Poughkeepsie (well, Hopewell Junction anyway)

Went upstate for a graduation party earlier today. Marielle's friend Jenn's graduation party, specifically. It was a good time.

Double Denzel

Watched Out of Time and Deja Vu tonight. Both solid movies. Out of Time reminded me of Wild Things a bit, with a little less fuckery going on; Deja Vu was pretty original. For the most part.

Haven't written a blog entry in a mad long time.

The Holiday

Why am I enjoying this movie so much? I'm a tool.

There's nothing like a ripe, juicy pear.

Second to last

night for take-home final-doing till the early hours. Getting there.

Shaved my beard today. I look like a kid.

Have you ever

just wished that swiss cheese was purple? Wouldn't that just be more fun?

My Reading Log

is in terrible need of an update. Maybe I'll do that next.

Mr. Bones

"I'm not running in place any more, so you can leave me alone..."

Anyway, what a surprise - here I am at 4:47 a.m. and working on a take-home final for History 261 (4 pages, minimum). Due tomorrow, of course. How much do I have so far, you ask? A mere 2 pages, for now. But that's what this trusty blog is for - burning off the need to procrastinate so I can get back to my work, right?

Yes and no. If you look over the majority of my posts, I think most of them relate to that kind of ridiculous strain of commentary, but that is definitely not why I created this thing. To my knowledge, approximately 2 people know of its existence, so, really, I don't know what this is for.

I need more coffee.

Everyone should listen to the John Butler Trio. At least a few songs ("middle finger on the button of disaster...").

I think that I am going to author a Powerpoint presentation, out of sheer boredom. It's still before five, I only need another non-double spaced page, and the exam isn't due until 3 p.m. It would be awesome, though, if I could drop off my Ulysses final tomorrow as well.

Got a rad cookbook in the mail today, courtesy of American Express.

I really can't wait for May 18th. Graduation is going to rock and I am going to be free, free, free. Jack Johnson and Donavon Frankenreiter style.

See all those hyperlinks? I really don't want to get back to writing this paper yet. Maybe I'll give it a shot, though, as this post has now consumed 15 minutes of my oh-so-valuable time.

Done and Done

Done with class, forever. It's a good feeling, if a little bittersweet.

I still have finals, but that should be no big. Graduation is on the 18th of May (Independence Day).

Getting out of debt party = TBA.

I don't want to get a real job...but I may have to. We'll see.

Finis!

Done I am done done done done done. It feels so good for me to be done done done. I'm a little punchy.

Plaid shorts

rock.

The end is very much in sight. I've only got a page left to go, and I really just can't get myself to write it. I have at least four hours until I need to leave for school - plenty of time to finish up, tweak my other paper, apply finalizations, and go. But I'm sitting here writing in my entirely unknown blog, yet again.

Here's a little snatch of poetry (or something) that I wrote the other day in my head and can't stop repeating to myself:

Corncob pipe and a whiskeyfried jacket,
Monkeys in the trees and a lighter in my pocket.

What the hell is that? I seriously love the word "whiskeyfried," though I have no idea what it may mean. I'm loving my tendency to be Joycean about the creation of words lately, inspired, in total, I am sure, by reading his masterwork.

Maybe if I keep writing in this blog, something cool will happen one day. I need to keep writing somewhere, at any rate. "Keep on movin' now...I gotta keep on movin' now." Anyone who names that tune wins a dollar.

Ohhhh oh, we're halfway there...ohh oh...

Livin' on a pray-er? Take my hand, we'll make it, I swear...

Surprisingly, or not really, I'm halfway done with my Ulysses paper at this point. Considering that I still have at least five hours to work with, things look good. And considering that I started at two, and am thus only two hours into actual writing, things look very good. At this pace, I'd be done by six. Then again, here I am, taking a solid break.

I seriously can't wait for school to be over, but I'm sort of savoring this final night of meaningful procrastination. It's weird, but I'll almost miss this kind of thing.

The 24 oz. Sevs coffee, the several open books around my iBook, and the bright lights of the kitchen beginning to hurt my eyes a little bit. Yeah, this is what college is really all about, if you ask me.

Ulysses, part deux

Well, here I am, once again procrastinating the writing of a paper for my Ulysses class. Luckily, I've already put a four-pager to rest for Professor Marshik's other class - 20th century British literature (or a reasonable approximation thereof). I'm linking a lot in this article, in that clever little way that we bloggers sometimes do. When I do that, you can assume I'm trying to burn up some time.

What soothes me is that time races inexorably forward toward tomorrow and that before day breaks (well, maybe not before day breaks, but certainly before 10:40 a.m.) I will have completed this beast - the last serious paper of my college career. Because I can't allow myself not to. I am a procrastinator and I wait until the -last- minute. I always have. And I'm going to get an A on this paper just like I always do, damnit.

Now, if only I could start it.

Elliot Perlman

Yesterday, I started reading The Reasons I Won't Be Coming, which is an early short story collection by Elliot Perlman (published before Seven Types of Ambiguity). I love this guy. Seven Types remains one of my most favoritest books of all time, and one of my main recommendations to other people who happen to ask for a good book. Perlman is genius. And Australian :)

Just thought I would write that down.

I'm pretty sure I have liver damage. As I definitely do not wish to wake up at the age of 35 and be a hardened drunk, with a wife who is about to leave him, I am going to cut down on the drinking activities at this point. Scary.

Faithless Promises

I said I was going to update my reading log over spring break and I didn't. I said I was going to read a whole lot (for school, anyway) over spring break and I didn't. Spring break was awesome, but now I'm just as behind as I was with my shit. Also, I haven't written anything here in a week. Yeah. New poems soon, though. I promise.

Someone tell me to stop starting new books before I finish the ones I'm currently reading. Also, I promise I'll update my reading log this week, as I don't have any school to worry about. I'm quite behind on that.

I think I'll try to write a little before work today. I'll post if anything cool happens.

Could I BE any more tired?



(no).

People who talk out loud to themselves in lounges suck. Especially when they're sitting extremely close to me for no reason at all, and I'm trying to write.

Also, reminder to self: write a short about the ridiculous spectacle you just witnessed, and don't bother to change the names.

Paladin

Waxen-lipped caricature,
Cheeks too full of blush.
His eyes, lids locked at long last.
Paladin. Fallen fatherhero.

My brother’s hand, my shoulder.
She is crying again.
Standing alone in a crowd,
My mother’s mascara flees down her face.

She was his springtide.
She was his summer.
She was his.

My own tears, like falling stars,
Are inadequate.

My history professor just broke out a Teddy Roosevelt action figure in class, and then told us to go here, if we wanted to get one of our own. Is it just me, or is that slightly ridiculous?

Who wants to go to work for me today?

Like They Say Juan Do

I recently purchased a harmonica on eBay for five dollars. Unbeknownst to me at the time of purchase, this particular harmonica has 48 holes in it, which I now understand to be somewhat advanced. I ordered a simple, 10-hole harp (apparently this is the proper slang), but while I wait for it to arrive, I've been messing around with the big mother, and it is seriously fun as hell.

I recommend that everyone go out and buy a harmonica post haste. I can't wait until I get the smaller one, so I can walk around with it in my back pocket and whip it out at random times.

Ok, I'm done talking for now. By the way, sorry about the title of this post; I'm listening to Breathe, haha.

Keep on Truckin'

Well, I'm still at it. And really bored. It seems that I can take an unlimited amount of Rising Sun breaks in between writing a paragraph or two and stay perpetually alert and awake. My next deadline - for the third and final section - is 7 a.m. Also, I need to do my Russian homework at some point. Great.

The Last Possible Minute

Why is it that I can't seem to do anything until The Last Possible Minute? I wrote a five-page paper for my Ulysses class between the hours of 1 a.m. and 7 a.m. on the day that it was due, two or three weeks ago, and I got an A-. That only serves to encourage this terrible habit, really. I'm sitting here now and it's nearly midnight, and I haven't started my 6-page take-home midterm for HIS261. At least, I'm pretty sure it's 261. Wish me luck?