Back to the freewrite tavern. (fiction)

I wrote a short two-page fiction piece in my journal somewhat recently, so I felt like trying fiction again, especially when I recently came up with the idea, while I was shopping, of a freewrite Tavern. (the "f" shall not be capitalized in this name)

by the way this is only the first part not the whole story. that would be bad
I reserve the right to write the story in free-order fashion, though.

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I tapped in at around 7 PM, taking the shorter route from the department store to the Tavern. The night was illuminated so much by the moon that I could only stare upwards. So I bumped into a few people along the way. The girl who fell into the mud will probably never forgive me.

If you want to get drunk at the freewrite Tavern, you have to pregame. I pregamed at some other hour. They only sell one beer per night per customer (or per customer per night?) if they remember you've already had the first. I don't understand the policy. I don't understand the other policies either. If you're rowdy, they kick you out for two days. Who runs this place?

But I'll admit--I think it's the quirkiness that keeps me coming. You think the idea would get old after awhile, but it doesn't. You'd think that there's something in the air, but there isn't. Love hasn't come up, and perhaps that's because I've been burying it in unread freewrites, like the one I began to write after I came in.

"My wrist extending along this paper has been worn out lately. I am not reading this out loud. Extending along this paper? That doesn't even make sense. Who am" --

People read their freewrites out loud one at a time, and you can listen if you want to, settle in, write if you don't want to listen. Someone blurted out "And the filibuster is wrong," which caught my attention, and I stopped moving my pen. From the phrase I heard, you couldn't tell what his position was, and feeling that my own freewrite was more important than potentially being offended if I kept listening, I put my pen back on the paper again.

-- "Who am I to say that this doesn't make sense though if I don't even know what I'm talking about? New paragraph. Not. Has anyone noticed how often baseball shows are cancelled lately? Even the games' TV broadcasts themselves. I remember when that only happened to the Expos. But now...
I might as well stop here, since with my slow hand tonight this has been four minutes, and I like the four-minutes thing." I stopped.

I stopped but I wasn't listening, either. I was thinking, if you could call it that, but I couldn't seem to remember the last thought I'd have. The surrealists would probably hire me now, I thought, in my mild state of mindlessness. What was I doing here? What wasn't I doing here? Was there anything that I actually could've been doing that was better? At the moment, I couldn't think of anything, and I let it go as I was letting everything else go. Wait, did I pregame? Maybe it was inadequate.

Raising my head to the ceiling, I felt around the floor to test for smoothness. I'm never afraid of splinters. I'm irrational. I finished the test. No splinters, but no smoothness either. Check.

Then they stepped into the building.
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YES

IDIDIT IDIDIT IDIDIT IDIDIT IDIDIT IDID

THIS SEMESTER, I'M OVER YOU!!! DONE!! NO MORE NOTHING!!! HERE I AM!!!! 2008 (NEW YEAR) HERE I COME!!!!!

Let's celebrate by singing Daughtry!!!

Okay maybe let's not!!!

RIME ROWING ROME
ROO RA RACE RARE RAI RELONG

that's my scooby-doo Impression of Daughtry singing "home."

Well, I'm home now. Surf's up!!!

YES

IDIDIT IDIDIT IDIDIT IDIDIT IDIDIT IDID

THIS SEMESTER, I'M OVER YOU!!! DONE!! NO MORE NOTHING!!! HERE I AM!!!! 2008 (NEW YEAR) HERE I COME!!!!!

Let's celebrate by singing Daughtry!!!

Okay maybe let's not!!!

RIME ROWING ROME
ROO RA RACE RARE RAI RELONG

that's my scooby-doo Impression of Daughtry singing "home."

Well, I'm home now. Surf's up!!!

I RAN NQR AGAIN!

Two years in a row, baby! My hands are so numb I can barely type. My dick is not numb because we only ran two laps (that took about 1.5 minutes; seriously was nothing and I don't understand why they didn't want to run more!). I got the NQR 2007 T-shirt. My roommate didn't, as he didn't run: This year, justice is served. (As opposed to last year, where he got a shirt anyway.) Some people are rubbing something against the floor upstairs. Probably fucking. Yesss.

The shrinkage didn't hurt this year; the temperatures were awesome and fucking temperate. 1.5 minutes naked on 1.5 hours of sleep. Does it sound like it rocks? It does. And that's just a commonplace experience now.

Lesson: Even though it's commonplace, it's still very nice!!!

Kish-teen, it'skishmas

Hahaha, I've been listening to Christmas music on YouPlay.fm which is a wonderful site to find an actual awesome and thorough variety of Christmas music - oh my God is that Louis Armstrong??? - yes it is, "Zat You, Santa Claus?" - what an awesome title - and I've been looking at the playlist that they display on the site, and this is just an awesome, quintessentially Dimarchiish typo:

Rudolph, The Red-Noded Reindeer

Merry Chrisics! I mean Merry Christmas!!!

Actually,

Actually, for me, I feel like the semester has ended already. I'm not worried about my French essay (for once!) which I'm about to continue writing (middle of introduction. Yeah, yeah okay). I haven't had to do math since early Friday morning, and both finals will probably be pretty easy as far as those classes go. Japanese presentation looking good, looking sweet. 10-page Japanese Writers paper? Umm... I'll scrounge up something. That's due Wednesday, December 19. I was originally planning on going home Friday, but it's not looking good. This paper used to be due THIS Wednesday, and if it were still due this Wednesday, I'd be screwed or just pressed.

I don't know whether I'm going to run NQR this year. It's really fun, but I don't know what my status will be at 11 PM tomorrow night. I might have all-nightered by then, which would be very, very bad for my health combined with running naked in approximately 20º weather. Let me tell you, the shrinkage actually hurts.

I didn't accomplish what I thought I was going to accomplish, or what I thought I was going to try to accomplish. Good enough, though.

One thing I have noticed, though, is that a lot of people around me (and not me) are going through rough-ASS times. Wish I were there, wish I would go.

Wait-- in a tone non-sarcastic: that's what winter break is for!

I hate writing online because tone does not come out properly. Okay, I don't hate writing online, but you know what I mean. So much is lost in this pop-culture space. That's the benefit of things being written out in hand: they're more respected and more likely to be taken from multiple points of view at the same time by a single reader. And of course, the greatness of reading things out loud.

Faut qu'on y pense !

Well.

How the fuck did I not get anything done today? I tried; honest, I tried! I even got my TI-83 calculator stolen. Yes, the one you and you and YOU and I had from freshman year of prep school. Such a stupid, pointless day.

I'm not going to bother going over the list of shit I have to do. All I know is that I have to take real analysis II next semester if I want my senior year schedule to be easy. I had better have a good senior year. This class annoys the hell out of me. I guess I'll just deal with the fact that the problem sets break my balls, because the tests certainly don't, for whatever reason.

I can't pull an all-nighter from Sunday night to Monday morning. Because that's NQR day. The last thing I want is to faint from exhaustion while naked outdoors in the winter cold. Or to catch pneumonia from running naked after pulling an all-nighter. Shit. I better get my work done now.

This is so funny, and so not funny.

Let's see: what's beautiful, what's creative, what have I created recently? Nothing, really. It sucks. I feel like math is sucking the jizz out of my balls intravenously. Is that even possible? My real analysis class would tell me to disprove it. I don't want to have to disprove it, thanks.

In any case, I'm very aggravated at the lack of opportunity to be creative in my classes. Actually, I think it's ALL math's fault. Whatever. I want to take only 4 classes next semester. Let's see whether I do. Someone owes me back big time for this stupid semester. The last one looks godly in comparison; LORDly even.

Ugh; my room is so boring, undecorated and dreary, too. I forgot to get Christmas decorations over the weekend. I guess there goes that, for now.

Next Christmas. This dorm sucks so much. Can't wait to live off campus, no matter whether it's here or abroad. By the way, I'm thinking of cutting down to one semester only but there's no point in spending more time at Tufts than I have to, really. FUCK THIS