub incident. hurrah.
time to go play more music.
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| ¤§ if you dont know me, then dont think for me... actually, just dont think for me at all §¤ |
[06 Apr 2005|09:30am] |
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mood |
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tired |
] |
eleven(11) reasons why i would never party in boston this weekend:
- id have to either a) find transportation home while incredibly drunk, or b) sleep over
- i dont enjoy hanging out with people 3 years and younger than myself (i find that either their brains do not yet work properly or they just plain dont use them
- everyone ever at every party i feel ive ever been to is fake and deceitful
- i intend on doing what i said earlier, because i need to be able to actually excute and follow through on more decisions
- every time i have gone before has either been lame, or really bad for my karma
- i dont party with people i do not conisder friends
- i dont party with people whom i consider extremely obnoxious and inconsiderate
- i just dont feel like explain why i like bands that people dont anymore, let alone even talking to boligerent people about music at all
- nate always seems to create some sort of drama there, and if not nate then someone else
- did i mention that its not usually a party, but a gigantic friendly gathering, yet?
- its always byob
i have more but i feel ive made my point. so dont think for me.
in other news, i am hungry and sleepy wednesday night keggers are now thursday night keggers.
im going to school court today, hope that goes well. death cab is producing a new album in hopefully seems to be the near future. and, oh shit, i gots a midterm tommarrow... yay.
"you wouldnt bring your own beer to a bar would you?"
"no, but this is a pub... a really shitty school pub."
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| ¤§ bored and border...er §¤ |
[05 Apr 2005|01:47pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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Caffienated |
] |
so about to go to class, and i thinkim going to melrose today, maybe ill stop by the wakefield to see whats going down, and return later tonight, depends on when we are going to check out the studio i guess.
blah blah blah
soooooooooo ya, i figured i should post.
OH YA! for all you that know i have a student affairs judicial meeting tommarow at 6pm. which reminds me actually, i should probably talk to andy and figure out what our story is. well wish me luck on that.
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| ¤§ in conclusion to the previous post §¤ |
[23 Mar 2005|07:08pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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 still productive |
] |
I Understand Now
It seems that throughout my entire life, guys were always jerks to each other, and girls traveled in herds. I never thought that there would actually be an explanation other than, “those guys are assholes” or “those girls are so stuck up” to explain this phenomenon. I understood that males are always trying to out do each other or show who is boss in a conflict, but not why they did this. I always assumed that they were more primitive and instinctual. I also thought that females stuck together because there was safety in numbers.
Everyone somewhat knows that males and females think differently but I personally did not know why. It had never occurred to me that men think or would like to think that they are independent. This sense of independency is very important to them. They give each other fake status or a real (job) status which classifies them as upper or lower class. I mean this in regards to superiority. Man’s independence leads to superiority.
Women tend to think and interact based more on connection and intimacy rather than independence or status. Though women do subconsciously, or even consciously, act in independent manners. They do this as sort of a sub-product of their connections. For example the girls who are always seen walking together, usually the popular ones act more intimate around one another than males do. However girls sometimes make connections to raise their own status.
Men have a tendency to challenge each other more than our women counterparts do. This was made apparent during our game exercise in class. The majority of the males’ games had a set winner, which means there are many losers. The females’ games on the other hand created games where everyone is a winner to which the basis is just to have fun. In direct comparison, the males’ games are far more competitive than the female’s games.
just so you know, we had an inclass exercise were six groups of kids (3 groups of 4 girls and 3 of 4 boys)created a game to play.
Men and women often misread each other because one member of one sex says something which is interpreted completely differently than what the member of the other sex means. This again involves males thinking independently while females are thinking more intimately. Men generally dislike being told to do something because it makes them feel childish, or below the person giving orders, be it male or female. Females however “suggest” things to do. In this situation, the ordering female is not perceived as being “bossy,” but an active participant with her connections. After all who would suggest something else and hurt her feelings.
Men sometimes come off as being emotionless. I feel that having strong emotions has a negative connotation in society today. This causes most men to hide their emotions. It reminds me of a popular saying back in elementary school, “Boys don’t cry.” To shed a tear or act out any other emotion other than rage it seems, led to names like sissy and the such. In this manner other children would feel superior to one another. I feel that children today have the idea of independence reinforced all the time, and what better way to show off your superiority than competitive sports.
To build better communication between genders is a simple yet difficult thing. It is an easy task to say you understand, without fully understanding what a member of the opposite sex says, or rather, how it is said. To truly understand what is being said and how it is to be taken, one has to understand the opposite sex’s mentality. Men should understand that women think about intimacy and closeness over status. In a marriage, they generally want to do what is best for the family, and will be willing to discuss matters that involve the whole family with the family, rather than to make a decision on the spot to maintain independence. Men tend to make decisions first and let their spouse know later in response to a challenge of their independence.
To realistically build better communication, one must understand these ideas. Then all you have to do is listen, think, and act.
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| ¤§ ITS SO DAMN WARM OUT TODAY! §¤ |
[22 Mar 2005|12:57pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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hyper |
] |
...maybe thats what is making my brain function again. got up deccently early today and wrote a critique for speech class finally. maybe some panera bread for dinner tonight... mmmmmm bread...
it feels good to do work instead of just doping around and doing nothing good. i think i will go play some guitar, grab some food, print that paper and high tail it to class. !
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| ¤§ no more breaks §¤ |
[21 Mar 2005|10:28am] |
| [ |
mood |
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 awake... finally |
] |
spring is here, no more breaks. my last one is over. i had a pretty good time. so my first night back was exciting. i got to clean up a mess of a living room, and nicks brother got arrested. i seriously hope the coppers dont come snooping at my house. that would be most aggrivating. i also dont quite feel like getting arrested myself based on negligence. if you wanna know the whole situation about that, ask me in person. it is too sketchy for the internet.
yay for music!
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| ¤§ wakefield is dead to me.... sorry fred §¤ |
[26 Feb 2005|09:06pm] |
| [ |
mood |
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depressed |
] |
sooo forget about wakefield. most of my friends there just dont quite qualify as more than aquitances now.
Every sick, fickle fucker
Childhood's what makes ya
Till they treat ya like tundra
Weigh those opinions
More like air than lead
Every planned occupation
Surefire disappointment up ahead
Till they treat ya like desert
See mirages of friendship, face turns red
Here's the soon to be anchor
Build bridges to nothing, you'll get nowhere
Every governor's mother knows
That their bread is buttered by Sam
And what about science?
they find proof and let you make your own decisions
Every childstar wonders
If they have a future up ahead
Every kindhearted banker
I don't think there is one
Every winning opinion
Stand on platforms in water
Filling jars full of silence you'll get nowhere
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| ¤§ last minute post before class §¤ |
[17 Feb 2005|10:40am] |
in conclusion to wednesday keggers, nicks theoretical idea actually worked. we sold cups and we did a door charge. sooooooooo it all worked out. im really glad i didnt have to leave cause i woulda if i felt i had to.
its funny who if you just yell terrible things in return to them yelling at you, you can solve your problems over a beer. thats pretty sweet.
anyways, time to go print a paper for the class i chose not to skip today.
damn, i really wanted one of those sparkle pencils.
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