The Fucks

The fucks that forgot to put knobs in our doors came back again while I was sleeping.
They always come before eleven to make a ruckus in my kitchen.
One time it pushed Matt into my bed.

The Metamorphosis

I am now freed of all constraints binding me to my sub-basement with all of its red lights and Basils. It all happened thusly:
I was sitting on the window ledge, peering outside at a car tire through the screen. Noting that this feeble looking object was the only barrier to my proper state of nature, a plan began to formulate inside my cute little head. I quickly surveyed my surroundings - Kyle was standing around the room looking blank at the time - he didn't pose any sort of threat - so I nonchcalantly started batting at the screen in an attempt to loosen it enough to slink myself out. It didn't work very well, not having opposable thumbs unlike my comrade, Thumbs (may he live a long and happy life), and I was forced to take a step back and analyze the situation from a fresh perspective.

While thinking hard about what my next steps would be, I observed that some bugs were flying inside, attracted by the absurd and track-lighting, through a rather large hole in the screen. I thought to myself, "Why, look at that Dirk! If those bugs can get in and out through a hole in the screen, there's no reason that you shouldn't be able to." I admit that the logic wasn't entirely sound, but it led to my freedom nonetheless. The hole was a little bit too small for me to fit through (after all, I am no Slinky), and I didn't want to resort to damaging anybody's property lest a hefty fine should make its way into my lap.

I left the ledge immediately - confused and conflicted. That night I had terrible nightmares. I was outside, but didn't know where I was. I was lost and terrified of everything that moved. A spotlight comes on - seemingly looking for something - and I realized that the spotlight must be looking for me. I tried to run into a corner, but the corners shrunk away at my approach and the spotlight trailed just behind me. Finally, I began to tire and was forced to slow down and let the spotlight find me. It did, and with it came a police officer handing me a ticket. "Dirk, this is for you." I opened it. Kitty-hands shaking. "Three million dollars for a screen!!? I don't have three million dollars!" "That's too bad, Dirk. Maybe next time you won't break that screen." I woke up in a cold sweat.

I was scared, but still wanted to go outside. The next day I read some John Locke to see what he'd say about my situation. As I read, I began to feel a sense of outrage, of injustice. Am I not allowed even the smallest liberty? I must revolt. And with that, I strode confidently to the window, gently peeled the screen back and scuttled outside. The moment has since become one of my proudest. I have absolutely no regrets about it. If, as in Nietzsche, I were forced to live my life over and over again, I would be honoured to commit that particular offence for eternity.

My little heart is brimming with joy. Mine cup hast filleth. Justice is not a myth, for she exists.

At a Cafe in Burlington

So I'm sitting here, in Burlington, looking up how to do calculus on the internet because I don't have my roomies here to help me. There's actually a great wiki textbook on calculus (or it's great so far in its description of functions). So there I am - on the internet in Muddy Waters - concentrating hard - and this dude starts talking about his career as a camp counselor or something mundane like that. And he's talking for like 30 minutes and I'm thinking "OK, this is like an interview or something", but he doesn't stop, and then the girl that he's talking to tries to say something or relate to him in some way and he responds "No, it's not really like that" before going on for another 15 minutes, so I figured that it probably isn't an interview. Then I leave to go to Burlington Records...to pick up some records.

I came back 45 minutes later and he was doing the same thing to the same poor girl. It may have gone on all night. I'm not sure, I left a little bit later.

Fast forward to today. This middle-aged guy is monologuing to this girl about how he used to play minor roles in Shakespeare plays at UVM when he was 14 or something. This also went on for at least 30 minutes during which his poor girl said not much, either. Turns out that this was an interview, though. But at the same time, he was the interviewer.

So, if you want the opportunity to speech about yourself to poor girls in Burlington, then I highly suggest Muddy Waters on Main. They have great coffee and play nothing but The Beatles and Pink Floyd like the rest of UVM.

But seriously, I really do like the cafe.

Miss you Dirk!!