Dinosaurs

Finally, a plausible explanation to how dinosaurs became extinct. That whole "ice age" thing is absurd. If they froze, how did they end up underground? And, wouldn't they have just woken up when they thawed? It's a bunch of hogwash.

Penultimate: Sounds a lot cooler than it actually is

It's almost over; the penultimate semester of my college career is almost at an end. This is by far the strangest feeling I've ever felt, like a mixture of pure, heavenly joy and total, annihilating, all-consuming terror. On the one hand, I will be done with school forever (unless, of course, I later decide I need some other degree), and so will finally be freed from the millions of trivial exercises disguised as learning that have plagued me for all of these years. But then on the other hand lies a some sort of box, the contents of which I don't know. It could be a treasure chest, filled with a job as an editorial assistant in New York and the opportunity to publish all sorts of amazing new books; or it could be Pandora's box, filled with a dead-end waitressing job that holds nothing but never-ending stretches of the same bad country playlist and whiny customers complaining that they never got their side of ranch. I'm terrified and I'm excited in a way that could only be described as sublime, except, instead of the power of nature inspiring my terror, it is the power of modern society and the treacherous depths of the American workforce.
I haven't written any poetry in quite a while, but after hearing Sara and Anderson read last week, I felt pulled back to writing, so here's something.

Winter

He's up there laughing, alright. Look at him, all big and yellow and silly. "It's not very funny down here," I shout, but he takes no notice. "My hands and feet are frozen, you big jerk. Have you ever tried walking to class on ice blocks? It's not easy!" He acts like he can't hear me, like just because he's a big ball of fire and exploding gas suddenly his ears don't work, but I know what's what. All day, he just sits up there staring at us, not sharing any of that heat that I know he's got bottled up in the hall closet. A few months ago he was handing it out like a Jehovah's Witness with a quota to meet and pamphlets piling up, but now he's just being plain stingy. Probably because he thinks it's funny to watch me try to light a cigarette with ice cube fingers. Well, I'm not laughing. I'll get him back; one of these days, BANG, ZOOM, straight to the moon with him. Then he'll be sorry; that blue cheese stench is enough to choke a horse.

And, as has been my pattern, here's a song.
12:59 Lullaby Song, Bedouin Soundclash

Where is Craig? Gary and Steve Go to Auburn

Another milestone has come and gone. The last Georgia-Auburn game of my college career is over and the Bulldogs managed to choke. Honestly, it's really not that surprising, considering how we've been playing all year, but they really messed with my emotions that first half. That wasn't really the highlight of the weekend, though. Friday night was fun, yesterday was silly (as is usual when large amounts of day drinking are involved), but last night and today really made the weekend a success. At the bar last night, I'm pretty sure I made a scene. It's pretty fuzzy, but at one point I know I was standing behind a guy that Caroline was talking to, pointing and flailing and mouthing, "He's so cute, I love him, you should date him." Then he turned around and I tried to pretend I was dancing; I don't think he bought it. Caroline received a text from Michelle saying, "Key understand. Clean up go to bed." Michelle had not been drinking at all. While waiting for Michelle to come get us, someone (probably a drunk, obnoxious Georgia fan) set the toilet-paper covered Toomer's Corner oak trees on fire, hence why it makes no sense at all to roll your own campus. Don't worry, Perrin and Caroline got pictures. Also while waiting for Michelle, Sarah picked up some random dude named Doug, so obviously I had to sing "What do tigers dream of", especially the refrain of "Dougy Doug Dougy Dougy Doug Doug." I think he really liked it. At lunch/brunch/meal time today, as we discussed Caroline's inability to pay attention to anything else when a TV is on, Caroline described her active watching of TV shows by asking sample questions. "What's going on? Where is Craig?" We not only found this funny because of Caroline's voice and general joviality, but because of the specific use of the name Craig. It is just random enough to be completely silly, yet ordinary enough to sort of make sense. After lunch, on the way back to Caroline's, I put on part of her Halloween costume: a hat made for a dog that looks like a turtle head and thick- framed, black glasses. Then I said a lot of really weird things and basically just pretended to be a turtle. Well, a baby turtle. Named Franklin. When I got out of the car I said, "I'll be back in a minute for your reading lesson!" and then walked really slowly in front of the car. Then Caroline high-fived Michelle for "having such a funny friend." I'm the funny friend. Boom. I may or may not be brain damaged. Now I'm home, watching Harry Potter on ABC Family and stalking the actor who plays Neville Longbottom because he's gotten really hot. Who knew? It's been quite the long weekend, one that really allowed me to display once more how unprepared I am to be an adult. Cin cin to only having to take 4 hours next semester so I can continue on this path of self-destruction. Here's a fun song.
Self-Destructive Zones, Drive-by Truckers

21st Birthday: The Sequel

Well, it's happened. I'm actually 22. Now, I know that's not that old, but in an age where everything happens at an earlier age (kids are learning foreign languages and math in kindergarten, for god's sake), I feel that I should have actually accomplished something by this point in my life. I mean, I'll be graduating in less than 7 months and I really have almost no idea what I want to do with my life. Pretty much as far as I've gotten is that I don't want to live on the street and it would be nice to be able to afford food. I'm having a quarter-life crisis. That's right, yet another thing that's happening earlier in life, an age-based identity crisis. Fantastic. Don't worry, though, just because I'm worried that I'll never get a job/get married/have kids/be a real human being, doesn't mean I've felt the need to mature in my social life. Thursday and Friday night, the night before and night of the dreaded birthday, I acted like a complete and total buffoon. It was like freshman year all over again (not that I ever drank underage, it's illegal and dangerous). I had a fantastic time, and thanks to my absolutely amazing friends whom I love and appreciate, I was in such bad shape that I went to bed at about 10:30 last night. Or maybe I'm just getting old. At least I can still have a good time, even if in the future I probably won't be able to afford to go out and will have to use my welfare checks to get drunk off of codene cough syrup.
In other news, I always use my birthday as the marker of when it's acceptable to start listening to Christmas music and watching Christmas movies, so I'm currently watching Love Actually. Here's one of my personal favorite songs from the movie. And yes, it makes me cry every time.
Both Sides Now, by Joni Mitchell

The World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party

While most people in the country will spend this Friday putting the final touches on their Halloween costumes, I will be on a beach on St. Simons Island, Georgia drinking beer and generally causing a scene. It's finally that time of year once again: GEORGIA v. FLORIDA. I'm not saying this is better than Christmas, but isn't it? The Friday before the game is the one day of the year that hundreds of UGA students get together simply to celebrate being Georgia students. Well, that's not entirely true, but it's the only time we all get together on a beach. It's the World's Largest Outdoor Cocktail Party; how could that not be fun? Actually, it's "frat beach", but as I'm not going to Jacksonville, the actual home of the WLOCP, I'm just going to pretend that SSI is the Cocktail Party (honestly, it's better). Some people opt to go other places on the three day weekend that Michael F. Adams calls our "fall break," but I just can't resist the idea of drinking beer on the beach with 5000 of my closest friends. Who cares that our football team is not exactly top notch? I'm really not going for the football (not to say that I don't love to watch the Dawgs, I just love AC more), hence the no Jacksonville. Why would I pay to ride a bus and sweat all day in the sticky Florida heat amongst thousands of jort-clad Gator fans when I could be sitting in an air-conditioned bar with fellow Bulldog fans? Honestly, the Dawgs might be able to pull out a W, but if and when they do, I'd rather be surrounded by Georgia fans; you never know if one of those swamp dwellers is carrying a rusty shank, and I personally don't want to be around to find out. So, if you're looking to have quite possibly the best weekend of your life, head down to SSI this weekend. Or you can regret it for the rest of your life; it's really up to you.

So, I'm not Very Good at This

Well, I did that whole dramatic "I'm back" post, made all sorts of promises I had no intention of actually keeping, and then promptly ignored the blog for almost 2 weeks. Usually, my lack of ambition and commitment isn't really an issue. But apparently people have started reading my blog (and when I say "people", I mean my brother and my friend Christina), so now I feel like I need to update this guy at least once every week or so, noblesse-oblige and all that.
I got to go home this past weekend, which was lovely. I think my favorite moment was Saturday night, when my parents were mad at Johnston for ditching them the night before, Johnston was mad because he was hungover and wanted to be hanging out with his idiot friends, and I was just generally annoyed with everyone because they were all acting like children. Johnston was also pissed off because he was hungry, but we weren't going to be able to eat until about 9 because Daddy insisted on having grillades and grits, and Johnston didn't want any of the snacks Mama offered him, because apparently he's 6-years-old and would rather just pout. Then we all just drank a bunch of wine and forgot we were mad at each other. Classic Oppenheimer family time. I'm surprised, usually we save that sort of bickering for Christmas, or at least Thanksgiving.
Then I got to make the 6 hour trek back to Athens with Johnston (he was supposed to fly, but our loving mother insisted he ride with me so I wouldn't have to ride by myself), who complained the entire way. I think the key moment of the trip was when we were at a standstill just south of Montgomery, and some douche got out of the van in front of us and started playing with a soccer ball on the side of the rode. I'm pretty sure he thought he looked cool, and I'm pretty sure he didn't. I was already annoyed with traffic, and then some jackass from Gwinnett is trying to show off. I was rather peeved to say the least.
When I got back in town, I got to go have dinner with some lovely folks from Cortona, including our creative writing professor, Laura Solomon. We tried to decide whether to get red or white and, of course, ended up getting both, so the night started off rather well. After a delicious burger from Farm 255, Laura pedaled home, Sara went back to working on her miserable group paper, and Anderson went home to stress about whatever it is that he stresses about, while Jones and I headed off for a bonfire over at Tuna's house. I thought it would be a great idea to stay until 12:30, drinking beer and generally bro-ing around, and now I have to go to Art History with the hippest people in the world who constantly judge me for lack of hipness, highly unpleasant when you're slightly hungover.
Now I've got to go out in the rain and get all of the stuff I left in my car last night. Grand. Oh well, maybe one day I'll learn to make good decisions, until then, here's a song.
Louis XIV, by Louis XIV.

Aaaand I'm back

Well, I haven't posted anything on here in a while, so I thought I'd get on back to it. I got a Twitter and realized that I am entirely too wordy for 140 character limitations, so I'll mostly just use this for all of the hilarity that won't fit on my damn Twitter. And to post music, things that make me giggle, maybe some short prose poetry (if I actually manage to write anything now that I'm back from Italy), and tidbits of what not from here and there.
For some odd reason there have been a lot of Keno commercials on this evening, and I'm not even entirely sure what Keno is, but I know it's mentioned in this B.B. King song.
Never Make Your Move Too Soon.
Guess that's it for now. Peace up, A town down.

I Have a Graceful Leap and Impeccable Grooming Habits

They made me a lieutenant. I wanted to be a captain, but they told me I was all wrong for the job. I calmly explained that my long jump record is better than almost anyone in my troop, and reminded them that I had arranged a very respectable pouch for myself. It can hold up to three wine bottles and a miniature Chihuahua, a regular-sized Chihuahua if the wine is in juice boxes. They just said, “Blah Blah Blah you’re not a kangaroo, captains must be kangaroos Blah Blah Blah.” So I pulled out a machete and got my revenge. Actually, we drank the juice box wine and listened as the regular-sized Chihuahua gave a very eloquent speech on Affirmative Action in Spanish.

Three Stories

Orange Ashtray


Or would it be orange tray? That sounds like a tray of oranges, but these aren’t oranges, they’re ashes. I burned the oranges with the orange tip of my cigarette. Orange plus orange equals fire, more orange, but then fire turns to ash, gray. Gray is not as nice as orange, but things don’t always have to be nice I suppose.




***




A Lesson on the Values of Not Being Picky


The trees are eating the buildings. Or maybe the buildings are eating the trees, I can’t tell from here. Either way I don’t like it. Didn’t their mothers ever tell them it’s rude to eat your neighbors? Unless, of course, your neighbors are green vegetables, in which case you really have no choice. Green vegetables are evil and must be destroyed. Everyone knows that.



***



Emily Post



The trees are stabbing the sky. Not the trees with leaves, they are just cuddling. The trees without leaves are the ones being so violent towards such a lovely blue sky. At first, this seemed quite impolite, for those trees to be poking the sky with their nakedness. Now, it seems obvious how very impolite the sky has been to those trees. He snatched away their pretty green sweaters and they just want them back. The sky thinks he can be a bully because he’s so much bigger, and the trees don’t understand that the only way to respond to a bully is not to respond. Maybe I should tell them, but I won’t, because that would only make them fell stupid, which would be very impolite of me.

The Song Momboo Taught Me When I Was a Child

When I was five, I had three little fishies and a mama fishy too. The mama fishy told the three little fishies to swim, swim if they could, and they swam and they swam all over the dam. But it wasn’t a dam; it was the side of their fishbowl. I found them on the floor looking rather melancholic and dead. Poor little fishies. Maybe they shouldn’t have listened to mama fishy after all; maybe mama fishy wasn’t as smart as they thought. I could have been their Mama, but they wouldn’t let me, as I couldn’t speak their blub blub fishy talk. They never would learn English and now they’re floating in the sewer, not as nice as their bowl castle.