December 2007
Ok...
So like, I’m 18….she’s ALMOST 16….that’s not too bad, right?
And has a boyfriend, and lives in a different city, and has an older brother that is my best friend….
lol, I’m so fucking stupid.
-Eric
:D
We forged it.
lol
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He didn’t sign it.
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So long, Gates-Cambridge…so long…
3.917 is significantly less than 4.0
:(
P.S.
The eighter is gone.
*dies*
Last night.
Balls: So, you're on a half e, wanna throw down with me?
Jay: Sure. Shit, Danny should throw, too.
Balls: Yea. *Danny comes outside*
Danny: Yoo. We pickin up?
Me: Yea dude.
Danny: I could throw down some.
Jay: That was the plan. haha
Balls: Why don't we just pick up an eighter? 10 each way.
Tony (and everybody else): Sure.
Me: An eighter? Fuuuuuuuuck.
Wonder Bread
Manny: i've never written in my dreams (that i know)
Eric: right
Eric: it was a poem about a murder
Eric: very stream of conscience
Manny: like murders lol
Eric: lol
Manny: lol sorry i just realized you smoked pot and it's still infinitely hilarious
Eric: huh?
Manny: i just re-remembered that you smoke pot regularly now if not daily and it's just hilarious to me because...well...when i first knew you...you were like Wonder bread lol
Manny: does Wonder bread smoke pot?
Manny: noooo
Bohemian souls.
So we wandered for, idk, 5 hours or so through the predominantly quiet, deserted, half-abandoned townscapes of the capital.
All three of us felt really free, child-like, curious and indulgant, I think—it was good, and had the aesthetic/spiritual effect of walking over the foothills of New Zealand or something like that, where you walk over a crest or the like and see a great beauty fold...
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Mr. uh, Uh-Wallace is uh-hea….
:D
-Eric
Wandering Kindred
Yea, I’m there. It’s 4:30 almost and the night feels like it just started and I feel like I’ve wandered over every soft, green, shaded piece of campus. It’s horrible, but beautiful, and I can’t blame anybody—I don’t want to blame anybody, either—this is great. But this isn’t it, and the other of the it that I haven’t been able to live...
Girl you gotta love your man.
Yeeeeeeeea.
Long live Jim Morrison…err, whatever.
“Together Alone”
A man whispers against a woman’s
Back—he speaks slowly, harmoniously,
Trilling. She feels his breath;
The warmth, the rhythm of his lips
Opening, closing again closing.
His words brought a world
That she dreamt first
In his mind and yet he speaks,
Silent. Her skin tingles beneath
His breath, best...
Collegiate affections.
Are not what they seem…insert stop-motion vision, watch magic for a while, in slo-mo, and look harder longer, until the flash cartoons stop scrolling by and you know what you hear is clean, crisp, unique for thousands…and you empathize with the Chinese.
And I’m thinking very strangely right now…
vive le mauvaie foi!
I love the world!
I feel like—> :D
I look like—> *_*
haha
-Eric