A placeholder in time.
Hey babies. I think it's time you heard from me again, for your sanity.
Yes, dears, it's true. Flaming buses followed upon allegations that the lacrosse team gangraped and strangled a stripper from nccu while hurling racial insults down Buchanan. Before that, some people fell out of windows at UNC just in time to miss the crazy terrorist who drove his SUV through their quad, basically. The media is camped out in front of the Chapel, and I was on the scene when before all this the cops had found the body of a missing professors's son. Holy hell. Now, we've got gang shootups outside of campus, and Durham gets to say it fears Duke. Oh, irony--usually, you make things more fun but I think you're trying to hard this semester.
A lot has happened since last semester. Drama, Arabic, tears in the computer cluster, spring break at Myrtle. Deciding to move to the Belmont next year with Karen. Ignoring people, breaking my word to ignore people. Thursday dinnering with my fave broadway producer/storyteller. Reporting for the Chronicle, being petrified, becoming editor for Matter. Lushfulness. I almost went corporate and turned into an I-Banker... What can I say? Career Week is a bitch. And still, I don't know whether I'll be withdrawing from Econ this semester--my 5 and a 1/2th class. Idiot. Anyway, I am currently sitting in the Pavilion, not working, as the apocalypse takes a break from ravaging my institution of higher learning.
I only wanted to get all of that out of the way so it's not looming above our collective heads. I'll pour my heart gleefully out to you later. Wish me luck. I've gotten nothing done. Next time, I swear to enchant you with prose instead of placating my own fleeting memory with stilted asyndeton under the guise of addressing an audience of clamoring reader-fans.
Loveya,
Me, myself.
Yes, dears, it's true. Flaming buses followed upon allegations that the lacrosse team gangraped and strangled a stripper from nccu while hurling racial insults down Buchanan. Before that, some people fell out of windows at UNC just in time to miss the crazy terrorist who drove his SUV through their quad, basically. The media is camped out in front of the Chapel, and I was on the scene when before all this the cops had found the body of a missing professors's son. Holy hell. Now, we've got gang shootups outside of campus, and Durham gets to say it fears Duke. Oh, irony--usually, you make things more fun but I think you're trying to hard this semester.
A lot has happened since last semester. Drama, Arabic, tears in the computer cluster, spring break at Myrtle. Deciding to move to the Belmont next year with Karen. Ignoring people, breaking my word to ignore people. Thursday dinnering with my fave broadway producer/storyteller. Reporting for the Chronicle, being petrified, becoming editor for Matter. Lushfulness. I almost went corporate and turned into an I-Banker... What can I say? Career Week is a bitch. And still, I don't know whether I'll be withdrawing from Econ this semester--my 5 and a 1/2th class. Idiot. Anyway, I am currently sitting in the Pavilion, not working, as the apocalypse takes a break from ravaging my institution of higher learning.
I only wanted to get all of that out of the way so it's not looming above our collective heads. I'll pour my heart gleefully out to you later. Wish me luck. I've gotten nothing done. Next time, I swear to enchant you with prose instead of placating my own fleeting memory with stilted asyndeton under the guise of addressing an audience of clamoring reader-fans.
Loveya,
Me, myself.