"School Days, School Days Pt.1
After my internment and closing of the coffin lid-I closed my eyes and slept, letting the chirp of jumping insects and creep of the crawling creatures lull me to sleep. Really, this is not a hopelessly lost Anne Rice tale-no way!
Sweets, start up the third grade piano and sing with me, the olde kiddie great!
"School days, school days,Dear old golden rule days,Readin' and ritin and rithmetic, Taught to the tune of a hick'ry stick, You were my queen in calico,I was your bashful barefoot beau,And you wrote on my slate,'I love you, Joe, When we were a couple of kids."
Yes, I started school regarding my up and very coming MFA in Creative Writing.I will not argue with fact that I was not at my most sparkling,appearence wise. Imagine, having an eradic sleep the night prior to my flight. Yes, Avery is an offical jet setter. Hardly darlings, I dare say free peanuts, a soda water and a copy of skyway magazine barely scratch the social radar. Though I am hardly in league with those types, but I am in a jet 4 times a month, attending class two weekends a month.
Time was 9:30am I ran up the stairs at Civic Center, hailed a cab and ran into my hotel room. Thru my luggage on the floor, and jumped back into the still waiting cab. Dashed into the Valencia Street Cultural Room. I was in huff, late, unshaven and dressed shabbly. The entire room was filled with the what I have come to expect of New College, the social deviant and creativly mad artist, of course I belonged here. The room broke in brief reads of their work and being me, I left everything at home. My first reaction, this program is very unorganized, I was not aware about this read? Then again everyone else came with pieces so perhaps I was this year's dizzying fruit from Wonderland. And to make matters worse, I was wearing such lax clothing.
Orientation, I came to think this is hardly challenging? Community College worthy, no high school at its most. Complete with a stoned, tan youth speaking in street speech, a aggro feminist, a few of the "LETS CHALLENGE GOVERNMENT BUT I WANNA SUV" types here and of course the "I'M SOCIALLY MISUNDERSTOOD,A YEARING ARTIST,WAH WAH. Kidlets, Avery thought lets not have any in our cohort. And so it came lunch broke the following day, a ratherbrash chickie was airing, how Virginia Woolf was bougie upper class writer. I was irked immediatly, so if you have money, style and health it renders you into Paris Hilton. Pish! I boomed in and then she retorts, "Oh thats what I thought until I read her but after I appreciated her." The cogs in my mind spun about, maybe there is more to this program if some prefabricated individual can think differently then perhaps so could I?
Enough said...My first session was beginning the next day...Stay Tuned!
Sweets, start up the third grade piano and sing with me, the olde kiddie great!
"School days, school days,Dear old golden rule days,Readin' and ritin and rithmetic, Taught to the tune of a hick'ry stick, You were my queen in calico,I was your bashful barefoot beau,And you wrote on my slate,'I love you, Joe, When we were a couple of kids."
Yes, I started school regarding my up and very coming MFA in Creative Writing.I will not argue with fact that I was not at my most sparkling,appearence wise. Imagine, having an eradic sleep the night prior to my flight. Yes, Avery is an offical jet setter. Hardly darlings, I dare say free peanuts, a soda water and a copy of skyway magazine barely scratch the social radar. Though I am hardly in league with those types, but I am in a jet 4 times a month, attending class two weekends a month.
Time was 9:30am I ran up the stairs at Civic Center, hailed a cab and ran into my hotel room. Thru my luggage on the floor, and jumped back into the still waiting cab. Dashed into the Valencia Street Cultural Room. I was in huff, late, unshaven and dressed shabbly. The entire room was filled with the what I have come to expect of New College, the social deviant and creativly mad artist, of course I belonged here. The room broke in brief reads of their work and being me, I left everything at home. My first reaction, this program is very unorganized, I was not aware about this read? Then again everyone else came with pieces so perhaps I was this year's dizzying fruit from Wonderland. And to make matters worse, I was wearing such lax clothing.
Orientation, I came to think this is hardly challenging? Community College worthy, no high school at its most. Complete with a stoned, tan youth speaking in street speech, a aggro feminist, a few of the "LETS CHALLENGE GOVERNMENT BUT I WANNA SUV" types here and of course the "I'M SOCIALLY MISUNDERSTOOD,A YEARING ARTIST,WAH WAH. Kidlets, Avery thought lets not have any in our cohort. And so it came lunch broke the following day, a ratherbrash chickie was airing, how Virginia Woolf was bougie upper class writer. I was irked immediatly, so if you have money, style and health it renders you into Paris Hilton. Pish! I boomed in and then she retorts, "Oh thats what I thought until I read her but after I appreciated her." The cogs in my mind spun about, maybe there is more to this program if some prefabricated individual can think differently then perhaps so could I?
Enough said...My first session was beginning the next day...Stay Tuned!