There is some yellow paper here and it smells. It smells of white chocolate, dark chocolate, air-conditioned rooms, libraries on winter evenings and sometimes of the old printing press.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Common patterns, I feel like a doorbell
Its all about the same. We three sat there sighing away and I suddenly said, " I thought i was the cheated one and the dumb one and the ugly one, but all face the same." The form remains the same just the content changes. Lou strikes all. Then you are bored and so you decide to pursue the lou-ly's friends and down the drain it goes. Friends turn foes. Friend's parents turn gestapos. Plus it has usual moping. Daily rant is an understatement. There is no angst here! All there is, evaporation. Hot, lava like steam from brains being fried in cold pale yellow classrooms with teachers with a sadistic will to teach! How ignorant and greedy can you get!? First you pretend that you can teach something and enter. Then you actually attempt to teach! Fool, do you not know that these are only master-pupil hierarchies of Krishnamurthy and I use them for nothing else but to impress younger boys in junior classes?! Write others' assignments and you will know how good it feels to work without being told to. I feel like a doorbell with many thumbprints. Pressed too hard, a bit cracked and squeaky.
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