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Shit's moving pretty farking fast these days. Like a banana flying through the Alps in the hollow neck of a decapitated chocalate Easter bunny.
Cortisone is a wonderful drug, I tell you. Remind me to slow down and desperately try and enjoy being unemployed and virally recovered.
Can you tell I'm back in school?
Interesting. In fact, I have a crapload of work to do. Got assigned one of the all time stupidest writing deals ever. Initially, I took it cause I thought it would be easy. I guess it's more of an informative piece, but the thing is that it's supposed to be informing... Umm, let's try a car analogy. Basically I'm explaining what gasoline is for. I'm gonna look really farking stupid. As if I don't already...
Sleep schedule normal!!! Congratulate me. Please send a paperback copy of Harold Bloom's new Shakespeare book. Thank you.
Anyway, school. The course is real interesting. Unfortunately, the Hairy Editor's in it. I swear, that motherfucker... First off, I simply ask him what room the class is in and in a bitchy whiney voice, he goes, "I don't fucking know." Excuse me? Are you fucking asking me to fucking pop you one already?
Then he's making a major annoyance of himself and this is when I went to hang out at my former workplace. Then he has the gall to go, "Aaron, what the fuck are you doing here anyway?" And me and Goatee are like, "Umm, what the fuck are you doing here?"
You know what? Should I just pop him already? Right in the fucking face. Actually, shit... He's getting me out of class next next next week. Fuck, and he's probably gonna feel all superior about out. I know! Next time he pisses me off, I'll just punch him in his sizable gut, then I'll pretend that I was just messing around and I accidently hit him too hard. "Oops! Sorry. Was just a joke!"
I decided $550 is way too much to charge for one class for a single graduate student so I'm going to share the course with all of you. Think about it. You're going to learn EVERYTHING contained in a certain graduate level English class. You too can get a degree in English, not that it will do you any good; or even make you a better person. It's kinda like those people who collect fonts. They're not gonna even come close to using em all in this lifetime, but still, they collect em. It'll be kinda like that.
Content is the general arena of concern within a story. Theme is the specific observation about a subject. Think about this as you read novels or short stories.
Two and a half hours compressed into three sentences. And that is what I'm paying for. To think, you got it all for free! A five hundred and fifty dollar value! Boggles the mind don't it?
I should go gym now.
3:32 pm
Dying, I tell ya. I was working on back and half-way through I realized that I was spending more time reading my homework than doing any actual lifting.
Anyway, been up to tons o shit and my brain is such a static-y, garble of mush and noise, that I can't remember a single lump of the shit that made up the afore-mentioned ton.
I put air in my tires.
I got a meeting with a contact about employment. Oooohh. I love using words like that. And I get to wear an aloha shirt in downtown. I'm more excited than a pre-schooler in Leonardo DiCaprio's hotel room. (Shit, that would've been the perfect opportunity for another banana simile.)
Waffling. Should be working on either Movie Review or third deal with the devil...
Strange. I'm not used to this daytime/normal human sleep schedule. It's so hot in the daytime. Throwing everything off.
5:04 pm
Procrastination.
Now I'm waiting for spaghetti water to boil.
Ho, major gossip. Xerox is going out with Darth's ex girlfriend. And of course, Darth doesn't know. The scary part is, Darth is kinda psycho about shit like that. And on top of that, he kinda wants to get back together with her; even though he's the one that broke up with her in the first place, but anyway...
I don't know. I mean, it's really too too bad cause I have a feeling (hint: sarcasm) that they aren't gonna be friends anymore, and they were friends for a really long time. The thing is though, Xerox was telling me all this shit from early on and it seems he's really really happy. I mean, LOVE-Happy™. "She met my parents. We had breakfast." I'm not even sure I even remember what that feeling was like, then again, I'm the biggest asshole in the world so I don't enjoy those types of feelings, but carrying on...
He was telling me this story about how cool she is and how they were at Blockbuster renting a movie and he was looking for change, and he asked her if she had change, and while she was looking, he found that he had the change and he gave the change to the cashier. But right then, she collected all her change and when she found out that she did it for nothing, she went, "Bitch! Why didn't you tell me?!"
And Xerox goes, "Man, she called me bitch! Ain't that cool?"
And I gotta admit, that's kinda cool.
So I guess, I don't know. I mean, on the one hand, that's just dangerous, bad, scary territory. You just don't do shit like that. But on the other hand, what if you actually meet someone who's just great and terrific and she's just totally the wrong person you should be checking out. But what if she's really great? What if she calls you "bitch!"?
I guess that's my big moral garlic-lozenge for the week.
The Astronaut's Wife really fucking sucked. Poor Charlize Theron. Not only does she look like Ashley Judd with no eyebrows and a bad Mia-Farrow-in-a-serious-drama haircut, but that girl always ends up not being sexually fulfilled. Keanu Reeves couldn't get her off in The Devil's Advocate and now Johnny Depp couldn't either. Every time she has sex, she's always looking off to the side. This is how Nicole Kidman should've looked in Eyes Wide Shut. In fact, even when she played that poly-amourous chick in Celebrity, she didn't get boinked either. The only satisfying cinematic opposite sex-relationship this poor girl has ever had was with the giant monkey in Mighty Joe Young.
