first of all, i would like to address my fellow ACC mouthbreathers. i'm not paying the opportunity cost of going to school and doing penance at the county instead of working a REAL JOB with benefits and retirement and SHIT just so i can spend my evenings with you, who have recently discovered that it's not high school and you can so totally drop the f-bomb during discussion in class. it's fucking english composition UNO. go mouth off to a cop already. i hope he beats you stupid, although he'd have to be robocop to have a chance at making you stupider than you already are. our new words today were... uh... i dunno. i doodled those goddamn mine cars all over the paper. no! i also wrote snarky asides on the new yorker essay he read aloud in class, and did the crossword and sudoku. then he read some other shit in class that i had just heard an hour ago in government, and attempted to impress with his ME recitation of the opening of canterbury tales. *snzzxxngh* i'm thirty years old and getting assigned journal entries about ability, and persuasive essays. at this point i'd rather have a cleveland steamer. or some-many-lots, if that would allow me to test out of this crap.
second, i will rise to the implicit challenge, and serve you with a thirteen-year-old lipogram. it's been edited for my one mistake, which made it a B. otherwise, all capitalization or lack thereof is in the original version. i'll tell you my mistake, and try another one if you can tell me what this assignment was based on - i can't remember, though i have a pretty fucking good guess that i won't look up.
yeah, i don't really need a comp class, or a government class where he summarizes the book and shouts random words and thumps the desk as people sitting in the front desks continue to nap. i could have spent the last four and a half hours on one chapter of macro.
so, in my hunt for that fucking piece of paper, i had to rummage through the time capsule of mold. awesome and gross. set lists, school correspondence, SAT test results from 1995, old university IDs, letters from people i don't even know are alive or not, writing ideas i never used, an austin map from 1983, hundreds of old pay stubs... i threw all the ruined eightballs and optic nerves away, and saved this unreadable shit that's dried together? the fuck's wrong with me?
i did invent a new game for government tonight, however. ACC has installed a campus alert system in some of the classrooms, and usually it just tells the time in eight-inch-high digital numbers. you can sort of look like you're paying attention, but you're really playing minute doodle! you simply figure out how many more fucking minutes you'll have to sit there, write it down, and incorporate the number into a doodle. better make it quick and good, because the number of minutes is about to change and you'll have to start a new one. it totally rules. plus i was angry because i skipped it last week, did some reading during breaks at work today, and was TWO FUCKING CHAPTERS ahead of lecture. dirty whores. just give me all the assignments now so i don't have to do any work in two months. jesus fuck.
i don't have anything else.
second, i will rise to the implicit challenge, and serve you with a thirteen-year-old lipogram. it's been edited for my one mistake, which made it a B. otherwise, all capitalization or lack thereof is in the original version. i'll tell you my mistake, and try another one if you can tell me what this assignment was based on - i can't remember, though i have a pretty fucking good guess that i won't look up.
Angst in Jutland
how glorious to succumb to a fatal malady of animation, a dissolution of soul's blood if I could but quit this animal stagnation and jaunt off to twilit Stygian banks, dismiss all aggravations in this world - how I would favor this option. Crack of doom, land upon my skull! I will not submit to your atrocity and wanton ways. blight of lustful matriarchs, conniving patriarchs, crafty maids and family, may you burn in that world of hot light of truth. Paragons of fault, any fascination with your shallow pool of illusion is fallacy. I watch you show your subconscious man. You think your craft fools all, your titan bullyboy vision. All you unmask is your puny homunculus disposition, viscount of nothing. A foul zonda blows with grim stygian flows. Charon motions, but I still stand. What lands did prior colonists find on that far bank? I know no sagas. My t-shirt says 'no thanatophobia,' but I think I'll stay in my asylum.
yeah, i don't really need a comp class, or a government class where he summarizes the book and shouts random words and thumps the desk as people sitting in the front desks continue to nap. i could have spent the last four and a half hours on one chapter of macro.
so, in my hunt for that fucking piece of paper, i had to rummage through the time capsule of mold. awesome and gross. set lists, school correspondence, SAT test results from 1995, old university IDs, letters from people i don't even know are alive or not, writing ideas i never used, an austin map from 1983, hundreds of old pay stubs... i threw all the ruined eightballs and optic nerves away, and saved this unreadable shit that's dried together? the fuck's wrong with me?
i did invent a new game for government tonight, however. ACC has installed a campus alert system in some of the classrooms, and usually it just tells the time in eight-inch-high digital numbers. you can sort of look like you're paying attention, but you're really playing minute doodle! you simply figure out how many more fucking minutes you'll have to sit there, write it down, and incorporate the number into a doodle. better make it quick and good, because the number of minutes is about to change and you'll have to start a new one. it totally rules. plus i was angry because i skipped it last week, did some reading during breaks at work today, and was TWO FUCKING CHAPTERS ahead of lecture. dirty whores. just give me all the assignments now so i don't have to do any work in two months. jesus fuck.
i don't have anything else.
2 comments:
I had a professor last semester explain what a play was, and how it was different from prose. I'm too old for this shit. I'm one week away from retirement, and they give me a hot-headed young Mel Gibson as my partner?
If you don't keep it, can I have the Austin map???
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