Monday: Run. Little to speak of. Philosophy class was canceled for the week, so I read Plato’s Republic in vain. Unlocked Captain Falcon in Super Smash Bros.
Tuesday: Run. Read about Absolutism in the French 17th century monarchy, the occupation of Poland, and some Hobbes, who is a real cynic I have come to find. Guitar. Phi Delt Brotherhood dinner in ties. Ross’s speach mentions my anonymous email, that I asked him not to read aloud “seriously…” but he chose to anyways, which, for the effect, was a good decision overall. Went to ed school night class in my green power tie.
Wednesday: Run. Developed a cold. Asthma. Writing studio workshop helps me decide on my project proposal. Unlocked Luigi in Super Smash Bros. Had my fiction story “In the caucasus mountains” workshopped. Much to be done. Skipped half of class to go snow tubing at Massanutten. Jason Grace orders three tacos at taco bell making sure to mention every ingredient he wanted on top of his taco into the intercom. Unnecessary. Busted lip at snow tubing. Shouldn’t have worn my chuck taylors. Damien Rice. Stephen Thiele confronts me about my driving. I drive with my knees. And I take hard corners.
Thursday: Too sick to run. Lecture on English Reformation was very dry. Felt like skipping class, but didn’t. Guitar. Read Hemingway’s “A Moveable Feast.” An excerpt:
“When spring came, even the false spring, there were no problems except where to be happiest. The only thing that could spoil a day was people and if you could keep from making engagements, each day had no limits. People were always the limiters of happiness except for the very few that were as good as spring itself.
Life had seemed so simple that morning when I had wakened and found the false spring and heard the pipes of the man with his herd of goats and gone out and bought the racing paper. But Paris was a very old city and we were young and nothing was simple there, not even poverty, nor sudden money, nor the moonlight, nor right and wrong nor the breathing of someone who lay beside you in the moonlight.”
Grandiose thoughts about time and youth and being sad. Went to desert event for rush at Baird’s room, whose radiator had exploded on sunday, burning many of his belongings and schoolwork and furniture. Duke loses to UVA, the house goes nuts. Sleep early.
Friday: Back in Charlottesville high school. Watched film rendition of the Oddysey. The kids don’t care, and there is little you can do to make them care. Your job is to make sure they don’t drop out of school. Lunch? I can’t remember. Afternoon band practice. Stope and I write my song. The melody is strong. Words soon. Emmet turns of the N64 and we lose all of our hard work, yet we smash all the same. Final hours, then voting til 530 am. Red bull and emotional language. 22 bids.
Saturday: Bid day. Overslept. It’s understandable I think. Throwing first years in the air all day long. Bagel bites. Read Kant Voltaire and Rousseau. Darius leaves his jacket and I wear it to bid night. 20 men accept bids out of 22. We win a few battles. Q doba like whoah. Bid night party. I work the door all night. Nearly lose my fingers to the cold. Didn’t make bad decisions. Wrote epic emails.
Sunday: Woke up 645 am. Pick up Stope. Drive to Falls Church. Culpepper – nothing to see. Play music for Alex’s charismatic church, where he was raised. Women speak in tongues and clap on the downbeats. Alex busts his guitar infront of the whole congregation. Spend time with the lord. Drive home. 11 dollars on lunch at Wawa because I was hungry and I wanted a chef salad. Talked about high school nick names, egging cars, the mailboxes in Texas, and other miscellaneous goofiness with Stope on the way home, who is one of my best friends, now that I think about it. Super bowl. Emerald Nuts wins. Done.