Seriously, what the fuck Gallagher?
Queen's lyrics have never sounded more like the truth. And now for something completely different!
I wrote this paper in high school for a creative writing assignment. The teacher was furious at me because of the ending but he gave me an A anyway. Instead of writing a real entry, I think I want to post this story just because I can.
Lighting Up
Now, you must understand that what I am telling you is in the strictest confidence. I can only hope that what I say here will not affect you in any way and will not change the current relationship we have. I like the way things are and if I could hold back time with my teeth, I’d do so. I would literally grab onto the impossible physical manifestation and put it in a Full Nelson, pinning it and freezing the moment until my muscles tire… Oh. That is something else I would need to do: Get the physical endurance to hold onto something forever.
But I digress… I have strayed too far from what needs to be said, which is serious, unlike what I normally attempt to communicate. I started doing it years ago, when I was only twelve, first overcoming my fear and then my addiction reached a point where if I didn’t go off every day, I would start shaking. I fondly remember the horrible nights I spent with friends in a car, parked out in the middle of nowhere, the windows fogged up and insane giggles being released every so often. I would be dropped off at home, completely unaware of where I am and I would go straight to my room, avoiding my parents. If my parents had known I had started that early… I shudder to think of the consequences. …I still don’t think they know I’ve done it in the first place.
There is one specific moment I can remember, down in my friend Matt’s basement. His parents were gone, which gave us the perfect opportunity. I always burned my fingers trying to spark the cheap-o Bic lighter… I was so inexperienced then… On this night, however, Matt got extremely messed up. It was one in the morning and he knocked over the cans around him, spouting off curse words like they were penny-candy. He began to cry and laugh at the same time, which frightened me… This was my first encounter with a person not being able to handle it. He started pounding his fist on the basement floor, which only had a very thin layer of shag carpet. Every time he lifted his fist, I can remember noticing a bruise forming bigger and bigger. I sat there, stupefied, helpless, and shaking like a rag doll. However, we got lucky and the smoke alarm went off because of the constant smoke being produced. We ran outside, onto the fresh morning dew and, of all things, began to laugh hysterically.
I once got extremely bold and tried doing it at school, but the groundskeeper caught me. …And I swear to you, I am not lying. The man then took the lighter from me and joined me. I will never forget Charlie. About ten minutes later, he told me not to do it on school grounds anymore, otherwise he would not be so nice next time. Since then, I learned to do it in moderation. If I went off lighting without some kind of protection or security measure, I was bound to come to a screeching halt. Not everyone is as cool as Charlie is.
Then came New Years Eve of 2003. My parents went to a teacher party they always do and I was home alone again. …I desperately desired to be with my girlfriend, but I could not. Instead, I found solace again in “communing with nature.” A long story short, I sneezed when I lit a match and dropped it on the rug. I was so crazed at the moment, I didn’t notice it was starting to catch fire. I quickly put it out with my shoe and I began to panic. My creativity set in and I turned the rug so that the burnt corner was under the couch. It still looks normal, for the rug was symmetrical. I remember laughing hysterically when my parents came back and asked what the smell was… I told them I had been baking, which, in a sense, I was.
From all of my experience, I have come to realize that not only does it help me relax; blazing boosts my mental capacity, rather than slowing it. My creative writings I have made are all done while I was laughing and when I feel like I am in Nirvana. The only thing that it hinders for me is long term projects, such as essays or studying for tests. I remember I once lit a part of my One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest on fire when I was doing it… Despite what people believe or say about it, it makes me happy. Shouldn’t that be good enough for the world?
I thought I’d share this with you. …There are very few people out there that know how much I love to light my farts on fire.
I wrote this paper in high school for a creative writing assignment. The teacher was furious at me because of the ending but he gave me an A anyway. Instead of writing a real entry, I think I want to post this story just because I can.
Lighting Up
Now, you must understand that what I am telling you is in the strictest confidence. I can only hope that what I say here will not affect you in any way and will not change the current relationship we have. I like the way things are and if I could hold back time with my teeth, I’d do so. I would literally grab onto the impossible physical manifestation and put it in a Full Nelson, pinning it and freezing the moment until my muscles tire… Oh. That is something else I would need to do: Get the physical endurance to hold onto something forever.
But I digress… I have strayed too far from what needs to be said, which is serious, unlike what I normally attempt to communicate. I started doing it years ago, when I was only twelve, first overcoming my fear and then my addiction reached a point where if I didn’t go off every day, I would start shaking. I fondly remember the horrible nights I spent with friends in a car, parked out in the middle of nowhere, the windows fogged up and insane giggles being released every so often. I would be dropped off at home, completely unaware of where I am and I would go straight to my room, avoiding my parents. If my parents had known I had started that early… I shudder to think of the consequences. …I still don’t think they know I’ve done it in the first place.
There is one specific moment I can remember, down in my friend Matt’s basement. His parents were gone, which gave us the perfect opportunity. I always burned my fingers trying to spark the cheap-o Bic lighter… I was so inexperienced then… On this night, however, Matt got extremely messed up. It was one in the morning and he knocked over the cans around him, spouting off curse words like they were penny-candy. He began to cry and laugh at the same time, which frightened me… This was my first encounter with a person not being able to handle it. He started pounding his fist on the basement floor, which only had a very thin layer of shag carpet. Every time he lifted his fist, I can remember noticing a bruise forming bigger and bigger. I sat there, stupefied, helpless, and shaking like a rag doll. However, we got lucky and the smoke alarm went off because of the constant smoke being produced. We ran outside, onto the fresh morning dew and, of all things, began to laugh hysterically.
I once got extremely bold and tried doing it at school, but the groundskeeper caught me. …And I swear to you, I am not lying. The man then took the lighter from me and joined me. I will never forget Charlie. About ten minutes later, he told me not to do it on school grounds anymore, otherwise he would not be so nice next time. Since then, I learned to do it in moderation. If I went off lighting without some kind of protection or security measure, I was bound to come to a screeching halt. Not everyone is as cool as Charlie is.
Then came New Years Eve of 2003. My parents went to a teacher party they always do and I was home alone again. …I desperately desired to be with my girlfriend, but I could not. Instead, I found solace again in “communing with nature.” A long story short, I sneezed when I lit a match and dropped it on the rug. I was so crazed at the moment, I didn’t notice it was starting to catch fire. I quickly put it out with my shoe and I began to panic. My creativity set in and I turned the rug so that the burnt corner was under the couch. It still looks normal, for the rug was symmetrical. I remember laughing hysterically when my parents came back and asked what the smell was… I told them I had been baking, which, in a sense, I was.
From all of my experience, I have come to realize that not only does it help me relax; blazing boosts my mental capacity, rather than slowing it. My creative writings I have made are all done while I was laughing and when I feel like I am in Nirvana. The only thing that it hinders for me is long term projects, such as essays or studying for tests. I remember I once lit a part of my One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest on fire when I was doing it… Despite what people believe or say about it, it makes me happy. Shouldn’t that be good enough for the world?
I thought I’d share this with you. …There are very few people out there that know how much I love to light my farts on fire.