Though thou be gone, thy metal spirit shall live forever!




My deepest condolences to the families and friends of those who died.



Hoist That Rag.

Right now, I am putting off writing one thousand words about the duties of Greek fathers. In fact, I've been doing a good job of this all day. Not to slight Plato, but i think if i reread Crito one more time, i'm going to lose it, and start flinging poop at the tennis fanatics playing outside my window.

In other news, I was introduced to the miracle of DC++ last week, and my hard drive is now struggling to deal with fifteen gigs of new music. I can't stop. I think I have a problem. It's just...so easy...and there are so many....songs...It's actually somewhat obscene. forty-five hundred songs is too many. I think my computer music actually now dwarfs my cd music. this is ridiculous. The full beard is gone. Apparently, the hair on my cheeks and upper lip has yet to develop past the "slightly-fuzzy-blond" stage, except for two distinct patches right in the middle of each of my cheeks. It looked a little like someone had tried to air-drop fertilizer on a giant lawn, but accidentally blown their whole load in two places. So I shaved it. The goatee is going to grow to compensate though.
Think Steve Von Till.

But, I have procrastinated long enough. Those damn Greeks keep beckoning, and I must heed their call.

Levanta mano, então.

For some reason, sitting here, right now, listening to “stir it up” and staring out my window into the sun is the most transcendently peaceful experience i've had since i can remember.
Maybe it has something to do with being deliriously tired, but, regardless.

Winter break looms. I'm trying not to think about it, but it's too pervasive. The idea that, someday, there might be a time when i don't have any work to do is too beautiful not to contemplate.
I'm to get my mind off the future, but not doing so well. I suppose registration next week isn't helping that much. I'm thinking intro to biological anthropology, but beyond that i'm not sure.

I think i'm wading through a foggy pocket of uncertainty right now. All of a sudden i'm not sure what i want to do, or why i'm doing what i'm doing, and who for, and the meaning of everything seems somewhere just out of reach. Maybe i should take some philosophy next quarter. Actually, i doubt that would help.
I think i need to do something paradigm-destroying and completely self-motivated. Before that though, i should really go finish the Aeneid.

"Insanity in the individual is something rare - but in groups, parties, nations and epochs, it is the rule."

I can't believe I have to deal with four more years of this bullshit.

Fucking Christ.

...
Actually, fucking Christians.
Conservative evangelicals, i suppose, to be specific.

I can't believe that the remainder of the most formative years of my life are going to be spent under this asshole.


I have a plan though. It consists of two steps. They are as follows:

1. Get drunk.

2. Kill everyone.


However, until such time as i enact this plan, I will be on my bed, curled into the fetal position, listening to Slayer.

Ze do Caixao, Zumbi, Lampiao.

I think, really, it's all about Sepultura.

Specifically, Ratamahatta.

Or at least i've been listening to it a lot.


My desire to be in a band is heated red-hot right now. Something about it seems incredibly appealing. I'm not sure what it is specifically, maybe the cameraderie, or my romanticized notion of everything that it entails, or maybe i just want an excuse to jump around like a maniac and thrash the fuck out of everything in my path. Whatever it is, It's overwhelming right now. Maybe i should put up some flyers:

Guitarist seeking metal band.

Infl. include: At The Gates,

Sepultura, Slayer, Emperor,

In Flames, etc.

No fucking Nazis need apply.

call Alex at (206) 778-0777

p.s. I'm a Freshman. But i don't suck. Really.

Please call me. I'm desperate.

I REALLY FUCKING NEED TO PLAY SOMEWHERE.

Or maybe not, i dunno.

I think maybe i'm just getting a little burnt out. Possibly by the THREE ESSAYS I WROTE THIS WEEK WHILE TRYING TO STUDY FOR MY HISTORY MIDTERM TOMORROW.

But you know what, i'm lucky to be here, so i'm going to quit my whining, and get to work.

fucking essays.

Don't crawl, seek his bird of war. When the fallout comes, he is fire.

I used to wonder how people in college had the time to get all of their work done and still have a social life. Now I know: no one fucking sleeps.

gaaahhh i can't take it.

protracted whine:
" "
" "
" "
" "
" "
" "

i need to go do something worthwhile.

Gather round children, it's time you learned about cultural relativism.

You know that person who you fucking hate in the laundry room? Who uses up three washers and doesn't even fucking stick around to pull all their shit out of them when they finally fucking finish washing? You know that fucking person?

Yesterday, that person was me.

(Shame)

It was worth it to have clothes again though. Even if it did cost $3.75.

College is a giant money sponge.

A furore normannorum libera nos, domine!

here we go.

nybörjan.

woot.