Reparations

Today I fell for a practical joke. As I was walking into the dining hall, I noticed a one dollar bill sitting nicely in front of the door, beckoning me towards it. Like anybody, I was compelled to pick it up. Little did I know that it was attached a to fishing line, where some kid was hiding behind a bush only ten feet away preying on my ever move. Instantaneously, the dollar bill was shanked away from me. Worse off, everybody in the parking lot surrounding the entrance was apparently watching my inevitable demise. Everybody laughed. Myself included. Well I tried to laugh it off, but I couldn't help but feel really fucking stupid.

Yesterday I had the chance to hang out with my old roommate Pookie. His name is really Chris Lowe, but he became Pookie on this campus. He's a pretty big dude and he was notorious for chugging vodka like water and caravaning around campus in his Pope outfit. It was hilarious. Theres also a video of him somehwere eating a pack of clove cigarrettes. In our old room, he also made a nicely stacked wall of Dr. Pepper soda cans. It literally went from the floor up to the ceiling. I think after a while, he actually started to glue them to the wall to keep the whole thing from crashing down. Well eventually in a drunken haze, Pookie came crashing through the door one night and straight into the wall of soda cans. And just like that, the months of delicately placed cans cam crashing down in a shower of aluminum and bits of glue. Its all I think of when I think of Pookie. So yesterday we hung out with Nick Korda in the outing club room for hours just shooting the shit. It felt good to talk with an old friend and not have any worries for once. I guess his new band is doing really well and they're trying to get signed. I hope they do, because I know Pookie would prefer to not work in that shitty supermarket as much as he does.

I also had my last radio show ever as a student this past Sunday. I don't know why I didn't mentio it in an earlier post. I'm going to miss WIUV. I said some pretty vulgar and colorful things on air. I wonder if the FCC will ever truly know. I also played lots of annoying music that would definitely piss off all the boneheaded frat boys on campus and their airhead counterparts with orange-tanned skin and fake blonde hair. Seriously girls. Its not attractive to look like an oompa loompa. Its fucking fake and it ruins your personality, as if you had one anyways. Anyways, the radio shows are over. I'm going to miss stealing shit from that place.

I have to go talk about my final paper in a hald hour. The paper was for a class called "Three Auteurs," where we analyzed films by Alfred Hitchcock, Robert Altman and Stanley Kubrick. The Kubrick films were especially a treat. Those never get old. I wrote my final paper on Kubrick's "2001: A Space Odyssey." For some reason, we didn't watch that one in class (I think it has something to do with being nearly three hours long). Anyways, I got about eight pages on that sucker. I hope Professor Vestrich liked it. I liked writing it.

It doesn't seem like a lot of my friends are into reading blogs or my blog for that matter, with the exception of Jess. She seems rather faithful so far to reading it. Hopefully I can get some family members interested. Maybe I should start writing about them more. That would garner some interest.

I'm seriously becomig obcessed with 88 Fingers Louie. Its a shame they broke up. I seem to just get into bands after they've already broken up. Its the story of my life.

Well I got to go print out my paper on "2001."