threw away the rose....
I apologize, in advance, for the overzealous use of parenthetical remarks. but fuck you, i like them.
Hmm, at the library again, without my cellphone to capture and draw me back into reality. Seems like this is where i'm destined to stay for the next 14 months. I talked to an advisor, and I'll make it out in 4 years. I guess I'll take that, given my failing classes and minimal credits at OSU. 1 year left of undergrad, and hopefully I'll make it into a decent grad school. On the topic of graduate school; I was learning about Thomas Merton (famous American monk, social theology stuff) and he too went to Ivy League school. Womanized and boozed it up, just like Holden. I can dream... bah
Anyways. I have, among 100 other papers, a zine and poem due for my social ethnography class. So I finished those and I'm actually ok with how my zine turned out. Little things like that, which need little time committed to them, I find enjoyable. Only took my an hour to think of the zine and put it together. I'll try and scan it and make an e-zine!! OMG.
And, the poem. It HAD to be an ode. Naturally my subject was Ian, and that’s the only logical region I'm posting it here(for the record). Everyone knows i have a fleeting grasp of the English language (its half inside jokes anyways), so keep that in mind while reading it (or glancing at it, or whatever you do).
--------------------
Ode to Ian-
DJ hellatite,
forever in the proverbial mix.
Screaming profanities few will ever hear,
even less can appreciate.
Shaggy Ian William David Yates
why dont you find a shave(r)?
Stuck between a confessional bottle of wine
and a dogmatic shove down the throat.
Your life, filled with panicked Hysteria
subjects to fits of pyromania...
future destined for vivisection,
but what about thai-thai?
Third grade psychoanalysis inspired by,
the toxic capri sun.
44% more yates than the
pretty standard, procrastination.
Wearing the cFc stripes
stealing the worst day of your life
the T2 beat, sounding steady.
You'll figure it out.
---------------------------
Yeah, go poems! ugh.
Hmm, at the library again, without my cellphone to capture and draw me back into reality. Seems like this is where i'm destined to stay for the next 14 months. I talked to an advisor, and I'll make it out in 4 years. I guess I'll take that, given my failing classes and minimal credits at OSU. 1 year left of undergrad, and hopefully I'll make it into a decent grad school. On the topic of graduate school; I was learning about Thomas Merton (famous American monk, social theology stuff) and he too went to Ivy League school. Womanized and boozed it up, just like Holden. I can dream... bah
Anyways. I have, among 100 other papers, a zine and poem due for my social ethnography class. So I finished those and I'm actually ok with how my zine turned out. Little things like that, which need little time committed to them, I find enjoyable. Only took my an hour to think of the zine and put it together. I'll try and scan it and make an e-zine!! OMG.
And, the poem. It HAD to be an ode. Naturally my subject was Ian, and that’s the only logical region I'm posting it here(for the record). Everyone knows i have a fleeting grasp of the English language (its half inside jokes anyways), so keep that in mind while reading it (or glancing at it, or whatever you do).
--------------------
Ode to Ian-
DJ hellatite,
forever in the proverbial mix.
Screaming profanities few will ever hear,
even less can appreciate.
Shaggy Ian William David Yates
why dont you find a shave(r)?
Stuck between a confessional bottle of wine
and a dogmatic shove down the throat.
Your life, filled with panicked Hysteria
subjects to fits of pyromania...
future destined for vivisection,
but what about thai-thai?
Third grade psychoanalysis inspired by,
the toxic capri sun.
44% more yates than the
pretty standard, procrastination.
Wearing the cFc stripes
stealing the worst day of your life
the T2 beat, sounding steady.
You'll figure it out.
---------------------------
Yeah, go poems! ugh.