A Wednesday Afternoon
I am Irvine's sad, bored youth-- sitting in Langson Library, an undefined undergraduate between the stages of 3rd and 4th, but perhaps more like a 2nd and 3rd in relation to a 2012 graduation date. Throat burning with the smell of pear, something sour, something cold coating my tongue, dehydrating and weakening my liver. A 50$ compilation of theories sits in front of me, theories that I could have looked up one by one on my laptop for 50$ less. But I am subject to rule, with slight but pleasant bodily retardation, a deceased woman telling me that "intellect will always govern." Portishead's Humming is beating in the background through the bass-blown earphones I bought a month ago, and I am bored. Decapitated and strung along on the back of this suburban horse on a Wednesday Afternoon.