It’s that time of year again. Instead of going to school, I think I’ll just sit at home and drink beer. If I drink enough I could get my own little beer baby and impress all the ladies with it.
You’d like that wouldn’t you ladies? Wouldn’t you?
Let’s review last year! Eh. Let’s just do this week. Two tests, one in sociology, one in American Politics. Both intro classes (I’m sweeping up some core credits). Didn’t study for either, passed both. My “advanced” creative writing workshop workshopped a piece I had written. I find it funny that I’m almost always able to predict what people will find wrong with a piece well before they tell me.
A general rule of thumb is if you’re unsure about what a piece of writing does then others will be unsure too. I’m very much a propionate of the rewrite and firmly believe that stories, particularly short stories are really born out of rewriting them many, many times. Actually, I think that of every piece of writing and I think that anybody who doesn’t at least edit their work is fooling only themselves.
There’s a dead roadrunner I see on my way to the bus stop everyday. I’m not exactly sure what killed it. Usually when you see a dead animal by the side of the road it means it was hit by a car, but there isn’t a mark on this fellow. Maybe it died of a plague. There is certainly something a bit disturbing as seeing a dead state bird. Roadrunners function as a symbol of my home state. If I were a superstitious man I’d say it was a bad omen. But I’m not and it only makes me sad. Poor bastard. Or gal. It’s hard to tell.
Every once in a while the bus’s scrolling marquee will get fucked up and instead of saying that it is April, 14th 2010 or some other boring date it will say it’s April 14th 2095. But I suppose 2010 is still a futuristic date. I know because the bus talks, announcing the streets as it approaches them. So now you know. We have talking buses in the future.
Anyway, that’s all for now. I have some real nodes to writeup.
Birthday past \ / Birthday future