The Sound And The Fury
Just returned from WRFL. At six in the morning there are places I would rather be. I hope my ennui has not affected the quality of my programming.
I learned a week ago about my having been accepted into Yale. Neat, right? Mother's in a frenzy organizing a trip to New Haven. Unfortunately, the most feasible dates overlap with my English teacher Mr. Liimatta's pet class trip. Ostensibly, it is a journey to the hometown of William Faulkner coinciding with our reading The Sound And The Fury. It is more honestly an excuse for him to visit Graceland. But I have great love for him, so what could be the harm?
Erin, Catherine, and I went to see Scissor Sisters at The Dame last Thursday. Or rather, the three of us stood outside stealing strained glimpses at the group through a throng of detached thirty-somethings that littered the club. We had been far too proud to procure fake IDs; however, the unscrupulous Bailey Scott had jumped at the opportunity. Our envy was caustic. But our frostbitten defeat was not in vain; the three of us ravenously stalked the tour bus after the show and were able to meet the band. A drunken woman vouched for our tenacity and rebuked one Del Marquis (These kids here have been standing outside in the cold for five hours, and you did nothing!). We blushed, but it might've been the cold.
I learned a week ago about my having been accepted into Yale. Neat, right? Mother's in a frenzy organizing a trip to New Haven. Unfortunately, the most feasible dates overlap with my English teacher Mr. Liimatta's pet class trip. Ostensibly, it is a journey to the hometown of William Faulkner coinciding with our reading The Sound And The Fury. It is more honestly an excuse for him to visit Graceland. But I have great love for him, so what could be the harm?
Erin, Catherine, and I went to see Scissor Sisters at The Dame last Thursday. Or rather, the three of us stood outside stealing strained glimpses at the group through a throng of detached thirty-somethings that littered the club. We had been far too proud to procure fake IDs; however, the unscrupulous Bailey Scott had jumped at the opportunity. Our envy was caustic. But our frostbitten defeat was not in vain; the three of us ravenously stalked the tour bus after the show and were able to meet the band. A drunken woman vouched for our tenacity and rebuked one Del Marquis (These kids here have been standing outside in the cold for five hours, and you did nothing!). We blushed, but it might've been the cold.