December 2009
+couple bites of a chocolate santa +half a molasses chip +insides of a Lindt truffle +half a piece of oat bread with the crusts torn off +black coffee +Moravian cookies +Vivarin
Breakfast of champions. Or fatasses.
Classical philosophy is a crock of shit. Existentialism and other modern philosophical/epistemological schools of thought I’m more than happy to get into. But Socrates can lick Plato’s nutsack. If you majored in this within the last ten years I don’t know why you would waste four years delving into something so useless and irrelevant but I hope we never cross paths. I don’t...
I took Vivarin a few hours ago with the intent of having the energy and drive to study hardcore for my art history final. So far I have learned how to install a nitrous system, read ten pages of texts from last night, learned about Owsley’s “Wall of Sound,” checked Facebook at least twenty times, made a single serving of stuffing from scratch, danced around the kitchen (a...
I feel weird. I feel like my eyeballs have grown too large for the sockets in which they reside. If eyeballs could reside.
Insomnia has gripped me yet again. Definitely stress-induced. Definitely shitty. I feel as if… I will fail my finals so miserably that when I die it is what I will be remembered for if I do not get my hands on some Adderall within the next 120 hours.
I will try to...
In troubling times, times not only when ones academic standing is in jeopardy and nihilism is pondered in a positive light, but there is a monstrous cricket in ones bedroom and a huge ass spider in the basement, what else is there to do but curl up with a down comforter on the living room couch, eat candied ginger, drink cranberry juice and watch the Boondock Saints.
There is nothing else.