QBAB

QBAB, fools.

What the hell.

Just got back from Avila, after a very successful night. The desk and dresser that Soss and the NFP destroyed with our martial arts skills on Friday made for quite the bonfire, at least after liberal application of flammable liquids. A lot of people are dumb, and say shit like “Wet particle board doesn’t burn that well” or “That desk top has a quarter inch of carcinogenic laminate on it” or “Don’t throw the whole rest of the can of lighter fluid in there are you crazy”. I didn’t have to respond, I just turned and pointed to the ten foot tower of green hissing flames behind me. The fire, and its massive spire of filthy oily smoke, was perfect. As long as you stayed up wind.

And then a lot of fools start asking shit like “Why are you digging that huge hole?”

You know what, if you have to ask why I’m digging a huge hole on the beach at 1 AM on a Sunday morning, you’ll never understand.

Low and behold, though, all the naysayers climbed down in it too. God damn bandwagoners.

Drew also broke a bottle over Soss’s head but it was cool cuz he had a helmet, so no biggy.

All of this coolness stood in stark contrast to the dark hours of the early evening, however. A good portion of my life sucks, and Saturday night was no exception. Studying frantically for midterms in classes that I’m doing dismally in is just not my idea of a good time. I’d much rather be studying than programming, so I guess that’s a bonus, but for whatever reason I was in a foul mood. The kind of pissed off that makes you want to kick over mailboxes or torture the innocent, one of those moods. Hemingway’s A Farewell To Arms and Radjaji’s Operating Systems Concepts are two books which should never be mixed outside of a safe laboratory environment. Trying to tackle the complexities of multi-threaded operating system programming after having your heart laid to waste by Ernest’s creeping tragedy is just stupid. I suppose it’s no wonder that by the time the crew got back from the Ozomatli concert I was grinding my teeth and listening to Kill ‘Em All way too loud.

Downtown last night was a zoo, but nothing out of the ordinary. Spent time with my friends, yelled at people, became increasingly convinced of the absolute uselessness and idiocy of Poly girls, you know, a typical night.

It’s late, and I stray dangerously close to seriousness.

It frustrates me that I spend so much time and energy doing shit that I find tedious, difficult, and meaningless. I hate my major. I hate filling out forms. I hate being perpetually stressed out about the two. I always seem to find such constructive means of escaping my woes, too. I can go read a book or play guitar or hang out for a few hours, and enjoy myself, but I come back and the shit is still there, waiting to be Dealt With. I keep telling myself that, in a few months, I’ll be free of it and able to really get down to something worthwhile. Move to The City, get a meaningless tech job to pay the bills and start doing things I care about. Move to Brazil and teach English while training capoeira day in and day out. Move to Istanbul and sell plums at a fruit stand in an alleyway. Anything.

There are times, friends, when even I, the emotional iceberg, can be brought low. The hole and the fire and the bottles did help, though.

Now it’s late and I’m tired and we’re both sick of complaining. Whining about weaknesses just makes them worse, like scratching at poison oak. It’s time to crash.

What’s cooler than bein’ cool?

See you around.

-T.

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One Response to “QBAB”

  1. Wow, Avila has never sounded so Ice Cold. Just, wow.

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