(no subject)
2:51 am:
I walk into the dark kitchen and am pleasantly surprised by the refreshing breeze pouring inside from between our italian blinds. Outside the kitchen window, the architectural whirlwind of poured concrete walls, columns, and planters, emanating heat after their daily charge, slowly mold circular funnel clouds in our atrium--gentle enough to send shivers through the predictable palm landscaping, and divinely gracious enough to impart the kitchen with some air circulation after a sticky, sluggish, and scorching Saturday.
I close my eyes and slowly begin to absorb the fleeting, heavily perfumed aroma of the hot Atrium. Unconsciously, I find my organism gluttonously and excitedly pull in a long, deep breath, hoping to capture the fleetingly elegant perfume pouring into my otherwise carelessly maintained co-ed apartment, with its typical standing odor of dingy linen, musky men, and stale tobacco.
I slowly begin to shed my body-soiled shorts and t-shirt, both of which fall to the ground without hesitation. My otherwise white Saturday outfit lies abandoned: laden with sweat, grime, and grease after a long and demanding rotation. My white Linen tunic’s armpits collapse, ripe with collectively accumulated sweat after a long afternoon of bike-construction. My shorts fall into a crumpled denim assemblage of thigh and tailbone dampness after seemingly endless un-air-conditioned journeys in searing, leather-laden sedans. At $4.00/gallon, student bank accounts grow skeletally thin, as tanks of fuel tantalize with promises of camaraderie, culture, and freedom. It is Spring, and ironically, I lie weak with captivating promises of blisteringly frigid, overcast nights in my hometown.
Tomorrow is a long day. Itinerary is as follows: Wake, shower, dress, and depart for Loyola Marymount’s Annual British Parliamentary Debate Tournament, pwn competition, and return to Westwood @ approx 7pm. Follow pwnage with more intensive study in anticipation of the three midterm exams this upcoming week. 22 units (5 classes) of study are especially demanding come midterms season, especially if that Season is Spring.
Things grow muggy and moist in Spring: love catalyzes wayward smiles and hopeful thoughts, which in turn lead to highly distracting physiological craving. Spring 08: the season of fixed gears, cysts, Fat Camp Drill Sargeants, doubtful beginnings, late night minimal, painful circumstance, emotional vulnerability, searing heat, hollow vanity, and cognitive dissonance.
I walk into the dark kitchen and am pleasantly surprised by the refreshing breeze pouring inside from between our italian blinds. Outside the kitchen window, the architectural whirlwind of poured concrete walls, columns, and planters, emanating heat after their daily charge, slowly mold circular funnel clouds in our atrium--gentle enough to send shivers through the predictable palm landscaping, and divinely gracious enough to impart the kitchen with some air circulation after a sticky, sluggish, and scorching Saturday.
I close my eyes and slowly begin to absorb the fleeting, heavily perfumed aroma of the hot Atrium. Unconsciously, I find my organism gluttonously and excitedly pull in a long, deep breath, hoping to capture the fleetingly elegant perfume pouring into my otherwise carelessly maintained co-ed apartment, with its typical standing odor of dingy linen, musky men, and stale tobacco.
I slowly begin to shed my body-soiled shorts and t-shirt, both of which fall to the ground without hesitation. My otherwise white Saturday outfit lies abandoned: laden with sweat, grime, and grease after a long and demanding rotation. My white Linen tunic’s armpits collapse, ripe with collectively accumulated sweat after a long afternoon of bike-construction. My shorts fall into a crumpled denim assemblage of thigh and tailbone dampness after seemingly endless un-air-conditioned journeys in searing, leather-laden sedans. At $4.00/gallon, student bank accounts grow skeletally thin, as tanks of fuel tantalize with promises of camaraderie, culture, and freedom. It is Spring, and ironically, I lie weak with captivating promises of blisteringly frigid, overcast nights in my hometown.
Tomorrow is a long day. Itinerary is as follows: Wake, shower, dress, and depart for Loyola Marymount’s Annual British Parliamentary Debate Tournament, pwn competition, and return to Westwood @ approx 7pm. Follow pwnage with more intensive study in anticipation of the three midterm exams this upcoming week. 22 units (5 classes) of study are especially demanding come midterms season, especially if that Season is Spring.
Things grow muggy and moist in Spring: love catalyzes wayward smiles and hopeful thoughts, which in turn lead to highly distracting physiological craving. Spring 08: the season of fixed gears, cysts, Fat Camp Drill Sargeants, doubtful beginnings, late night minimal, painful circumstance, emotional vulnerability, searing heat, hollow vanity, and cognitive dissonance.