I have to clean the grime out of the engine now.
Slap some glue and pour some glitter on it, and it'll look better. That's what the children do these days.
(Based on the title of the book we're reading in History.)
R-A-G-T-I-M-E
Play it with meaning, containing sense, fashion, stylistic vinyl-lined significance. Space out the letters with originality, with pride. When you slip your tap shoes on, tie the laces tight.
It was apparent from the scratch-marks on the red, white and stars that patriotism struggled in defense, curling the beaten wood under its thumb to kiss the surface of the drum with its reverberating sound that echoed into the soil of the battlefield. As some well-known philosopher said, bravery is dashing in front of the bullet without contemplation of the consequences; courage is an action laced with full realization of a vain death.
I could see the twitching sparrow above my head as my foot tapped the tree root protruding from the rich, blood-crusted mulch of a nation, inappreciatively observing the wavering folds of the cloth positioned at half mass.
"Got any tobacco?"
"No, not since the buffalo disappeared." An answer without apology or regret.
"Shall we have a leader?"
"Perhaps the sparrow can lead our spirits."
But it was trampled by a railroad track.
"No, no. Something more majestic."
"A murderer?"
"Yes, yes. That'll do."
"Shall we have a drumbeat?"
"Hasn't it died?"
"Oh. Perhaps there isn't one."
And with it, conscience and optimism were also trampled.
Because that's what the old, rigid woman with a stiff collar believes ademantly, with fervent rejection constantly being dropped at her doorstep, objectionable calling cards posted on the back of her rocking chair by a black finger, reading, "We'll line anything with vinyl we want."
We all know calloused culture has a simple recipe, especially the man with the tie: Pour heated wax into a medium bowl and add rubber and a phonograph. Stir until smooth. Pour into a blender and add vinyl, plastic, and cassettes. Grind until the ingredients disappear. Listen closely.
After that, the ticket-seller in the beige hat by the consessions stand had nothing to look forward to, because his sparrow's branch had broken. He knew all too well what refusing tea and accepting coffee led to: a false addiction, a vampirical feast on pride, a blind absence of identity, what have you. Of course, the people have many mud-trodden specialties that benefit the greater bad. Keep your eye open, because you don't see many fireworks in December.
CLASSES
Holocaust: It thankfully won't be as depressing as I initially thought, which is wonderful. The class seems more historically oriented (yes!) - as opposed to revolving around a morbid fascination, which Linkous pointed out - with good focus. Rabbi RR is beyond cool. The schedule is really odd, though: it only meets on certain days of the week. That means tomorrow I have a triple-free. I am a triple-free virgin.
US History: FINALLY we get to the 20th century. My life is spiraling upward!
Math: I'm screwed.
Every other class is as it should be.
(Based on the title of the book we're reading in History.)
R-A-G-T-I-M-E
Play it with meaning, containing sense, fashion, stylistic vinyl-lined significance. Space out the letters with originality, with pride. When you slip your tap shoes on, tie the laces tight.
It was apparent from the scratch-marks on the red, white and stars that patriotism struggled in defense, curling the beaten wood under its thumb to kiss the surface of the drum with its reverberating sound that echoed into the soil of the battlefield. As some well-known philosopher said, bravery is dashing in front of the bullet without contemplation of the consequences; courage is an action laced with full realization of a vain death.
I could see the twitching sparrow above my head as my foot tapped the tree root protruding from the rich, blood-crusted mulch of a nation, inappreciatively observing the wavering folds of the cloth positioned at half mass.
"Got any tobacco?"
"No, not since the buffalo disappeared." An answer without apology or regret.
"Shall we have a leader?"
"Perhaps the sparrow can lead our spirits."
But it was trampled by a railroad track.
"No, no. Something more majestic."
"A murderer?"
"Yes, yes. That'll do."
"Shall we have a drumbeat?"
"Hasn't it died?"
"Oh. Perhaps there isn't one."
And with it, conscience and optimism were also trampled.
Because that's what the old, rigid woman with a stiff collar believes ademantly, with fervent rejection constantly being dropped at her doorstep, objectionable calling cards posted on the back of her rocking chair by a black finger, reading, "We'll line anything with vinyl we want."
We all know calloused culture has a simple recipe, especially the man with the tie: Pour heated wax into a medium bowl and add rubber and a phonograph. Stir until smooth. Pour into a blender and add vinyl, plastic, and cassettes. Grind until the ingredients disappear. Listen closely.
After that, the ticket-seller in the beige hat by the consessions stand had nothing to look forward to, because his sparrow's branch had broken. He knew all too well what refusing tea and accepting coffee led to: a false addiction, a vampirical feast on pride, a blind absence of identity, what have you. Of course, the people have many mud-trodden specialties that benefit the greater bad. Keep your eye open, because you don't see many fireworks in December.
CLASSES
Holocaust: It thankfully won't be as depressing as I initially thought, which is wonderful. The class seems more historically oriented (yes!) - as opposed to revolving around a morbid fascination, which Linkous pointed out - with good focus. Rabbi RR is beyond cool. The schedule is really odd, though: it only meets on certain days of the week. That means tomorrow I have a triple-free. I am a triple-free virgin.
US History: FINALLY we get to the 20th century. My life is spiraling upward!
Math: I'm screwed.
Every other class is as it should be.