What is this feeling below my ribcage – Broken Heart or Family of Hampsters? Friday, Dec 17 2004

:: 2004 17 December :: 1.29 am
:: Mood: in pain
:: Music: Magnetic Fields, I’m an Operetta
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there is a war going on right under the middle of my ribcage – it hurts and i am curled up with a pillow in the common room, remembering that i have a rewrite due in english… tomorrow before i leave. tonight was wonderfully productive but i can’t even tell you how relieved i will be to see exams finally over- this is the worst set i have ever been through, and this entire week has just been about being seventeen (which means nothing) and jeremy and will being deferred, which means that i will. never, ever, ever go to school, ever. because they are better than anyone else who wanted to go to school, and harvard is a strumpet for michael mure. so there, nasty ivies. take your molly fowler and let us keep our 7.9 GPA-ed avery miller; you’re a shoebox lizard. i studied US for a million hours tonight with jamie thalman and curran bullock, who wears a horse shirt and looks like a fat lesbian and broke three xerox machines and took two and a half hours to create that many notecards. he takes my jones for a stewarts – who are you, ben bullock, why do you have such a big head?

i am in an email battle with the little black kid who dated the little spice girl because he lost his bike, and therefore insulted my journals. he was just caught up in the meyhem of not-having-a-bike (“walking”)and thought it was a good idea to be a princess bitch for a bit.

i want ali voorman to meet mao the everyday communist halloweener. but first i want this fufu berry to fill my gap ache.

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An Eye for an Eye Makes the Whole World a Freshman Lunch Table Wednesday, Dec 8 2004

:: 2004 8 December :: 11.35 am
:: Mood: hungry
:: Music: Weezer, My Name is Jonas
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i just wrote a million pages and my computer has had its way with me.

to hell with book club! italo calvino, i will never cheapen our love by devouring you and delivery pizza simultaneously – where is ben wendel?

sitting upstairs in the common room before lunch in the crater of pillow mountain; there are freshmen here and they are discussing the penis monster and how abortion is an illegal sin. god, i love reserve- i have purchased a RESERVE CONDITIONING t-shirt for spirit day.

i received two invitations to advisory holiday parties today, one tomorrow lunch and then another the evening of the thirteenth

(six days until birthday!)

and they are both poorly disguised vessels for giving me my grades, an event which i try to postpone whenever possible – i am going to be admonished for terrible physics grade, i know, and i don’t care because i get 0s on my binder checks, seeing as i don’t have a binder – i have not been taught anything, and thus see nothing fit to write down. the girls in my dorm have begun calling mr. bonomo “buh-nomes” and dressing up like sluts when he comes around to help with homework. he is a nincompoop, and is only good for techno-beatboxing and swimmers shoulders, both of which are apparently widely accepted sexually attractive characteristics – i think i may just have terrible taste. he is dating the worst woman in the world, and they are avid sexers, and you can hear it from the rooms at the end of the hall. this is all i have to say: if a college ever asks me about my physics grade… i will show them my “corrected” worksheets… in which bonomo switches the words “vector” and “cosine,” and fails completely at using the pythagorean theorem.

asshole. it’s time for

Lunch:
Chili with cheddar cheese and crackers
Rice
Hot mixed vegetable
Tossed salad
Cornbread muffins
Pudding cups
Coffee, Tea, Milk

pudding cups are the shit.

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