Buzzbuzz, Halogen Bulb!
Salut, O Faithful Danforthians!
Will you join me in lamenting the downfall of what was once a peaceful autumn season?
I hope that it shall not forever be so marred with those choking strings of dread...
Alas! I am free from all worry (or most. Or at least the superfluous ones that consume
the majority of my attempts at conversation) as I sit in this oh-so-bizarre and oh-so-Olinesque coffeeshop-computer lab in some sequestered old hallway of the Ohio State University's library. I patiently await the ripping of required listening albums for my Comparative Studies course, and these lovely computers charge on like stale steam engines. I am buried to my teeth in Delta blues and Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson and so many other strange, romantic-sounding things (wholly irreconcilable with the fiery passion of Hamilton and the indeniable dullness of lysosomes and Le Chatelier!) and am thus driven back all the more fiercely to those bright memories of our times near the Old Stinking Mississippi.
Michigan was absolutely wonderful beyond the telling. There was Sarah my darling roommate with her bright eyes and Norwegian glory and sherry-imbibing principles (I willn't phone your mother!), and lovelylovely Josh who, I assure you, bounded up and leapt down stairs with the same sense of daring and ease that was so liberally enacted on our fondest Danforth staircase. And then came Emily, the delayed third in our not-quite complete suite unit, with far longer hair and quiet wisdom and a cake with perplexing masses of pistachio shavings stuck to the outside. BACCHANALIAN PROPENSITIES, I tell you! (Switch from rrrrrr-ip to burn.) Oh, it was delightful beyond words, and I promise you all, if you still cling to golden notions of the substantive glory of our days in July, it all comes back. Right away. And nothing big or impossible changes. So we all must have reunions. More and many, and veryverysoon. At Ye Olde Swarthmore?
But, Dieu! I am pulled back into the flickering halogen bulblights of reality
as the computer (dreaded beast. destroy them all. hail the luddite counterrevolution!)
tells me again and again that it does not have a CD burner. Despite the twenty-seven
minutes the OSU technician and lovely computer spent coaxing me to rip. Despite
the glory of my unprecedented burst of patience. Despite the obvious occurence of a CONJUNCTION of my happiness with computer use. Technology has no heart.
So I am off again, bound for some delightful 24-hour lab named "BAKER!" that promises
a more reliable system of illegal music consumption. Wish me luck, or at least eloquence, so that I can channel all of this vexation into some raw essay for the fond readers of U.Chicago.
Chin-up, loves. There's a better world a-comin, don't you know?
I am missing you x 3.14 + the answer to the difficult calculus problem that is "DNE."
Dearly,
Captain Gesso & Her Sorry Borrowed Dell
Will you join me in lamenting the downfall of what was once a peaceful autumn season?
I hope that it shall not forever be so marred with those choking strings of dread...
Alas! I am free from all worry (or most. Or at least the superfluous ones that consume
the majority of my attempts at conversation) as I sit in this oh-so-bizarre and oh-so-Olinesque coffeeshop-computer lab in some sequestered old hallway of the Ohio State University's library. I patiently await the ripping of required listening albums for my Comparative Studies course, and these lovely computers charge on like stale steam engines. I am buried to my teeth in Delta blues and Muddy Waters and Robert Johnson and so many other strange, romantic-sounding things (wholly irreconcilable with the fiery passion of Hamilton and the indeniable dullness of lysosomes and Le Chatelier!) and am thus driven back all the more fiercely to those bright memories of our times near the Old Stinking Mississippi.
Michigan was absolutely wonderful beyond the telling. There was Sarah my darling roommate with her bright eyes and Norwegian glory and sherry-imbibing principles (I willn't phone your mother!), and lovelylovely Josh who, I assure you, bounded up and leapt down stairs with the same sense of daring and ease that was so liberally enacted on our fondest Danforth staircase. And then came Emily, the delayed third in our not-quite complete suite unit, with far longer hair and quiet wisdom and a cake with perplexing masses of pistachio shavings stuck to the outside. BACCHANALIAN PROPENSITIES, I tell you! (Switch from rrrrrr-ip to burn.) Oh, it was delightful beyond words, and I promise you all, if you still cling to golden notions of the substantive glory of our days in July, it all comes back. Right away. And nothing big or impossible changes. So we all must have reunions. More and many, and veryverysoon. At Ye Olde Swarthmore?
But, Dieu! I am pulled back into the flickering halogen bulblights of reality
as the computer (dreaded beast. destroy them all. hail the luddite counterrevolution!)
tells me again and again that it does not have a CD burner. Despite the twenty-seven
minutes the OSU technician and lovely computer spent coaxing me to rip. Despite
the glory of my unprecedented burst of patience. Despite the obvious occurence of a CONJUNCTION of my happiness with computer use. Technology has no heart.
So I am off again, bound for some delightful 24-hour lab named "BAKER!" that promises
a more reliable system of illegal music consumption. Wish me luck, or at least eloquence, so that I can channel all of this vexation into some raw essay for the fond readers of U.Chicago.
Chin-up, loves. There's a better world a-comin, don't you know?
I am missing you x 3.14 + the answer to the difficult calculus problem that is "DNE."
Dearly,
Captain Gesso & Her Sorry Borrowed Dell
posted by goodbye, goodbye at 2:53 PM
1 Comments:
Hah, that reminds me of when we were joking around with a video game-addicted friend of ours:
"Hey Shawn, what's the ratio of your time playing halo to your time doing homework? Undefined?"
...I don't know why that reminded me of that. :P
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