I'm back, bitches.

Oh that's right. And I have a few things to say.

1. College = Lame. The list of things that bug me here is tremendous. People trying to compare Jack Nicholson as the Joker to Mark Hamill. It just doesn't work, son. Two different brilliant Jokers.

2. I rock at writing, as shown by the A on my fiction portfolio. Art!

3. James Thurber is the fucking MAN.
http://www.visi.com/~tomcat/poetry/Grant.shtml

Wow, TV newscasters are fucking assholes. Damn it's lonely in Bingo.

Anyway, it's been a week since my spring break, didn't get to do some of the stuff I wanted to do, got yelled at by my grandparents a little for not checking in when we were in the city, drove 1600 miles in one week by myself, met a... different sort of lady (the inside-out penis surgery kind), saw Maine, thought, hung out with my friend, bleached my hair in anticipation of dyeing the tips wicked blue (WICKED BLUE!), bought Kate birthday presents, hit up St. Mark's in the East Village, drove myself and my friend out of the city with no directions at 11 PM on St. Patty's Day past a 4-car pileup, drove from NYC to Maine with no directions, just an atlas (directions were mostly my friend, to be fair, she's good), got fucked up on energy drinks, bought Eraserhead (finally!), new pants (which are now in need of repair), and shopped (and enjoyed it for the first time).

Several things have been striking me over the past week, and I've been enjoying the fact that it's finally spring. I feel like I'm waking up, I've been thinking about art a lot more recently.

Something struck me the other day; the U.S. Poet Laureate (the current one) came to our college and held a workshop. There are just shy of 13,000 people here. 40 of them came to this workshop. Do the math on that. This man is the top of his game, poeta numero uno. I sat there as he used phrases like "Boats washed ashore, full of bones" and me and my creative writing teacher nodded our heads. I tried my hand at writing a poem during the thing, but ended up writing a better joke. Pretty sad, eh? BU's not a liberal arts college, it's a gussied-up harlot of a trade school.

On the upside, though, only 6 weeks left in the semester. I should really get to work. More updates to come, hopefully.