September 19, 2002

dance party for fiction

On Tuesday we were settling in to discuss literature in our Writing Fiction class when we were interrupted by a dance party in Ordean Court. We glanced out the fourth floor window to see that a shiny Coke trailer had unfolded like a lotus flower to reveal metal petals of amplifiers, speakers and radio personality rejects. The bass rattled my fillings and my Vanilla Coke I had picked up five minutes earlier from the same trailer.

Apparently Vanilla Coke is such a uniquely ubiquitious product that it cannot be contained in silent billboards, magazine placements and television adverts. On this momentous day they were dispensing both free sugar pop and infectious dance grooves. Normally I wouldn’t mind, as I’ll be the first to praise the cultural advancement inherent in pushing products via association with hip youth interests. However, this was during class, in the middle of the fargin’ day. We were trying to learn something, which, as far as my impression goes, is the point of college in the first place. We did close the windows, which managed to drown out all but the loudest hollahs from below.

“This poem by Dylan Thomas-”


“has six stanzas written in Villanelle for-”



In a restaurant:
Waitress: Could I start you off with a beverage?
Customer: I want SUGAR POP
Waitress: Would you care for an appetizer?
Customer: I’ll have the metal petal of sweet rock infection with dance groove.
Waitress: Are you ready to order, or shall I come back in a few minutes?
Customer: Marrow. Bring me sweet, sweet MARROW!

At least when they were giving away Surge in high school, they addicted us slowly, going from $.25 to $.50 to $.75, to the normal price of $1.00. Vanilla coke says we should drink it? Gimme a discount you whores, and I’ll consider it.
-Digital D