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Jul. 29th, 2009

Cuba Libre

[Email to Dot]: Fucking Brilliant

To: Diane <drothschild@meridian.edu>
Fr: Lloyd <bpendennis@meridian.edu>
Subject: Fucking Brilliant

I clearly need to declare my major as making friends and influencing people, because I'm just on a fucking roll these days. Next on my list: track down the Dalai Lama and punch him in the nose, then pee on Mother Teresa's grave.

Yeah, so, before you have to hear it through the grapevine or through anyone else, here's a funny story: I found out Herr Not-In-A-Coma was moving out -- supposedly doctor's orders. Oh, and while he's at it, he's throwing a housewarming-slash-welcome back to the awake party. How'd I find out? Well, the same way the rest of campus found out, public post.

Never mind the fucking fact that I'd told Hemi, when I dropped by and saw him in the hospital, that I'd been collecting for the 'welcome back' party since just after he was in the mother-humping accident.

I...maybe I'm off my emotional rocker. Maybe...well, no maybe here; I should have handled it with a cooler head. But I'm already the third wheel puppet in my parent's emotional BS right now. I don't need my (now former) roommate pulling the same bullshit. They've got the leeway of being my god-damn parents, where he's not even come close to earning the right to treat me like that.

So, yeah. I tracked him down at the Ink Noir, and threw the money in his face, and had it out with him in public. Which ended up with him whining that I was treating him like he'd cheated on me. At which point...well, when the straw's already snapped, I'm not sure how you snap it again, but I did a good job of not cracking open his skull like it was an overripe honeydew. Even after he decided that we weren't "done" with the conversation, went outside ahead of me, and tried to force me to spill my guts about what the "real problem" was. And for bonus points, Lucy was there. Because you really want to lose your shit in front of your RA, right?

So...abuse to my knuckles, when you see me? That was me wailing on the wall so I wouldn't touch dumb shit. And I was wearing gloves, so it's not even that bad, just...fuck. Yeah. And for bonus fun, he came by the dorm room after I ran the hell off and soaked my head in the shower. Just to get him to go the hell away, I told him about my parents. I didn't tell him about us: he's got enough ammo there, far as I'm concerned. Lucy came by this morning, to make sure I wasn't trying to hurt myself -- doing her job, and all that -- and got much the same story, with a few more details about there being stuff I wasn't going to tell Hemi. And hey, at least Lucy was satisfied by my tale of woe, and didn't bust my butt with campus authorities or report me for a psych consult.

And for the record? Aside from the wall-punching, the only self-abuse was to my liver, and even that was relatively mild. Just so you don't have to worry.

And after all that, even after coming by with his half-ass apology that pretty much screamed 'still don't get it, but I should jump through this hoop'...he tried to give me the money back so I could keep planning his party. I politely demurred, let's just say.

So...yeah. New major. Or maybe I should just shut the hell up and stop talking to people altogether, with this track record of late. Any vote on the matter?

Soaking his head in a bucket,

Jul. 23rd, 2009

Depth Charge

[Private] (Nice Dream)

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck and fuck.

I hate them. I hate this, but I hate them more. Nice bombshell for the holidays. Merry Christmas, we're getting divorced! Oh, and neither of us is planning to come back to the States anytime soon, so as long as the lawyers don't eat all the money you'll get to keep taking care of your sister. Jesus Christ, right now I'm almost glad she doesn't know what's going on, so she doesn't have to deal with this.

All right. Deep breaths. Logically, unemotionally? I love my parents. Both of them. And if they're not happy together, then yes, please, split the hell up. I suppose I should be glad of a few things. For one, they're at least claiming it's amicable. I don't know how much of that to believe, and it's not like I can see them in person right now to judge for myself, but if it's less fighting, less money wasted in court fights, and most importantly no bullshit attempts to use their children as bargaining chips or weapons against each other? I'll go with it as a bonus.

Maybe I should be more grateful that this is happening after I'm no longer a minor. There's no custody of me to cope with, and it's not like either of them is going to fight over Neela. Though I swear, either of them even thinks about getting out of their responsibilities there and I'll break someone's nose.

Here, I was thinking Christmas actually went well. I mean, I got Dot's 'forgive me for the real present taking too much time' present done in time, the trip to Boston was uneventful, Neela looked good, and nothing blew up. I should know better by now than to trust a holiday.

This is the worst part of it all, I think. The ground's knocked out from under me, and there's no one to throw out a line. Hemi may be out of his coma, but he's still not what I'd call a friend I feel like I can lean on. I don't even know why the hell I told him about Neela, except that it distracted from the bigger looming issues. Well, and after watching a guy in a coma for weeks I admit there's a certain level of bonding. Just...not that deep. I try contacting anyone at home, and Little Miss Stalker is going to make her move I'm just sure. And while I've got other people I'm friendly with, other friends, the list of people I know well enough to start unloading this shit on? Not so long.

Side freak-out: I'm really not sure I'm going to have a home after this. They're not planning to come back. Hence, there's no real need for a house in Miami, now is there? If my Spring Break involves having to drive down to there save my stuff, I may cry.

So...groundless. Except for Dot. Except I'm not so oblivious as to not realize she's got serious issues of her own, on the family front, that I haven't won 'full disclosure' on. And I can't blame her, entirely; we've been going out for just a few months, not everyone trusts at the same rate, and...fuck, I'm the poster child for 'trusting too much too early gets you third degree burns and the need for a restraining order'. And let's be honest: I'm afraid if I dump too much at once, I'm going to fall apart, and she's going to run screaming and rightfully so from the basket case.

Maybe it'd be easier if Hemi hadn't gotten his stupid ass in an accident on Thanksgiving and we could have made it to Boston as planned, but hitting her with Neela and divorcing parents and hence my emotional landslide all at once? I couldn't do it when she was out in California, that's for damn sure. That's really just...not a conversation I wanted to have over the phone, for starters. Hell, more than that, I didn't want to ruin her vacation. What the hell could she have done, anyway, but worry or be distracted by my bullshit when three thousand miles away? And now that we're back, there's...I don't know. Timing sucks, there's rehearsal, getting into new classes, and just...bad luck on the actually 'connecting' front. I still have to give her her proper Christmas present, and the last thing I want to do is couple it with a load of my emotional baggage. Can't win either way, can I?

Fuck. I need a drink.

High and Dry

Yeah, I'm know, I'm no chatty Cathy. What can I say? Things have either been boring or busy, with no room in between. Christmas vacation alone in the dorm? Boring. Classes since vacation ended? Busy. Tack on getting cast in the part I was trying out for (insert a little 'woot!' here), a dash of lousy timing, and the roommate waking up out of his coma, and I'm so swamped I've barely seen Dot (who I still owe the second half of her Christmas present. My I'm a lousy boyfriend these days -- note to self, send flowers), much less anyone else. So if you're not Dot, don't think you're special enough to trump her in line in "need to catch up with." If you are Dot, you can sock me in the nose if need be, and otherwise collect your grovelling (and gift) at the time and place of your choosing. I mean, you go cross-country and get a tan line? I should be more appreciative. Of course, after the first half of your Christmas present, you may just be too damn embarrassed to be seen with me in public or private.

Okay, probably too close to TMI. Back to the grindstone, the collective "you" know where to find me if you need me.

Jun. 6th, 2009


[Email to Dot]: FYI

To: Dot <drothschild@meridian.edu>
Fr: Bill <bpendennis@meridian.edu>
Subject: FYI

About to head back to the hospital. Offered to spell Marcie watching over Hemi, and she actually agreed. If you wanted to drop by without an audience, tonight and tomorrow may be the good times. If not, I'll see you when I survive my next final, and you know where I am if you want.


Jun. 4th, 2009

Vote Dot

Vote Dot!

Friends, there's an injustice brewing, one that has stood unchallenged for far too long. For too many years, the crown of Belle of the GLBTQ Snow Ball has been usurped by the campus sororities. Not content with the Homecoming Crown, they've stolen this crown year after year like England invading France during the Hundred Years' War.

Folks, the gorgeous, the well-adjusted, the "upper crust" of collegiate life have gone too far, and it's time that the freaks and geeks, the strange and bizarre, stood up and said that enough is enough! Do you want to stand meekly by and let them buy the vote again with a fleet of sorority parties, perfect hair, and bonded teeth? HELL NO! When you look back at this day, years from now on St. Crispin's Day, you want to be able to look your children in the eye with pride and say yes, you took a stand! YES, you stood up and said that the status quo should not win unchecked! You took a chance, you voted for the underdog, and you were proud!

That's why I'm asking you all to do the right thing. Do the strange thing. Do the weird and wacky thing -- and vote for Dot Rothschild for Belle of the Snow Ball.

We've even got icons so you can show your support. So download, post in your own journals, and remember: VOTE DOT!

Jun. 2nd, 2009

Devil&#39;s Advocate

[Private] I Have Laid in the Darkness of Doubt

Well. I and my relationship seem to have survived Thanksgiving. I wasn't sure that was going to happen when I agreed to this. Hell, given the givens of what happened, I think it went just about as well as could be expected. Even better, in some respects. And now, for that, I'm going to knock on a block of wood big as the Everglades so that doesn't come back and bite me in the ass.

Good stuff; always the better place to start, I think. That way you work your way downhill, follow the flow of gravity, all that. Mr. Dante Hicks said it best: "That's what life is, a series of down endings." We can just be grateful this story includes no muppets, only dogs arguably allowed to express their physical affection for my girlfriend more openly than I was this weekend. But sometimes, you have to accept that she's just your Fay Wray and let the Beast do his dirty work.

Anyway, so...top of the list: no bloodshed at Thanksgiving itself, though it threatened to spill over a couple of times. Shock of shocks, Hemi himself cut it off at least once. Not what I would have expected from the roomie. Maybe he's mellowing in his old age, or maybe he's just not so easily pegged as I thought. As expected, took some grief from a couple of Hemi's siblings. Not so bad that I felt wounded to the quick or any bullshit like that, nor so bad that it even really bothered me at all. I think, I hope, that I acquitted myself admirably, as they say. Even when I gave the broadside opening to have Marci bash Hemi's chosen major -- smooth as silk, that one, but then I was expecting the attacks to come my way. Which, well, they did as well I guess. Best I could tell, at least, the rest of Hemi's family and Dot's side of the table didn't think I ate too much crow for that one. Though personally, I think I need to deduct points for rambling too much about how "sure" I am of the future, even if it is newspapers.

I was this close from quoting Lloyd, just to see if Dot would choke laughing. If anyone had asked the right question, I would have given in.

Oh, yeah: the food. Turkey was great, stuffing was fabulous, and I snuck seconds of the mincemeat pie. I just had to be sure Dot's stepmother didn't see me doing it -- didn't want anyone thinking I was trying to suck up. Overall, the most chaotic Thanksgiving I've ever been to, but disaster? I don't think it even came close to qualifying.

Friday started out on a high note. Too bad it was, at best, a sixteenth note in the whole movement of the day. Took her until poster three before she started to smile, but mission accomplished on Top Secret Project #1. Called the guys at campus copy, they had everything prepped by the time I got back. My sleep schedule for this week is screwed so I can get out there before dawn, but with everything else it's not like sleep was going to happen anyway. Think she liked the mix too, but she didn't get a chance to really listen before it all fell apart.

Put it off long enough, I guess: Bad stuff. Hemi...Hemi, you bastard. Can't even blame you, given they've confirmed your blood tests were clean, can I? Well, I suppose I can blame you for the timing, but random chance or Gods or whatever the fuck you want to blame wait for no man. Maybe I should blame you for somehow making me care as much as I do, but...hell. Hating you for what you did, what you -do- to Dot would be easy. And I was never much one for easy. I've already had to start banking the cash from your 'get better' tin; once you wake the hell up, it's time for one hell of a rager.

So that nixed plans to introduce my girl to my girl, so to speak. Given the givens, it nixed plans for me to go up alone; I'll just have to see Neela after finals instead on my own. I don't need to throw Dot on that particular loop anyway if I can avoid it. There's enough going on, apparently. Hemi was "subtle" as he always is, but it's pretty obvious that something happened recently to Dot's dad -- who, by the way, seems like a pretty good guy, but it's hard to judge. We got to her place just in time to start the cooking, then it was drive over, food, drive back, and disaster time. There wasn't a whole lot of time for deep, meaningful conversation with the man, though I don't think he hates me on sight, which gives me a start. Dot's never mentioned whatever Hemi was hinting at, but what can I say; it's the quiet boys who notice more than you think.

It makes me wonder, sometimes: how much are we simply stepping around because it's not the right time, or because it's too soon and I (at least) don't want to go scaring her off? Like her Dad being sick. Or calling Barbie "Mom", and not going through the public dance of shoving her away when things were actually bad. Or any of the other little subtle things that aren't worth putting into words. It's not like I'm not equally fucked up in my way, not like I'm not talking about the huge and scary truths. I am so disgustingly good at swallowing the worry, and doing my song-and-clownshoe-dance to distract her for a moment, make her smile for an instant or two, in hopes it's making a bit of difference. I hate that I have no way to know if it's doing any good.

You know what I hate most? The tiny part of me that's grateful for Hemi, because he bought me time. Even if I'd decided to jump in the deep end of the pool anyway, now it's all put off. Tiny corner of my brain, better not meet me in a dark alley.

And then you factor in Byron, the best friend that I never got to meet, and it's just the perfect capper to Winter Semester. I'm kinda glad the roommate is dragging her out to the west coast for the holiday. It's going to be me, an empty dorm, and a couple of day trips to Boston. "Merry Christmas One and All" my fat non-white ass.

May. 31st, 2009

Dark and Stormy

FYI: Hemingway's Condition

I know some people may have seen the mention in The Horizon, and others may be listening to rumors. Just so everyone officially knows what's up, since a) I was visiting Hemi's family for Thanksgiving, and b) I am the man's roommate: late Thursday, he was in a car accident involving a semi truck. Blood tests were negative for both drivers, so no alcohol or drugs were involved; cause, if any, is still being investigated by the police. The truck driver was bruised but otherwise uninjured, and both drivers were alone in their vehicles.

Hemi, on the other hand, was banged up pretty badly. As of this morning, Hemi is still in a coma following surgery, though they've transferred him from ICU to the coma ward at Bartleby General Hospital in stable condition. Family is around, but anyone wanting to visit should check with the hospital for visiting hours and probably try to stagger things so they're not overwhelmed. Flowers and cards can be sent to the hospital care of Ernest Hemingway and they should get to him just fine. As well, I'm sticking a donation can outside our dorm room; anyone who wants to chip in toward the welcome back party, or just drop off anonymous letters or what have you can do so there, and I'll make sure things get to the family as appropriate.

When there's any news, I'll let people know. Until then, just send the big jerk any spare good vibes.

[OOC: The following is posted up first thing Monday morning after Thanksgiving; anyone who ends up dropping anything in the can, just let me know.]

May. 25th, 2009

High Voltage

[Letter to Neela #1]

Dear Brat,

Before you even get started -- I know, I'm a pathetic excuse for an older brother, not fit to walk in your shadow, I should have come back this cycle as a slug only that's disgusting and you'd never deign to be related to a slug, et cetera, et cetera. I should have written months ago, and I know it, and I'm sorry. I was expecting to take a few weeks to get my bearings -- feel the ground under me, so to speak? Only I'm starting to think that the ground never settles in college, and you're constantly having to move at a slow jog, at the very least, if you don't want to get swept up and bowled over. Or maybe it's this college in particular; hard to be sure, without any point of comparison. I just know this isn't what the brochure and "Revenge of the Nerds" movies said it would be.

I haven't decided yet if it's better or worse, though.

Okay, enough groveling. Obviously, I survived the train trip after dropping our no-good parents off at the airport. (Aside: remind me to talk about the care package later.) So far, I have not: been beaten up by any jocks, flashed by any sorority girls, subjected to terrifying hazing rituals, helped to get anyone killed via alcohol poisoning, stolen any team mascots, nor played any wacky pranks on faculty or staff. Disappointing, isn't it? I've also, knock on wood, not been subjected to any surprise "visits" from (read: been forced to obtain a second restraining order against) Miss V. Yeah, I'm not disappointed by that bit either. If I'm lucky, she's ended up throwing herself after some pretty-boy jock at Stanford and she's forgotten all about me. Or forgotten enough that she's not gonna come trying to win me back. One point for college!

Point two for college: classes don't suck. Nothing's really super-challenging yet, but I can see what some other people are doing and see where it'll go. Certainly it's not a perfect world of getting to pick everything you want to learn about and getting to ignore the rest, willy-nilly, and I'm sure I'll run into some truly sucktastic professors sooner than later -- the odds are just against me. But compared to the grinding gears of high school, this is practically the worker's utopia, and it didn't even require bloody revolution in the middle of a Russian winter to achieve. And before you ask, I've still no idea at all what I want to do with myself in the long term, and I'm quite content with that. Why the hell do I have to decide what I'm going to do with the rest of my life -now-? The way the world's changing, the way careers are going, it's not like it's going to be a single job I take that leads to a single narrow career that'll be what I do from now until they decide I'm old enough to retire. It's not a lack of commitment over here, despite what mom and dad think. It's...pragmatic. There's just too many things I want to do to shove myself into a neatly labeled box this early.

Point three: things are definitely not boring around here, I'll give it that. Hell, that's not even factoring in the crazy whirl that was the election and all the on-campus campaign stuff that was going on. Yeah, even I got sucked in...more on why later. Besides that, I've been busy embarrassing our poor father without his knowledge by joining the "Meridian Monkey Troupe" -- yes, that does indeed I'm singing. In public. No, it's not really the drama club, it's more...semi-impromptu guerrilla musical theatre. You know, like a tiny flash mob who can stay on key. Not that I've done much but be a Brechtian pimp for someone's audition piece, but there are plans afoot. I think. That, or I'll just hijack someone in a whale costume at some point and truly make an ass of myself. However it goes, it's been fun so far, and it's likely to stay that way.

Oh, and you'll love this one: apparently, campus is haunted! Namely, one of the dorms I'm not on is supposed to have ghosts. So far, I've just noticed people playing with the lights and singing bad folk songs on Halloween, myself. Far from what I'd call a visit from the other side, huh? A whole little group supposedly got together for a seance or a ghostbusting expedition or -something-, and supposedly some creepy stuff happened. No one I know real well was involved, so details are are as hazy as a magic 8-ball, but it definitely keeps the 'interesting' quotient up around here.

Let's see, what else in the 'broad overview' category...hrm. Food: not as terrible as high school cafeteria, but definitely not what I'd classify as haute cuisine. Accommodations: on the small side, with interesting company (getting to that too), but acceptable. Climate: Terrible. Really, only the Puritans could have landed on this miserable corner of the continent and decided that they should stay rather than, say, sailing further south in search of someplace that might actually be /pleasant/ to live in. I understand the urge to self-flagellate for your supposed sins as much as the next guy, but did they really have to inflict this cold on their sons and daughters, lo, down to seven times seven generations? And we're not even officially into Winter yet. I swear, come February, they're gonna be chipping bits off of me to make drinks because I'm going to be a giant icicle. I should check my Dante, and see exactly which level of Hell this is. At least if I knew, I could get in my sinning now.

Oh yes, speaking of sinning...calm down, I can already picture you covering your eyes and shouting "TMI!" I'm not going to share THAT much detail. But yes: there's a new girl. I think you might actually like this one, she's got a wicked knack for cutting me down to size when I need it. If you believe it, we actually met when I was out hunting for proper attire for the damn weather around here. She was also one of the big Obama campaigners on campus, which is how I got pulled into spending so much of my first two months here pretending to be a political animal. Since they didn't throw me out of the zoo, apparently I pretended just well enough.

To answer the questions before you even ask them: Her name's Dot (short for Dorothy), she's a semi-local girl, she's sharp as a knife, smart, fun, excellent taste in music, and a dervish on roller skates. First official date: Bands for Obama concert, with some truly awesome special guest bands. One 'psycho' ex of her own, but he's a special case. I really do think you'd like her, and not just for the tendency to poke holes in my so-suave act. I know -I- like her, which I assure you still is the important part whatever mom and dad may want to say about it.

And before you go thinking I'm blinded with lust: no, I don't think she's perfect. No one's perfect, after all. Funny story: the 'psycho' ex...turns out to be my roommate. Yeah, no one told me I was starting my own sitcom when I went away to college, either. Neither of us had a damn clue when we arranged that first date, and it nearly went...bad. I put psycho in quotes because he's not, but...well. He's not a bad guy, especially if you avoid the buttons, but the buttons are...let's just say he doesn't have issues so much as subscriptions, to steal a tired joke? But then, hell, who doesn't. And the two of them were apparently together for a -long- time. Like, I get the feeling she was the girl next door when he was growing up.

So there's drama, clearly. But so far there's been no attempts to break my nose, and he's even mostly backed off efforts to snidely and subtly badmouth her around me. Which I appreciate, since otherwise my nose would definitely be broken when I called him on it. Hell, the two of them are genuinely trying to be friends -- or at least, she's trying to be a friend for him. Yes, I can already see you looking skeptical, and no, I don't think this is code for her still being interested in him 'that way' and making her moves on the side while she keeps me strung along. I think the guy genuinely needs all the friends he can get, and that she knows him well enough to pull it off without letting him distract her with bullshit. You know someone that long, I can utterly understand there being feelings, and some sort of awkward friendship thing when your families are friends has to be better than spitty hate and constant drama, right?

Oh. Yeah, heh, funny story: guess who's voluntarily attending the most fucked-up Thanksgiving ever? Yeah, that'd be me! So, the roommate -- Hemi, by the way (and yes, it's a nickname) -- invited me up to his shindig when he found out our lousy parents are still going to be out of the country. Sweet, but we haven't exactly done a huge lot of bonding, to be honest (with the hot girlfriend in the way and all). So I put myself down as a maybe, and then chatted with Dot about the holiday next time I saw her. Not thinking I was going to get an invite -- I'm not that mercenary -- but I figure, we're in college, we're dating, I should at least CHECK to see what her plans are. Seems that, in the meantime, family plans had been worked out...and Dot's Thanksgiving is Hemi's Thanksgiving. It's one big turkey eating it's own tail. I'm expecting awkward silences, a lot of family on both sides giving me grief for being the terrible foreign usurper, and hopefully some good food. I'm also a little worried about Dot, but...fuck.

Okay, side note: I don't know if I should be worried about Dot or not. Okay, I know I should be for drama in general, but either I've picked up the clumsiest girlfriend I've ever had -- which seems unlikely, 'cause she's damn graceful on those skates -- or...or I'm dancing around causing an after-school special. If I'm even right, I don't know if she's even noticed I've noticed, or how to start talking about it, or if I should? It's...yeah. Heh. Sometimes, when I'm briefly delusional, I think I could bring it up with Hemi. And then I get a clue and remember that's probably a terrible damn idea and shove it back in the box.

Anyway, on that distressing and worrisome note, I should wrap this up and head out. Thanks to DramaFest 2008, I'm not sure exactly what my schedule is like since it's kinda out of my hands unexpectedly. If I -can-, I'll swing by to visit this weekend. If not, I promise, I'll see you next. Either way, make them feed you some turkey this weekend, and know that I love you as always, brat. I'll share the rest of the freaky gossip when I see you in person.

Hugs and smoochy big brother kisses,

PS: I burned you another mix. This one's just stuff that's percolated to the top of my play lists of late. I expect you to read NOTHING into the scattering of super-sappy romantic drivel, and simply enjoy the music.

Mix Tape!Collapse )

Mar. 8th, 2009


OOC: Application

OOC InformationCollapse )

Vital StatisticsCollapse )

Character InformationCollapse )

Mar. 1st, 2009

Savoy Affair

The Last Train to Clarkesville

I thought this was a brilliant idea when I planned it: take the parents to the airport, take myself to the train station, take the scenic route up to college. Stare out the window at the Atlantic coast, maybe do some writing, catch up on some reading...watch the terrain change and view it all as some meditative, contemplative 'my life is changing' sort of journey.

I'm sure Kali, Krishna and the Buddha are all snickering at me behind their hands now.

I'm not going to bitch about the screaming kids, the world's smallest sleeping room, or the way that the crap infrastructure in this country means that this whole mechanized monster rocks at just the right frequency to keep me from sleeping at night. I know, I can already hear my nonexistent readers asking: "But Bill, it's a blog! Aren't they meant to be filled with too-personal whinging about the state of the world as if you were the center of it?" And I agree, dearest reader...except if I've learned anything in this wild, wacky world of ours, it's this: complain where someone can hear you, and it'll always get worse.

So instead, I shall immortalize this rite of passage as...quaint? And trying, but all trials have to be that way or they wouldn't be doing their jobs. Besides, the food in the dining car isn't half bad, and teaching kids to play poker in the observation car has got to be one of the better ways to pass the time while you're stuck for two hours waiting for them to clear the remains of an alligator off the line. The nights are even sort of peaceful, watching the stars stand still as the world rushes past underneath them. Watching the lights of cities come and go, a glow on the horizon that's soon enough left in the wake of this iron snail leaving its mark across the surface of the world. And every city is another marker, another stepping stop taking me away from everything I grew up with, and everything I would just as gladly leave behind.

Oh, there it is. I knew the emo maudlin mess would have to come out eventually. Time to look ahead, to New England. If nothing else, I have to look at it this way: come Spring Break, I will be the guy to come to for planning a little fun in the sun. Besides, snow bunnies need to be warmed up too, right?

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