No Trespassing

No Entry

Stay

out

go

away

Keep to yourself

PEOPLE NEED TO FUCKING RELAX

QUIT TAKING LIFE SO SERIOUSLY

CHILL THE FUCK OUT

Something is squeezing my skull

Charles Cooper R.I.P.

Charles Wesley Cooper, one half of the musical duo known as Telefon Tel Aviv, committed suicide.

A band I could easily consider one of my favorites of all time, tragically severed at the hip. My condolences to the the friends and family of Cooper. May your music live on forever.

Regulators

I need a break.
I need a moment.
I need a cookie.
I need a cup of coffee.
I need a slow jam.

I don't need a cigarette.
I don't need a midterm.
I don't need a crazy bitch.
I don't need a reason.

Yes, I am blind

I've ceased to care.

I no longer give a shit.

Give a fuck, I do not.

Eliminate the trivial.

No regrets, no worries.

Things are looking up.

Alma Matters

I'm not a writer.

I've come to this conclusion after countless accusations from my colleagues that I, a pawn in the noble institution known as Medill, should be a bomb ass titty slanging writer. Wondrous rivers of text shall drip onto this screen. With each drop of ink upon my illustrious quill, I bestow the world with my words. Bullshit. I've been chastised plenty for not getting hard-ons at the mention of a writing assignment. I find it simply difficult to sit my anus down for more than 5 minutes, and rub out a yummy load of written goodness. Maybe I'm just flaccid.

So with this pathetic self-reproach on this pathetic "blog" of mine, I hereby proclaim the return of corned beef. It'll get ugly at times, stupid quite often, humorous never, and rarely coherent. But there will be content. Come join the fun. Fuck you.