nternal climate-control has me feeling kind of hostile here in Olssen Hall. There's an extremely cold draft blowing out of one of the ceiling air ducts directly onto me, making my hands too stiff to comfortably type. I don't know why we can put a man on the moon but we haven't yet figured out that in April there are still days when it is a bad idea to run the air conditioning at full blast.
think my online journal has successfully ruined my friendship with Jessika. She's as much to blame as I am, since she reads it even though it pisses her off. In so doing she gets to learn every day by day feeling I have, feelings people don't normally share with others. Armed and inflamed with this information, she becomes cold and irritated and I overhear her telling Peggy that I'm flawed because I don't confront her about things. I don't know, I just wish I was living somewhere else with strangers whom I could report on in comfort. I think that's really what this online journal thing is supposed to be about anyway.
I stayed home and took care of lots of little loose ends and neglected corners of my website. According to the Windows 95 search function, there are over one thousand HTML documents in my website.
n the evening, I heard lots of people stumbling into the living room and came to realize that we'd been descended upon by Morgan Anarchy, his two gutterpunk friends from New Orleans, and Little Jason. Later, Monster Boy and Cecelia the Brazilian Girl showed up. By the time I finally got around to hanging out with them, they'd all drunk stolen tussin DM and were waiting for the effects to kick in. Wacky Jen came by in the midst of this and ate a bunch of dextromethorphan gel-caps.
I smoked some of Monster Boy's pot and drank a little vodka concoction I'd made, and this made my temporary symptoms of autism thaw just a little. For some reason I spontaneously started cutting my hair, and Cecelia jumped in and volunteered to do the back. It didn't look too horrible when all was said and done. By this time Morgan and the Gutterpunks were playing Butt Rock (particularly Twisted Sister) really loud on the stereo.
Deya did lots of cleaning of mud and scuff marks from the stairway. As I usually do when someone is doing drastic cleaning, I cowered in my room feeling guilty.
Later I learned from Jessika that the tussin had worked exceptionally well on the gutterpunks (but not Wacky Jen). One of the gutter punks became so messed up that he tried to bum a cigarette from a hallucination, and later he shit his pants in fear. Not being a gutterpunk I guess I'll never understand why they so routinely defecate in their pants. You'd think they'd avoid such infantile behaviours as much as possible given the infrequency with which they clean themselves.
one year ago
back to the top
previous | next