I SWEAR TO YOU, THIS IS THE END OF MANIC POSTINGS! So hold your lovely breaths and take it in. And lest any of us would ever stoop to forget the Illustrious Danforth Log (Stump?) which greeted us every morning, eve and afternoon just before and after the stately howling of the alarm system designed to ensure an active social life for the campus police-force...ALL HAIL DANFORTH STUMP, symbol of the severed glory of St. Louis! (And now, because I fear I've made a dreadful visual mess of our once clean-looking blog, I will flee off into the realms of my own corporeal mess--room, laundry, scattered books, etc.! If I work up the patience, I will try to make all of this look better!) Love Dearly, Everyone's-Favorite-Future-ResTech-Employee-Jessi.
posted by goodbye, goodbye at 9:48 AM
4 Comments:
hey i drove last night! in the dark! apparently, that's illegal, but oh well. im getting better! i swear!
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Oh, My Loves,
HOME! We used to call that silly shelled-out waxy-floored dorm our home. I shall forever remember the way that the carpeting felt on those hidden outer sets of stairs whilst running in pursuit of David-the-Hunter-chasing-Lee-as-some-strange-embodiment-of-The-Frog, and how only two of those tiny barlamps in the Study really worked at all! This, however, goes without mentioning the delightful and always-mysterious stickness of our unwashed kitchen floor, and the comforting wetness of the Lounge carpet in front of the couches--so many indications of debauchery, and so vibrant a pulse of life! O! Here in my own dear home, the floors are always washed, and The Family finds no romance in my stuff strewn about. I cannot yet bear to put our TASP murals on my bedroom walls, for if they are not in need of completion (and thank ye kindly, Doug, with your quick marker and eager-but-deranger mind on those final evenings!), there is no more prodding on the part of this former & wholly inefficient Co-Chair of ComComCom, and I shall have to resign myself to life as Jessi without concern for the aesthetic betterment and general quirkification of the group.
Ach, these canyons of memory that we, bold of heart, must try to store away! I am off to drown my sorrows in continued study of the early life of that strapping lad known as John Dewey. All hail the Danforth Stump, and all the rest hail Vermont Transcendentalism.
With All Love
and a Bit of Consumption,
Jessi
Post-Script: Ah, Jake, my dear friend of Gibraltar and the-condemnation-of-States and so many other ringing generalizations that my ears now cry to hear! Yesyes, your worst fears have been realized--Somehow, perhaps by the overarching grace of some Promethean deity, or perhaps by the collective goodwill of the TASPers holding their breath for me, passed the test. THIS MEANS THAT I DID NOT MASSACRE AN ORANGE CONE. With twenty-two points deducted and twenty-six points off indicating clear & present failure, I would assure you--I am a safe and comforting presence on Ohio's roadways. And when I decide to enact my long-planned trip to rendez-vous with our East Coast Counterparts, I'll be sure to ask Amy & Nisha (changing spots in the Driver's Seat, surely, whenever the other one is tired) to meet me half-way.
And you, my dear boy, can have the empty spot in the passenger's seat. See? No fear requisite!
Post-Post-Script: And my SarahsarahRoommateLove! Ah! There are so many beautiful and heart-rending photographs of yourself and your blueblue eyes looking all electric with the crying, and they are not horrible ("hahribble," New Yorkers?) but wonderful and sosotrue and I did not post them just as I did not post the photographs of a good number of us hugging goodbye--it is still too soon and too painful to me to think that any of this has yet ended. Just as soon as I think I have come to terms with what can only be termed the "goneness," another pang flares up and the void rips a few acres wider. I am so very glad that I took a few photographs in the end. How I wish I would have started earlier, and with a gusto driven by something other than the coming of the end!
But I suppose there is a certain wholly-TASP charm in having survived the effective Apocalypse, and forming blogs to tell the tale...
And oh! Errors abound! Insert an "I" subject pronoun in the first of the Post-Scripts dealing with the passing of the tests. Forgive my negligence, TASPers! O, English language!
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