Quintessential Mecca of hundreds of thousands of college students, hopeless alcoholics, and a trace of the underground making the bowels of the earth vibrate with murderous Gothic or obnoxious electronica. Dreams are made and broken on the weekend. You can get drunk (or pretend) and sleep in to your heart's content. It's our break from the workday where we can steadily abuse our right to be human.

I sit...on my ass, in a room, in Ohio. The beer and flurorescent lighting at lunch gave me a bad headache. My neck is out of place again. The highlight of my evening will be going out and buying a pizza. I have been reading since noon. I will continue to read and write out every note I've made in a 200 page novel to write a paper for monday.

Approximate bedtime: 4:00am.

My only question is how anyone can have the balls to ask me if I'm happy. Not just doing well. Happy. Only reply I can think of is asking which way the barrel of the Magnum .357 is facing relative to me.

I'd really be happy with either side right now. I could use more quiet around the dorm.

Alas, I can't party on a weekend. I work instead. Guess my preference is moot.

previous - next