Lots of happy jumping and dancing and squeaking and yelling goin’ on ’round herr. I dun got my license this morning. Clear the damn roads. I’m not even going to complain about the five hours I spent at the DMV yesterday only to find out I couldn’t even take my road test. It’s all good, baby. Got to hang out some with Dulin last night, as we rented the second Lord of the Rings, then drove to the theater to see the third one. I’d be lying my ass off if I said I found the movie all good and cute and fun. It’s been said (link courtesy of Dru…

The above are (thank goodness) much less related than one would think. I departed the family abode Tuesday afternoon to hang out with Michael in his spiffy new (to him) Astro-something van. Our friend Rackrent was stuck at home baby-sitting her sick brother, so we dropped by to visit and give her my Christmas gift. Somehow, she ended up coming with us on our fun and aimless journey–the more the merrier, I say. Well, to a certain extent. But her presence was welcome. It was decided, sometime after picking Rackrent up and purchasing a Christmas gift for a family member of Michael’s, that we simply must hit The Melting Pot…

Ain’t it always? I threw up a new About Page yesterday… well, last night while doing the Thorn. The idea of a descriptive alphabet was new to me (and to the tired About page), so I figured I’d try it. [Listening to “Carnival” [Tori Amos / Mission Impossible 2 [Soundtrack]]]

Yesterday morning, someone began to seriously toe the line of friendliness versus sexual harrassment with me. He’s a nice guy–we say hello whenever we see each other and he asks how my day is going. If he seemed to fixate a bit, I chalked it up to the fact that he seemed to be a bit… I don’t even know what the politically correct term is–“developmentally challenged”, perhaps? Slightly retarded, in other words. Yesterday morning, however, while I was getting breakfast, he came up to me and began to make really odd comments, on repeat. The conversation began innocuously enough: questions about where I was spending break, if I was…

If I can write that many words in 16 days on this website (not counting this), why can’t I muster the passion to write 1200 measly words on Letters from an American Farmer? I can’t keep betting “the next one” is going to be more interesting, because then I’ll be thoroughly fooked at the end of the term. I will definitely be writing on Walt Whitman’s “Song of Myself”, though. I’m going to change my position on Whitman a bit, as “Song of Myself” redeemed him in my eyes. Some parts I really liked: the areas describing war, one particular way he described a slave that was beautiful, and, most…