Prolifico

6182 | March 30, 2005

Okay hey. Everyone. I’ve come back from spring break, and I’ve forgotten how to use proper punctuation. It has to do with my lack of speaking. I really didn’t speak that much. I didn’t do that much. I didn’t see that much. I heard a lot. I thought a lot. I played a lot. I guess playing counts as doing, but doing over “break” usually means “going” somewhere. The only destination I traveled to was the fantastic world provided by playstation 2, and BBC noticias en espanol. So it translates into a lot of periods. Which I know how to use, but everything else is sort of weak right now.

So I’m up without the aid of my alarm clock. Why? It’s because my best friend, our sun, Mr. Sol, has decided to come pouring through my window, blinds closed and all. It’s really a fantastic thing. If it was like this for the entire year, 8:00 am classes would be a fucking cinch. However, we are going to kill Mr. Sol with a thing known as Daylight Saving Time. Instead of pouring through my window at 6:50 am, he will be pouring through at 7:50, and my alarm will have to be my waking buddy.

That’s sad really. I and I cherish the time spend with Mr. Sol in the mornings. He’s so warm, and yellow and beautiful day inducing. I can’t make eye contact him with him very often, so I bet he thinks I’m shy. But in reality, I’d love to look at him. I’d love to get close to him, feel his gravitational potential energy a little bit more, but with my crazy skin, I’d think he take all of my desperately needed moisture.

I fear that I’m typing too loud and am waking up my roommate. But it’s a laptop, and it’s better than a real keyboard. That would be annoying, teehee. teehee.

As the day wears on. Mr. Sol’s effect ceases to work on me, and I get tired. Mr. Sol cannot keep me awake, and neither can my job. So I close my eyes, and return to the darkness. It’s dangerous when I do this during important things, like work, or Physics, the afternoon things. This is reason enough for the invention and proctored use of caffeine. Mmm. My second friend. My fuel. My lover. Without him, and I admit, I sometimes go hours without him, I would be out on the street, babbling about linear momentum, and how all of mankind’s problems are caused by our irregular calendar, and we should free ourselves from the restraint of our Gregorian shackles, or some barmy bullshit. Hey you know what if I threw out all of my watches, made sure my computers never showed me the time, and avoided clocks? Life would be a comedy.

random colleague: “What time should we meet up?” “Hey man, what time should we meet up to finish the project?”
Me (spacing): “What? Oh, sorry I don’t do time anymore”
Me: “You know, I’ve been wondering, what the fuck are you supposed to with bic pencils when their erasers become unremovable? They’re supposed to be fucking machines man, mechanical man. They don’t die, like us. That’s fucking sad.”
r.c. : “what. the. fuck. are you joking?”
Me: “Like…*sigh* *bursts into tears for the pencils*”

Shit like that. I could write a textbook on the consequences of not having spacetime. No, actually I reallly couldn’t.

When night comes, and Dr. Luna comes to do his thing, it’s also equally as beautiful. I can look at him because he doesn’t hurt me whenever I do. I admire his beauty, and consider changing my major to something that would let me study him a lot more. He does some interesting things like change his clothes. Some days he wears his crescent. Either waning or waxing, he has his weeks. Other times, it’s his gibbous. He looks fat then though. And sometimes. He is half, and full/new. So hot. Yet. cold? Sometimes he and Mr. Sol share the sky, and deep down inside, I know that I love life. and I love the universe, and I want to know everything that’s possible to know about it while I’m still here. School isn’t…telling me the answers I want though.

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