Ok kids, it’s time for a new version of Cromlech to be released. Work begins today, and when it’s done it’s gonna r0xx0rz j00r b0xx0rz.
Finished that essay five minutes before it was due and it felt like a prickly planet had been lifted from my aching shoulders. I went home after class and took a two hour nap. Woke up to the sw33t s0wndz of Phish playing at Sugarbush. I listened to Chalkdust Torture three times in a row before going to jazz.
Went to Sir Benedict’s Tavern to listen to Celtic music and celebrate my 21st. I had a long desciption of the night written for this Blither but I forgot to save it. Now I’m quite angry, but it’s such a great day I’m not gonna try to write it again. There will soon be new experiences that need discussion.
But shit, that was some really nice writing. I was quite proud. Thy gods hast striketh me down for mine great hubris.
GRAAH! That’s so frusterating, neh?!
Ga. The last few days I’ve been spinning in a washing machine of collegiate chaos that even Automan hasn’t been able to nullify. I’ve been slowly inching up on my homework, but I have an essay due tomorrow for American Lit that I haven’t even considered yet.
Went to bed late last night reading Hobbes for philosophy, woke up early this morning for the Wooch! table setup. Most of today was spent in class or campaigning at the table, which has all sorts of cool stuff on it; Prince Albert in a Can, a rubber rat, various rocks, the Horn, Spam, Godzilla, ski poles, snow shoes, a Swedish pastor… and Doug’s red blinking light. Eventually got home, went to jazz, got home, ate a rotten chicken burrito, took a bastu and showed up late to the Wooch! meeting. When trying to do some book keeping after the meeting, people kept confusing me on purpose. I now have At the current moment I should be writing an essay.
Yesterday was fun, too. Went to bed late talking to a friend and woke up for philosophy where I sat for an hour breathing hot roofing tar. The room spun. Then I had two hours of Geology lab and 1 1/2 hours of American Lit. Got home, took a nap. The computer I built for Tyler and Greta crashed, so I talked to them about getting it working again. While talking to them I tried in vain to fix my USB ports, which have been terribly finicky lately. Went to jazz, got home, burned my Pasta Roni and decided to salvage the rest of the evening by going out to Miller Hill.
My car started with some coaxing and I went to Target. Dropped off film, got dish soap, toilet cleaner, lotion, glue sticks, car mats, window washer fluid, fuel injector treatment, kitchen fragrance, ball point pens and Neosporin. Some of these products will be put to immediate use, as we will see.
Went to Gander Mountain for some seam sealer, as my tent still leaks even after two tubes of the stuff. Finally went to the liquor store and bought some bottles of Carlsburg… I found it only appropriate that my first alcohol purchase be imported Danish beer.
So I got home absolutely exhausted, and wanted nothing more than to start on my homework… so logically I start working on opening the lotion bottle. I spent five minutes trying to cut off a plastic guard and finally plunged the scissors into my finger. Bleeding profusely, I scrambled for the bathroom, rinsed the wound, scrambled back to my room, got the Neosporin, scrambled back to the bathroom and put on a bandage. Tom prescribed an E.L. Fudge to reduce the pain. So I continued my attempt to open the lotion bottle and spilled it all over my pants and the bathroom. Innuendo ensued… but I finally got the damn thing open.
…and soon discovered that my favorite somethingawful.com was closed.
I need heroin.
The day was headed down a dark path. I started to come down with a cold, I have got a lot of homework to do and the frivolous, decadent nature of pop style was scraping through my skull like a rusty saw.
And then Doug stumbled upon Automan, a 70s TV show about a computer geek that created a perfect virtual person that decided to come to life as an obsequious hologram. To the free world’s great benefit, Automan granted himself existence to fight crime and reiterate 70s culture.
“I look great. You made me perfect, Walter.”
“Well now, nobody is perfect, Automan.”
“Yes, I am. See, you programmed me to observe people and do everything as well as they can do. Have you ever seen John Travolta dance? Then you’ve seen me.”
Automan has many talents that include chatting with slot machines, playing video tapes in his chest and solidifying neon Lamborghinis out of thin air.
The bad guys are so unpredictably evil, too…
“We must use caution with the next phase of our plan.”
“But no one knows this part of our plan except you and I… and Ellen.”
“So you see our problem, then?”
“Yes. I will kill you right away.”
“Wait, no! That’s not what I meant.”
The Sci-Fi channel is running an Automan marathon all day.
Not only that. Jen also found an archive of the “personal ass kicking from a 230 pound man” that was up for bidding on EBay.
This is the best birthday ever!
After the Wooch! meeting tonight we had a nice fire atop Rock Hill. After some fascinating stories from Paul and Nate Bahls about northern lights, spookin’ people and Nuda Wooch!, we all gathered ’round for a huge game of hot schalaka.
“The game was so great, I’ve got blisters!”
Lots of new people, all learnin’ the peculiar ways of the elders. It was a wonderful sight, really, seeing all this new blood transfusing into the mighty veins of Wooch! Fresh meat.
I also accidentally agreed to do a Statesman write-up for this weekend’s Caribou River trip. Somehow I have to justify it into the Entertainment section. Deadline is Monday. Crap. Well, if I fall to my death on the trip (likely) I might get out of writing the story… but they’ll probably go through the trouble of finding a Necromancer and all and resurrecting my corpse just to get the article written. Newspapers are weird like that.
On another note, I feel the quality of Blithers may be going downhill. Time constraints and a short attention span have greatly reduced the care I put into them. I don’t even think I bother proofreading anymore. If you haven’t noticed, please ignore this paragraph.
I don’t understand.
The flies aren’t getting caught in the fly paper. They’re falling dead on the shelf under the fly paper. I’d go to Menard’s and demand my money back, but that seems so unpatriotic.
I missed last night’s Letterman, and I heard it was really great…Dan Rather, very emotional, etc… The show was on tonight, and I kept asking Tom if they were rerunning the one from last night. He made fun of me.
“It’s the Last Night Show, Dane. The Last Night Show. Ha!”
So I says… “Shut up, Tom! NEAAA! GRRAA! I’LL LAST NIGHT YOU!” “ARG!”
Needless to say two RA’s stopped by to see what the hell was going on. I explained that Tom was making fun of me so I was busy being mad. They were pleased, as they expected to find someone freaking out in the depths of an ether binge. The two of ’em kept craning their necks around, trying to find the alcohol that I must be drunk on. I offered one of them an E.L. Fudge. They left.
I started eating Wheat Thins, and Tom said I should go over to the RA’s place and ask if I could watch the Last Night Late Show. And that I should offer them Wheat Thins.
So I sez, “If Wheat Thins were beer, I’d be drunk.”
A bunch of us Wooch!ers went up the Shore today and stomped around Tettegouche. The countryside is now dotted with patriotic symbols… banners with encouraging words, fast food restaraunts that have replaced the “99 cent double cheeseburger” lettering with something more inspiring, American flags hanging from significantly more surfaces than in recent years…
…and the trip was super fun! We played on the beach, walked along the river, fell in the river, found a nice swimming hole and finally got ‘baptized’ in the river. Crazy Jeff found a tall cliff and christened it by jumping off first. Like good religious zealots most of us followed suit, and the records of our plunge into faith are forever recorded digitally. If the Wooch! webpage ever gets up and running the photos will be posted. Especially the ones with nudity. If.
The All Mighty Senators played here at UMD tonight, giving many people the cathartic relief from tragedy that we all need at this time. The Senators began their show by saying that 48 hours ago they were considering cancelling the tour. But they held fast, saying “We all need to know its ok to dance again, hug our friends. We’re glad to be here.”
The audience was pleased of their presence as well, and everyone danced extra hard. The Senators presented a beautifully arranged show with pieces to enlighten the soul and cure the troubled mind. A song with the simple line “I’m from the USA,” drew loud cheers from the crowd. An encore with the popular “Keep on Rockin’ in the Free World” was an emotional declaration of our collective strength.
Suddenly American life does not seem as frivilous as it did before. They crashed airplanes into landmarks with the hope of driving our country into a mad panic, but instead they have pulled us ever closer together.
Don’t mess with Texas.
Two years ago I went alone to New York City for spring break. One night I stood atop the World Trade Center and marveled at the electric beauty of New York. Tiny yellow globes twinkled down straight avenues, and the din of the living city was a comforting hum at that altitude. I can recall the chilly April wind tugging at my Ragstock jacket. I remember the antenna lights slowly fading on and off, bathing the roof in a steady pattern of soothing blackness and prophetic red.
Our kitchen stank like death, so we took out the trash. That improved our standard of living somewhat. After that it just smelled like near-death. Where could that smell be coming from? While putting away dishes I found an ancient potato(e) storage shelf. Sniff. Yup, that’s it. I grabbed the five pound bag of old(e) sprouting potatoes… it was dripping and rotting like a corpse. I ran out the door for the dumpster outside, gagging the entire time. My eyes still burn.
It will take me weeks to recover from this. I need a drink.