“Buying books is immensely comforting. Maybe I won’t read them immediately, but they make me feel so much better whenever I’m sad and blue. Just their presence, it’s like having more to look forward to.”—vagabond
n. the temptation to step off your career track and become a shepherd in the mountains, following your flock between pastures with a sheepdog and a rifle, watching storms at dusk from the doorway of a small cabin, just the kind of hypnotic diversion that allows your thoughts to make a break for it and wander back to their cubicles in the city.
Saturday alone: Woke up (not hungover!) to a chinese food picnic with pretty much all of my friends to a chinese food picnic at their fraternity. 2pm: Alumni and student homebrew tasting, generous portions and shooting shit with old guys who are huge beer dorks. This later turns into a absinthe and moonshine tasting courtesy of my closest chemical engineering friends. No one went blind, just got pretty drunk. 9 of us then picked up and went frisbee golfing with a backpack full of beer and a bag of franzia. It was pretty much a mob of people walking and throwing shit. After that, hit up a bar at about 6. Drank lots of free beer from alumni. Almost didn’t get in because the person at the door had never seen a non-drivers license before… and lets face it, I look like I’m in highschool. Walked across the street about 10 where some cover band was playing made up of ‘91 alumni. We sit down and an alumni walks up to 4 of us, throws $60 on the table and says, “drinks are on me, have fun.” Discovered that they serve white russians in pint glasses. My machine design prof showed up, fairly drunk, grinded with his wife a lot. I was less than discrete in taking pictures to send to friends. He came over to give my friends and I shit for not dancing. As he walks up my friend thinks it’d be hilarious to push me into him, to which his immediate reaction was to throw his hands up in a “I didn’t touch her!” manner as I would expect from any drunk engineering prof at a school that is 80% guys. We proceeded to dance with him to the Bad Touch by the Bloodhound Gang as covered by said alumni band. Super classy. Eventually we ran down the $60 so we didn’t have enough to buy another round. We left the bar to head to friends’ frat house, but not before stopping at the gas station to pick up 40s of High Life with our leftover money. Partied (yeah, using it as a verb) the rest of the night. Met alumni (no one who could give me a job though :( ). Didn’t meet alumni’s girlfriend, a tiny asian chick of questionable age who we loving referred to as “tits” based on her well-advertised fake tits. Stared at her a lot though. A group of my friends left to go to his place to smoke, one wandered back later high out of his mind and was nothing short of amazed that he found his way back. I still have a weed tootsie roll a friend gave me from Boulder, medical grade which he got for a “sprained shoulder”. I guess that is next weekend. Again, woke up without a hangover (small miracles). Finished off the amazing weekend with an Indian buffet for lunch. Fucking great weekend.
“Capital punishment is the most premeditated of murders, to which no criminal’s deed, however calculated, can be compared. For there to be an equivalency, the death penalty would have to punish a criminal who had warned his victim of the date on which he would inflict a horrible death on him and who, from that moment onward, had confined him at his mercy for months. Such a monster is not to be encountered in private life.”—