Wednesday, September 10, 2003
Monday, September 08, 2003
Books meet counter-top with resonant exclamations of relief. Librarian eyes my "abortion tickles" shirt momentarily, quickly concentrating on the texts in front of her as horror passes over her face.
"Write your name in them already..?"
"Yess'm"
"Boy, I sure am glad I don't have to carry these around all day."
"Just do the barcode thing."
"Matthew..."El Diablo"...Louv...
She was obligated by school policy to be unamused.
"It's my real name," I say in tones indicating a life of exasperation with strange parents, "My birth caul caught fire after it fell off of me."
Sixty-something is caught in a state of limbo.
"And this one," she says, indicating an Algebra 2 book with her checkout gun, "Pantaloon O'Saughnessy?"
"That's from my stagecoach robbing days. By the way, are those anatomy books for sale?"
"Next!"
"Write your name in them already..?"
"Yess'm"
"Boy, I sure am glad I don't have to carry these around all day."
"Just do the barcode thing."
"Matthew..."El Diablo"...Louv...
She was obligated by school policy to be unamused.
"It's my real name," I say in tones indicating a life of exasperation with strange parents, "My birth caul caught fire after it fell off of me."
Sixty-something is caught in a state of limbo.
"And this one," she says, indicating an Algebra 2 book with her checkout gun, "Pantaloon O'Saughnessy?"
"That's from my stagecoach robbing days. By the way, are those anatomy books for sale?"
"Next!"
Sunday, September 07, 2003
Saturday, September 06, 2003
Friday, September 05, 2003
Whoo, school. What-a-blast.
I'm in PE with Steven Gordon of dreadlocks fame. In that class we haven't done anything all week but sit for hours on the gym bleachers. Literally. Nothing.
We've all established our own places on the stands, our turf as it were. There are these REALLY COOL guys who sit behind us who are just about the coolest, most badass freshman muthafucka's ever to dominate scripps, who are SO COOL that their vocabularies are developed to a first grade level! Well, they started throwing pieces of paper at Steven and I, which was sad, because we were so eager to be accepted into their inner circle and become cool like them. Then, to rub salt in our wounds, they asked Steven if I was his boyfriend.
"Yeah. He's my boyfriend. We go out."
They laughed amongst themselves, swore.
"No, seriously. We're gay."
Laughter dwindles, they are confused. One of them looks upset.
"Kiss him then."
"No, it's against school rules," I say. "No expressing personal signs of affection. Didn't you read the student handbook?"
"Shit, they're like fags and shit. Hey, why don't you go have sex in the bathroom, gay guys! You're all gay 'n' shit," offers the one with the unibrow.
Even when they find out we're not actually gay (Holy hell! Whod've thought!) they won't let it die.
I wish I were as cool as they are.
I'm in PE with Steven Gordon of dreadlocks fame. In that class we haven't done anything all week but sit for hours on the gym bleachers. Literally. Nothing.
We've all established our own places on the stands, our turf as it were. There are these REALLY COOL guys who sit behind us who are just about the coolest, most badass freshman muthafucka's ever to dominate scripps, who are SO COOL that their vocabularies are developed to a first grade level! Well, they started throwing pieces of paper at Steven and I, which was sad, because we were so eager to be accepted into their inner circle and become cool like them. Then, to rub salt in our wounds, they asked Steven if I was his boyfriend.
"Yeah. He's my boyfriend. We go out."
They laughed amongst themselves, swore.
"No, seriously. We're gay."
Laughter dwindles, they are confused. One of them looks upset.
"Kiss him then."
"No, it's against school rules," I say. "No expressing personal signs of affection. Didn't you read the student handbook?"
"Shit, they're like fags and shit. Hey, why don't you go have sex in the bathroom, gay guys! You're all gay 'n' shit," offers the one with the unibrow.
Even when they find out we're not actually gay (Holy hell! Whod've thought!) they won't let it die.
I wish I were as cool as they are.
Wednesday, September 03, 2003
Friday, August 29, 2003
Thursday, August 28, 2003
Monday, August 25, 2003
Sunday, August 24, 2003
Saturday, August 23, 2003
Exploding Dog
Despite the name, these cartoons are clever, funny and oddly poignant in their poetic simplicity.
Despite the name, these cartoons are clever, funny and oddly poignant in their poetic simplicity.
Wednesday, August 13, 2003
Thursday, August 07, 2003
Monday, August 04, 2003
"The 5th Annual Wine Tasting to benefit girls' field hockey, soccer and softball held in May was a fun evening, This year's event raised over $21,000. We would like to thank our wine sponsors for their generous donations."
So reads an article out of the latest edition of the Scripps Ranch Newsletter, which I have come to regard in the lowest of terms. Before sinking my teeth into that travesty, I have to touch on our beloved school.
What total, utter, sleazy, backhanded hyppocracy! My god! Our sports department is funded by alcohol and yet the administration still puts on frightened faces when they warn us of its vice and danger. Not that I'm endorsing alcohol, much to the contrary; it's just that a little consistancy would be nice. I guess getting drunk is excusable when you're old, rich and it's in the name of children. Wouldn't it be great if there were a "Weed for Water Polo Day"??
And this newsletter, gah. Every issue is written in fear-driven arrogant, authoritarian tones. It sounds like they're terrified of losing the shaky foothold they've made for themselves, like they're trying to stave off the world's frightening, ugly parts. Well, that's impossible, and in the process they're backing themselves farther into a corner. That's it, the writing sounds like a small animal threatened by a predator who has cut off all its means of escape.
"I am happy to say that two resident families, Joyce Berzle and her son, Zach, and Awilda Parada, are stepping in to help with graffiti removal and are gearing up to take over the equipment. Once they are set to go, we can ask them to remove the graffiti that appears. I'm happy to say it is seldom, as we remove it so quickly and deny the "artists" the exposure they want."
How horrifying. This perfectly demonstrates this publication's mission: to try to suppress anything they feel threatens their false sense of security, and how better to do that then to make the very people who represent the "enemy" do their dirty work? Zach Berzle, Mr. ghetto poseur himself, wiping out free expression for his overlords. That's tragically poetic, isn't it.
Think about it, WE are the enemy, at least those of us who haven't succumbed to their message of complacency. I hate to use these "Us and Them" terms, because I don't ever believe that things are that simple, but we, the unimpressed youth of scripps ranch, are in a position to make these people shit themselves with fear. Sure, they'll try to clamp down; they're already fencing in the parks after hours because someone drove their car on the grass. But if you do unthreatening, harmless things just to keep them on their toes, it'll be fun.
I heard about something that happened up in LA; paper plates with smiley faces drawn on them mysteriously started appearing all over the city. No one knew who was doing it, but it made everyone uneasy. Stuff like that will make them run for the hills.
I actually don't want to encourage you to cause damage, I just want you to keep these things in mind and be aware of what kind of suspicion you're placed under every time you set foot outside your door. Every time you go shopping, they ARE watching you, not to sound paranoid. Employees keep track of you because of your age, and if you're dressed in certain colors, or wear certain patterns, or even if your facial expressions look vaguely aggressive, people will not only fear you but try to stay clear of you. Maybe this doesn't happen to girls, but it's a response so programmed into us, just from not being exposed to teenagers for our entire childhoods up until highschool, that even I get a little antsy when I come into contact with a guy my age wearing black. It's programmed in.
So you can either exploit this and use it to your own means through intimidation, or you can do your part to change the way people perceive our demographic by acting generously and in a friendly manner. That's really the only way to make things better for ourselves. Show them that we're not all a bunch of drugged-out maniacs and people will slowly begin to treat you with more respect.
This post isn't so much a call-to-arms, but a wake-up call.
So reads an article out of the latest edition of the Scripps Ranch Newsletter, which I have come to regard in the lowest of terms. Before sinking my teeth into that travesty, I have to touch on our beloved school.
What total, utter, sleazy, backhanded hyppocracy! My god! Our sports department is funded by alcohol and yet the administration still puts on frightened faces when they warn us of its vice and danger. Not that I'm endorsing alcohol, much to the contrary; it's just that a little consistancy would be nice. I guess getting drunk is excusable when you're old, rich and it's in the name of children. Wouldn't it be great if there were a "Weed for Water Polo Day"??
And this newsletter, gah. Every issue is written in fear-driven arrogant, authoritarian tones. It sounds like they're terrified of losing the shaky foothold they've made for themselves, like they're trying to stave off the world's frightening, ugly parts. Well, that's impossible, and in the process they're backing themselves farther into a corner. That's it, the writing sounds like a small animal threatened by a predator who has cut off all its means of escape.
"I am happy to say that two resident families, Joyce Berzle and her son, Zach, and Awilda Parada, are stepping in to help with graffiti removal and are gearing up to take over the equipment. Once they are set to go, we can ask them to remove the graffiti that appears. I'm happy to say it is seldom, as we remove it so quickly and deny the "artists" the exposure they want."
How horrifying. This perfectly demonstrates this publication's mission: to try to suppress anything they feel threatens their false sense of security, and how better to do that then to make the very people who represent the "enemy" do their dirty work? Zach Berzle, Mr. ghetto poseur himself, wiping out free expression for his overlords. That's tragically poetic, isn't it.
Think about it, WE are the enemy, at least those of us who haven't succumbed to their message of complacency. I hate to use these "Us and Them" terms, because I don't ever believe that things are that simple, but we, the unimpressed youth of scripps ranch, are in a position to make these people shit themselves with fear. Sure, they'll try to clamp down; they're already fencing in the parks after hours because someone drove their car on the grass. But if you do unthreatening, harmless things just to keep them on their toes, it'll be fun.
I heard about something that happened up in LA; paper plates with smiley faces drawn on them mysteriously started appearing all over the city. No one knew who was doing it, but it made everyone uneasy. Stuff like that will make them run for the hills.
I actually don't want to encourage you to cause damage, I just want you to keep these things in mind and be aware of what kind of suspicion you're placed under every time you set foot outside your door. Every time you go shopping, they ARE watching you, not to sound paranoid. Employees keep track of you because of your age, and if you're dressed in certain colors, or wear certain patterns, or even if your facial expressions look vaguely aggressive, people will not only fear you but try to stay clear of you. Maybe this doesn't happen to girls, but it's a response so programmed into us, just from not being exposed to teenagers for our entire childhoods up until highschool, that even I get a little antsy when I come into contact with a guy my age wearing black. It's programmed in.
So you can either exploit this and use it to your own means through intimidation, or you can do your part to change the way people perceive our demographic by acting generously and in a friendly manner. That's really the only way to make things better for ourselves. Show them that we're not all a bunch of drugged-out maniacs and people will slowly begin to treat you with more respect.
This post isn't so much a call-to-arms, but a wake-up call.
Saturday, August 02, 2003
This blog is rated:
Guidance may be suggested. Some of your writings may not be suitable for some people. Explicit sex and talk of drug use is basically absent; nudity, if present, is shown in a non-sexual way or isnt full nudity, horror and violence does not exceed moderate levels in your writings.
Guidance may be suggested. Some of your writings may not be suitable for some people. Explicit sex and talk of drug use is basically absent; nudity, if present, is shown in a non-sexual way or isnt full nudity, horror and violence does not exceed moderate levels in your writings.
