(all attempts to read from here on to the next break should be done in a thick scottish-irish accent, don't worry it's not weird if no one knows you're doing it in yee head, now yee've started) ayyyy lads, me name is macduff and i am a buggerin upstanding citizen-resident of the yarbloke colony in the scottish highlands. I'm'boot 45 years old and I've had me a long and weary life. At age 30 I had ten wee lasses running wild round me loins. Ivvry buggerin one of thim got he or she a good education. BUT DO THEY CALL ME MACDUFF THE FAMILY MAN? NO. Ivvry night 'round aboot supper I invite me pals out to the pub for a few friendly pints. BUT DO THEY CALL ME MACDUFF THE FAMILY MAN? NO. And ivvry year my fields wield a harvest nearly as big as me dick. BUT DO THEY CALL ME MACDUFF THE FARMER? NO. I swear, yee feck wun sheep.
(accent can be discontinued if desired)
Drew and I climbed in his jet black hyundai 6 days ago and went down poplar st. to Hallett Cinemas with the goal of seeing the movie "Proof". The goal was easily accmplished with the help of $5.50 each and the movie viewed. All in all I found it a rather dry, mediocre movie, but not awful. However, after stewing on one of its main points for a while now it keeps haunting me. The movie is all about math geeks who try to advance the field by proving new things (olmstead should probably elaborate on this at some point) except that none of the big proofs are ever accomplished after any of the mathemeticians turn 30. It's like our brains just peak from like 20-23 and then slowly ooze into mush until by the end we are back in diapers. Maybe this is just hogwash, except, the other day was the honorable sarah dawe's 22nd birthday and she was online so i did something brilliant like message her "happy birthday sarah". To this sarah pasted a birthday greeting I had given her over the same medium last year into the window that she had saved for an entire year. It was an incoherently rhymed poem that nonetheless showed a level of risk and motivation that I don't find in myself anymore. I'm not sure how to finish this post.
post the fuckin' e-mail you sent her!
ReplyDeletei don't have it, but if dawe checks this, she could post it. It is totally un-amazing though i should warn yee, anonymous, commenter, it was just used to make a point.
ReplyDeleteI loved it enough to keep it a full year after my birthday!
ReplyDeleteit's your birthday sarah dawe, was that your butt i saw, it was only a mirage,
goddam mental sabotage, maybe you are at a bar, or maybe you are in car,
hopefully not driving, although that would be pretty conniving, tricky if you
will, slug down another swill, cuz now you can drink, and not from the sink,
alcohol sweet booze now legally down your throat can ooze. Maybe if you drink
a lot and then take a puff or two of pot, you can visualize my pretty face a
little bit, and with blurred vision I look like brad pitt!
love
Aaron mandel
-sarah dawe