Hyperventilation Station

My days are packed so densely I’m like the person who’s cramming hotdogs at a hotdog eating contest, only the hotdogs are English literature and Computer Science essays. I write with a pain in my lower back and I’m getting ready to go do a thousand sit-ups to build my back muscles…maybe tomorrow. Through my walks through downtown (downtown is essential to life here), I still remain blogger on alert, and I couldn’t help but notice how artsy and the graffiti is compared from before; the scene is a lot less hospitable where I was:

For the most part I’m glad I left, but my living situation is wearing me thin. Surprised? Thought so, since how everyone knows who remotely knows anything about my “situations” know that rarely is anything actually not sucking. But I have my hopes! My goals! Things that are out there that…they really are…they’re going to materialize…after all of these fucking years!!!! By the time I get anything I’ll be too old, but hey that’s life, right? At least I’ll be able to pay for a nice grave to snuggle into. Have you ever become so disgruntled, so aggravated, so inflamed, so annoyed, so confounded with life that you just can’t help but sit back and sort of laugh about it for a moment?

Fall is beautiful here; the leaves are golden and damp with a fresh rain, and I can’t help but feel something good.

Back at the cave, my tiny, dinky little cave of a room I live in now, I’m so immersed in this stuff that it’s not funny, I’m becoming a bit of a crab-apple. I don’t have to go out this far, but the grade…the darned grade damned it.

Chaucer’s fancy and weird English dialect is keeping me occupied with subtle meanings and translations and stories of old time fictions that may or may not have happened. But see the orange peeking out from the music stand? That be a Bach book it be.

In any case, can you see what’s going on with this Chaucer stuff? See what I’m up against here:

To the luscious mat on the floor I go.

This entry was posted in life, personal, photos, Psychology, random, Uncategorized, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Hyperventilation Station

  1. artmodel says:

    Wow, that Chaucer jarred memories of my college English major days! I remember doing quite well understanding and interpreting The Canterbury Tales. But looking at it just now on your blog, I feel strangely repulsed. Weird!

    Do you take requests, LK? If so, can you post a page of Shakespeare next time? Preferably King Lear 🙂


  2. LK says:

    Your repulsion is utterly justified my dear friend. I’m getting a real headache over here, but after I get used to it, it’s kind of interesting…I suppose.

    Do I take request? You bet, and Shakespeare classes are on the way…

    Didn’t know you studied English. So that explains your exquisite writing abilities…mmm…

    So nice to see from you!

  3. woowooteacup says:

    I am a huge fan of artistic graffiti (although I can never remember how to spell the word – one “f” or two? one “t” or two?). I’m even okay with artistic graffiti being where it’s not supposed to be. That’s a great part of its charm – the unexpectedness.

  4. LK says:

    I still rely on spell check for grafitti..or graffitt…I give up too…

    The artistic graffiti argument is well taken; if someone takes the effort to make the art decent, taking the extra time in face of the danger of getting caught by lingering around to outline details, then by goodness, cherish that art God-blasted…

    Have a Happy Thanksgiving!

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