My wife had a boil on her back; yeah, that popped
I was just going to buy Soul Meets Body, but then I decided that I should probably listen to clips on the rest of the album before I do so because I didn't want to spend an extra 99 cents. Turns out, the rest of the album sounds pretty good, too.
Damn.
I saw The Aristocrats today. With Jay. And my parents. And my fourteen-year-old brother. And what a vile and vulgar film it was! Somewhere between dicks playing xylophones, Bob Saget, and onstage abortions performed on 70-year-old grandmothers, the experience became enormously uncomfortable but still managed to be insanely hilarious. I even have the balls to say the following: it was probably the funniest movie I've ever seen in my entire life. I mean that. Sexuality, violence, and profanity that are usually deemed gratuitous suddenly became a necessity when you're getting down to the details of this inside joke between the best of comedians. I really recommend seeing this movie, and on top of that, seeing it with a group of people with whom you would feel uncomfortable saying "cunt." Or even "poop."
It's almost the weekend: my last weekend in town. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm extremely unprepared to go back to Andover, both emotionally and...academically? I haven't finished my college essays yet, or even edited them. When I say "them," I really mean "it." I haven't finished my backtracks columns, which isn't really that big of a deal except I really should have written all of them this summer and I just have drafts of three. Emotionally...I am just a wreck, but a very composed wreck, which may or may not be a good thing. I have five days before I have to start working my ass off.
I'm kind of scared thinking about how I might take it. It's true that this year should be easier since I know what to expect, but...I'm dreading what I know. I'm expecting bad things to come. You know how most movies end where everything is set up for people to have this great life that they don't have to worry about working to achieve? Movies have brainwashed me into thinking that there isn't life beyond the last day of summer. I just cannot fathom what my daily life will be when my phone says 9/9/05. Getting used to doing nothing is really easy and really great. Now I have to do the opposite, and not only do I (and I suppose most other kids my age, huh?) have to worry about general success, I have to worry about doing my best work so I can get into college.
Uhh, that's scary.
Since this is the last week of my existence as a Portlander, the general assumption is that I will be in demand until I leave. I'll (potentially) have to deal with last-minute appointments, family friends wanting to catch one last glimpse of me in my childhood, lots of family meals, and tons of packing; however, most importantly, all of my friends will want to see me. All of them. They'll want to make sure they can see as much of me as humanly possible in my remaining hours of summer, no matter what it takes.
That is the assumption, and that is what used to be true, but this summer has been really different for me and it is depressing, but probably not as much as one may think it should be. I guess these past few days could count as times when people tried to see me for the last time. I finally got to see Whitney and Emily, who, interestingly enough, have been spending a lot of time in isolation (or whatever you want to call it: fitting in some alone time, family bonding, hanging out with jews, etc.). I went to breakfast with Dane and Pete (Jay doesn't count because I am 100% positive that I'll be seeing him every day before I leave). I did some catching up with Julia today before she left for Canada. The thing is, I really don't think I'll be seeing anyone else. I just can't feel it. During past breaks, people usually called me to make the last minute plans. Now, my phone doesn't really ring unless it's Jay or Julia or some member of my family. I can't help but think back to spring break, when people like Kendra would approach me while I visited Wilson and say that we should definitely hang out during the summer. And of course, it's kind of painful to think of people like Taylor, who I used see every day for extended periods of time, but now only hear from every couple of days.
There are lots of people I wish I had called more this summer. And there are lots of people I want to see before I leave. Lots. Really. I wish I had actually gotten to know Dane and Lindsay. I wish I had seen more of Pete and Tommy. I wish I had called Anna more. I wish I had planned something cool for Whitney and Emily to have gotten excited about and maybe, just maybe, actually DONE IT. I wish I had just driven out to Newberg to see Dan and just force him to hang out with me. I wish Merit and I had actually organized the softball reunion. I wish Jon and I ate more Thai food. But I don't want to have to call those people. I want someone to take care of me for the next five days, and I think that's a totally valid request. My dad keeps asking me when I want to have my going away party, and when I'm going to start calling people, and blah blah blah but I DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH THAT. I want someone else to do my party. I don't care what they do with it as long as they don't neglect it (this isn't a want ad for a party planner, by the way). Nothing makes me feel more whole or comfortable than when someone does something for me that is an accurate reflection of my personality without my input, and even if it isn't that great of a representation, I'd still probably think it was fantastic. Asking me what I want to do and pegging me with every decision inflicts so much pain on my emotions. It makes me want to rip up the essay I wrote in my Shakespeare class last term and type WE ARE ALL ALONE in its place and email it to Ms. Tous with a little note that says "this is what I really meant."
I feel really empty right now, but I also feel so much affection for Jay that it's hard for me to keep from shrieking and laughing and choking on my happiness (in public, I usually let loose when I'm driving). I think I watched Jay watch The Aristocrats about half the time I myself was watching The Aristocrats. Seeing him doubled over in laughter was one of the more pleasing experiences of my summer. This boy has been so good to me this summer that he's basically made up for the neglect I've received from other friends. This whole dependency thing isn't really going to work while I'm across the country, so fall term is going to suck cock, guaranteed.
So anyway, there's this really prestigious talent agency, and a guy walks in and says to the agent, "I've got this really great show that I have to tell you about." So the agent tells him to go ahead and describe it. He says...
Damn.
I saw The Aristocrats today. With Jay. And my parents. And my fourteen-year-old brother. And what a vile and vulgar film it was! Somewhere between dicks playing xylophones, Bob Saget, and onstage abortions performed on 70-year-old grandmothers, the experience became enormously uncomfortable but still managed to be insanely hilarious. I even have the balls to say the following: it was probably the funniest movie I've ever seen in my entire life. I mean that. Sexuality, violence, and profanity that are usually deemed gratuitous suddenly became a necessity when you're getting down to the details of this inside joke between the best of comedians. I really recommend seeing this movie, and on top of that, seeing it with a group of people with whom you would feel uncomfortable saying "cunt." Or even "poop."
It's almost the weekend: my last weekend in town. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm extremely unprepared to go back to Andover, both emotionally and...academically? I haven't finished my college essays yet, or even edited them. When I say "them," I really mean "it." I haven't finished my backtracks columns, which isn't really that big of a deal except I really should have written all of them this summer and I just have drafts of three. Emotionally...I am just a wreck, but a very composed wreck, which may or may not be a good thing. I have five days before I have to start working my ass off.
I'm kind of scared thinking about how I might take it. It's true that this year should be easier since I know what to expect, but...I'm dreading what I know. I'm expecting bad things to come. You know how most movies end where everything is set up for people to have this great life that they don't have to worry about working to achieve? Movies have brainwashed me into thinking that there isn't life beyond the last day of summer. I just cannot fathom what my daily life will be when my phone says 9/9/05. Getting used to doing nothing is really easy and really great. Now I have to do the opposite, and not only do I (and I suppose most other kids my age, huh?) have to worry about general success, I have to worry about doing my best work so I can get into college.
Uhh, that's scary.
Since this is the last week of my existence as a Portlander, the general assumption is that I will be in demand until I leave. I'll (potentially) have to deal with last-minute appointments, family friends wanting to catch one last glimpse of me in my childhood, lots of family meals, and tons of packing; however, most importantly, all of my friends will want to see me. All of them. They'll want to make sure they can see as much of me as humanly possible in my remaining hours of summer, no matter what it takes.
That is the assumption, and that is what used to be true, but this summer has been really different for me and it is depressing, but probably not as much as one may think it should be. I guess these past few days could count as times when people tried to see me for the last time. I finally got to see Whitney and Emily, who, interestingly enough, have been spending a lot of time in isolation (or whatever you want to call it: fitting in some alone time, family bonding, hanging out with jews, etc.). I went to breakfast with Dane and Pete (Jay doesn't count because I am 100% positive that I'll be seeing him every day before I leave). I did some catching up with Julia today before she left for Canada. The thing is, I really don't think I'll be seeing anyone else. I just can't feel it. During past breaks, people usually called me to make the last minute plans. Now, my phone doesn't really ring unless it's Jay or Julia or some member of my family. I can't help but think back to spring break, when people like Kendra would approach me while I visited Wilson and say that we should definitely hang out during the summer. And of course, it's kind of painful to think of people like Taylor, who I used see every day for extended periods of time, but now only hear from every couple of days.
There are lots of people I wish I had called more this summer. And there are lots of people I want to see before I leave. Lots. Really. I wish I had actually gotten to know Dane and Lindsay. I wish I had seen more of Pete and Tommy. I wish I had called Anna more. I wish I had planned something cool for Whitney and Emily to have gotten excited about and maybe, just maybe, actually DONE IT. I wish I had just driven out to Newberg to see Dan and just force him to hang out with me. I wish Merit and I had actually organized the softball reunion. I wish Jon and I ate more Thai food. But I don't want to have to call those people. I want someone to take care of me for the next five days, and I think that's a totally valid request. My dad keeps asking me when I want to have my going away party, and when I'm going to start calling people, and blah blah blah but I DON'T WANT TO DEAL WITH THAT. I want someone else to do my party. I don't care what they do with it as long as they don't neglect it (this isn't a want ad for a party planner, by the way). Nothing makes me feel more whole or comfortable than when someone does something for me that is an accurate reflection of my personality without my input, and even if it isn't that great of a representation, I'd still probably think it was fantastic. Asking me what I want to do and pegging me with every decision inflicts so much pain on my emotions. It makes me want to rip up the essay I wrote in my Shakespeare class last term and type WE ARE ALL ALONE in its place and email it to Ms. Tous with a little note that says "this is what I really meant."
I feel really empty right now, but I also feel so much affection for Jay that it's hard for me to keep from shrieking and laughing and choking on my happiness (in public, I usually let loose when I'm driving). I think I watched Jay watch The Aristocrats about half the time I myself was watching The Aristocrats. Seeing him doubled over in laughter was one of the more pleasing experiences of my summer. This boy has been so good to me this summer that he's basically made up for the neglect I've received from other friends. This whole dependency thing isn't really going to work while I'm across the country, so fall term is going to suck cock, guaranteed.
So anyway, there's this really prestigious talent agency, and a guy walks in and says to the agent, "I've got this really great show that I have to tell you about." So the agent tells him to go ahead and describe it. He says...