My wikipedia page was once again rejected today. They sent me the infamous message...
"Your life does not concern anyone but yourself. Please stop trying to create a page detailing your time as the point guard for a basketball team which you refer to as the Los Angeles 'Lackers'."
Well I for one will not stand for this kind of treatment! If they can devote an entire page to "Welcome Back Kotter" in which they have extensive in depth analysis-es of the characters (including episode citations and bold print), then they can at least give me one little page.
As a result I have decided to wreak havoc once again on Wikipedia.
So head on over there and see if you can catch my vandalism...
hint hint a certain French Intellectual's page has a very embarrassing subject-verb disagreement on it now...haha I've done it again!
Monday, November 2, 2009
My Dream
I had this dream last night... I was walking through the hallways
of St. Paul; I couldn't have been more than
ten years old, my head barely above the
lowest tack strip on the light blue brick
walls. My fingers glided across the grooves
of the stone, moving up and down along each
indentation as I walked. No destination,
just walking. That's all I can remember doing
in those halls, never going anywhere, just
going. As I went along I would stop every
couple feet and pull a glop of ticky tack
from the blue bricks. Everyone would do that,
collect the putty from the walls, roll it
up into giant putty balls and chuck them
at each during class. It drove the teachers
crazy, no assignment ever hung on the wall
for more than a week. I reached the end of
the hallway and looked out those big steel
doors, pressing my hands and face against
the glass, feeling the warm sun beams as
they passed through the windows and fell
upon my skin. My eyes closed tight. I saw
it all, the soccer field, the playground,
the parking lot they would herd us all
together on like cows at recess, I felt
the cool breeze of the outside world,
that freedom. I opened my eyelids and
stepped back from the glass, when I
looked down I saw my hand was covered
with ticky tack. As I began to pick it
off, I realized it wasn't just my hand,
the goo covered my entire arm, and the
more I scraped and picked at it, the
more it spread, and soon I was nothing
more than a giant blob of putty standing
at the end of the hall. Stuck in place,
a crude monument of sorts, I had
nothing else to do but melt in the sun...
of St. Paul; I couldn't have been more than
ten years old, my head barely above the
lowest tack strip on the light blue brick
walls. My fingers glided across the grooves
of the stone, moving up and down along each
indentation as I walked. No destination,
just walking. That's all I can remember doing
in those halls, never going anywhere, just
going. As I went along I would stop every
couple feet and pull a glop of ticky tack
from the blue bricks. Everyone would do that,
collect the putty from the walls, roll it
up into giant putty balls and chuck them
at each during class. It drove the teachers
crazy, no assignment ever hung on the wall
for more than a week. I reached the end of
the hallway and looked out those big steel
doors, pressing my hands and face against
the glass, feeling the warm sun beams as
they passed through the windows and fell
upon my skin. My eyes closed tight. I saw
it all, the soccer field, the playground,
the parking lot they would herd us all
together on like cows at recess, I felt
the cool breeze of the outside world,
that freedom. I opened my eyelids and
stepped back from the glass, when I
looked down I saw my hand was covered
with ticky tack. As I began to pick it
off, I realized it wasn't just my hand,
the goo covered my entire arm, and the
more I scraped and picked at it, the
more it spread, and soon I was nothing
more than a giant blob of putty standing
at the end of the hall. Stuck in place,
a crude monument of sorts, I had
nothing else to do but melt in the sun...
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