I'm only writing short prose observations of crazy people right now. what is that about? im really accumulating a bunch of them... "crazy veteran on trolley", "blind flute lady", "ms. tired eyes", and on and on. i suppose i am putting my people-watching skills to some good use, but... good use? really? what does an observation peice matter? what does it add to art? does everything have to mean something? Answer: No, no, no, some things are vegetable broth, some things are duck soup. Remember? Yes. I remember.
School related stress right now. That's no good. I really don't believe in it. I can't wait until these college applications are gone gone gone. Maybe this warrants a blues tune.
This morning someone was blasting Hendrix in the hallway at school. A stereo plugged into the wall just sitting there by my locker, didn't seem to belong to anyone. It was there when I left, all untended and loud. Did you know that I listened to all and only Jimi Hendrix for a good few years of my life? Fact.
Today some health food nuts came to CAPA and gave a huge bag of apples to each advisory. I stole the bag for advisory number 304 and ran around the lunchroom throwing them like money. That felt good. Except they weren't actually apples, they were bags of sliced apples that had some additive to keep them looking fresh. Amber said "these don't taste organic".
Oh, and: Pomegranates are native to Afghanistan, Pakistan, Iran, and North India.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment