Haikus

Procrastination -

Should I work on my paper?

Or just take a nap?

Like the falling rain

School is quickly eroding

My will to go on

I must ask myself

How much liquor will it take

to make schoolwork fun?

The green light is out.

It will never blink again.

My printer has died.

My introduction:

accidentally deleted.

My heart has turned black.

More Papers

Have you ever started writing a paper, maybe even finished a paper early for the first time in your life, and then been faced with the realization, not that what you wrote was crap, but that you wrote completely on the wrong subject? Well...let me tell you, its not fun. Maybe there's something to reading directions after all. But you'd think that a professor would mention that he put up paper guidelines on one of the days that I attended class. Insensitive jerk.

Oh well. I'd promise updates, but I know both that I won't do it, and that no would care if I did. So I'll just indulge my porn addiction, then get straight to work.

Simplicity

I've realized now that my whole life I've been completely wrong today. ("I think I've had an apostrophe." "I think you mean an Epiphany" "Lightning has just struck my brain." "Well that must hurt.") Ever since I was about, oh, 16 I've thought that I was an incredibly complicated human being. Not only was I more intelligent then those around me (they just didn't get me) I was morally superior. While all the space monkey's around me drank or smoked themselves into a stupor, I held myself aloof from them. I mingled with them as one mingles with commoners: as a kind of game. Though I could boast that I had no enemies and many friends, I always saw myself as deeper than they were: stronger somehow. Today, it has occurred to me that I am actually an incredibly simple human being. I went grocery shopping (I've been living off bacon for the last week and a half) and almost peed my pants at all the varieties of coffee that the Teet has. Examining all the different mixes and brews I exclaimed, "OH shit!" happily to the dismay of my fellow shoppers. An old lady fixed her steely gaze on me, but what did I care? Not even stopping to beg her pardon (I'm a crazy motherfucker I know) I shoved my face as close to the grinder as was prudent and inhaled the rich aroma. Fiendishly glancing back and forth to make sure that the old lady had turned away and no one else had come near I wiped the grains off the spout and rubbed the brown mix into my hands so the smell would stick with me. I took a full 15 minutes trying to decide what to try, and for a brief, insane moment, I imagined running down the length of containers, filling my bag with a bit of each to create my own monsterous concoction. It would have been too much for me to bear I think, though, so I just went with something Columbian. I figured if they make cocaine this good they must have some pretty damn fine coffee too. Satisfied finally, I moved on to the beer isle. Here there was no confusion - here I had the intense pleasure of knowing exactly what I wanted. Guinness. God I love the Irish. Then some Asti Spumante (for the making of Black Velvets - Guinness and Sparkling Wine, I can't wait). I won't go into the joy I felt at buying meat. Oh meat how I love thee. As I drove home I was aroused, aroused I say!, by the thought that just minutes from then I would be sitting outside, enjoying the crisp fall air, reading Tolstoy, drinking Columbian coffee and smoking some fine Tobacco. What could be better? Is there more to life then this? If there is, count me out. I have found pure happiness. To hell with being deep. Simple pleasures are clearly the best when you allow yourself to enjoy them. I think I will be a Falstaff. If I die when I'm 45 of heart disease or a stroke then so be it. At least I will go out happy. My dog died fat and happy. I think I'll do the same.

To hell with it...

Jesus man, what the fuck is going on with the world? Why is every son of a bitch settling down and having 6 goddamn monkey children with the little wife? Christ, when did college end? Why are all these bastards so fucking ready to sell their souls to the corporate devil? And why is that somehow called "real life?" Well fuck real life man. I'm never going, not if they have to drag me kicking and screaming. Its a scam I say, I perverse fucking Nazi scam. They'll suck you dry and spit your husk of a corpse for your monkey children to pick apart like the depraved vultures they are. Not me man. No fucking way. Its Arizona for me, by God. Go west young man...out in the desert. Its the only damn place that's free anymore. I just can't wait until the spacelanes open - I can't wait to hop into my Ford fucking Starcruiser pay my way through those damn space tolls around Mars and then let the rest of the civilized universe eat the dust off my sandals. I'm out man. Sailing the solar winds on the Queen Anne's Revenge. Its the only way to stay sane. Christ! The authorities will be on to me of course. How could they not? They can't let someone like me get away...it'll be bedlam. When word of this gets out they'll have hell on earth. It might occur to people that living off the fat of those rich bastards is better than shoving it down their frog throats. The fuckers will riot. No stopping that. The depraved bastards will destroy everyone in their path. Women and children won't be safe. Who can blame them? After years of servile bootscraping who wouldn't be in for a little murder and rapine. Not me though. Hell, no. I'll be lightyears away making treaties with Alpha Centaurians, trading them beads for gold. Silly bastards. I'll feel guilty, sure, but a man's got to make a living.