"So come back, I am waiting"

There is, at this point, no doubt in my mind that the music of Okkervil River is the most important to defining and detailing my life. It's sweeping, majestic, raw, dark, intensely perceptive and poetic. One never before knows the hopelessness in a set of dark black blinds or the romance in a single, cracked stone. Or the crackle in a radio song.

But I digress.

I envy Alanna's ability to write without reservation. To be a private writer doing what she does for the sake of it. I write to be read. That's why I tag people in this mess. And why whatever's in here will be just a few clicks shy of honesty. Well, maybe not honesty. But spontaneity. An unfinished quality... an essense of genuineness. Maybe I should try. But at the same time I realize that if I'm ever writing about someone in here, I'll refer to him or her as just that.

"She makes me smile like I haven't in forever."

See? But where are the balls in that? There isn't a gusto to the language like there would be if I wrote about how Leopold is the biggest fucking cock-sucker, like, ever. With imagery and colorful verse! "And when Leopold ran a sticky hand through that crisco hair I felt like saying 'well, isn't this just perfect' before burying a potato skinner in his neck." Sorry Leopold, whom I've never met but will inevitably find this and be insulted. Maybe I take to ambiguities. Or maybe I just really want you to wonder if what I've got to say is about you.

Rutgers deferred my application, opting to wait for my Spring semester scores before admitting or rejected me as a transfer- arranging it so that I'd be selecting classes after the incoming freshmen, I'm sure.

And I can't help but think "Well...

Isn't this just perfect."

But life isn't all bad. I got a job this morning. At least I think I did. The employment application and interview process at Six Flags is extraordinarily disorganized and unpleasant. But I have orientation next weekend, so that sounds reasonably binding. What'll I be doing at Six Flags? I will be costumed character. Go on. Laugh. Get it all out. But the price is right and performance art is something I've been missing these past months. Maybe "art" is a stretch. I take what I can get.

No, seriously, it really isn't all bad. I've been happier lately than I've been in quite a bit. There is a fairly lengthy list of things that have contributed to this but it does NOT include: Rutgers University Admissions Department, Probability and Statistics, the UFlorida Gators, every damn store that I put in an application for and never called me back, my family to some extent, etc. It's funny to note how depressing my "good days" seem.

So Overlook it is next year. And in certain terms, I couldn't be happier.

It's time to get big, little kid.

Bomb the Blogosphere,
Mike