| a note on neglect |
[Mar. 3rd, 2008|11:38 pm] |
At the moment, I'm sitting on my washing machine to discourage it from roaming willy-nilly about the cottage.
Post to come, when less preoccupied. I swear. |
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| a slighly more pollished rant |
[Nov. 4th, 2007|08:48 pm] |
I thought it was a brilliant move on Rowling’s part, not because his sexual orientation was something we needed to know, but something left to discover.
Authors like Tolkin rarely gave us the opportunity. It was nearly impossible for me to get through The Lord of The Rings, not because of a murky plot, but rather the cumbersome time spent on creating a vivid picture of Middle Earth. It’s as if Tolkin had this whole world trapped inside his head, and he tried to the best of his ability to capture everything on paper. He even created a language. Tolkin can now rest knowing that everything there is to know about Middle Earth fits snuggly between its bindings.
Rowling, on the other hand, gave us a rich world of magic to explore, but didn’t overwhelm us with details and descriptions like her Hobbit-Loving counterpart. It’s one of the first rules one learns in creative writing, to show rather than to tell. Rowling showed effect and vaguely hinted at cause, which makes it seem as though the characters have a life outside of the series. In this way, she shows us the meat and potatoes of the story, while hinting at the existence of a stew.
When Rowling was asked whether Dumbledore had ever known true love, she said that she had always thought of him as being gay. Rowling then went on to admit that she had known, perhaps before writing the first book, that Dumbledore had had an unrequited love affair with Grindelwald. In the book we learn that Dumbledore and Grindelwald, both being brilliant and highly ambitious, had grown very close with one another. From here one can see how Dumbledore might be attracted to Grindelwald, and therefore blinded himself to the darker aspects of Grindelwald’s character. Dumbledore’s love for Grindelwald is never returned, and after a confrontation that resulted in the death of Dumbledore’s sister, the two part ways as adversaries.
It was perhaps Dumbledore’s love for Grindelwald that kept Dumbledore from vanquishing him until it was absolutely necessary; but even then, the story behind why Grindelwald was vanquished is less integral to the plot than the fact that he was vanquished.
Grindelwald was never a central character. In fact, he only lived for about a page, and just long enough to further the plot of the elder wand. At this point, any mention of his love interests, or lack there of, would have been nothing more than an awkward and irrelevant note in the margin. It would have been wholly redundant to mention that Dumbledore had once loved Grindelwald, just as it would have been pointless to know the intimate details of Professor McGonagall’s love life, which by the way, we don’t.
Rowling couldn’t have stated Dumbledore’s love for Grindelwald right from the start because it was superfluous to his development as a character, it would have given away crucial clues to the ending of the series… oh, and it would never have been published. Besides, it wasn’t as though they could have simply thrown in that Dumbledore was gay, willy-nilly into one of the books. What would the point have been?
“Harry, you must defeat the dark lord… also, I enjoy the company of men. Now would you care for a lemon drop” – Dumbledore
The point Rowling made, without ever needing to substantiate it with textual precedence, was that Dumbledore was one who believed in the inherent goodness of people and that love could triumph over evil. It wasn’t until Carnegie Hall that we realized just how much hope was stuffed into that particular sentiment. Rowling’s revelation about Dumbledore’s love for Grindelwald proves how wonderfully human her characters are, a feat most authors anguish to achieve.
It was series written for children, which grew up with its audience. Personally its comforting to know that it had a life long before me, and that even after I’ve placed the books on my bookshelf, there are still things to discover, like new rooms in a house I’ve lived in all my life.
End rant here. |
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| Mace |
[Oct. 26th, 2007|12:19 am] |
Hmm, well I was walking to work and was jumped by five black guys.
One of them hit me over the side of my head and tried grabbing my phone from me. I ducked and swiveled around to look at them, and he made to grab for my phone again. I punched him, and then he pulled out a knife and tried to stab me. I managed to move out of the way enough so that he tour open my shirt instead.
The rest of them pulled me to the ground, kicked me in my side a few times, and took my phone before trying to take my bag and look through my pockets. I pushed them away, and got to my feet, but by the time I was standing they had scattered.
So now... I'm buying mace. |
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| circle circle dot dot |
[Oct. 23rd, 2007|05:28 pm] |
In a mock-political debate over nationalizing health-care.
Him: Well of course you would argue for free health-care, you're gay.
Me: And you have cooties, but I don't see what this has to do with nationalizing health-care...
Him: But -
Me: Seriously; you're going to argue this... seriously? |
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| trappings |
[Sep. 14th, 2007|01:26 pm] |
I’ve settled into my little cottage rather comfortably for someone without furniture. It’s not very difficult as my current method of decorating involves having all of my possessions huddled together at the center of the room, as though collectively terrified of their new surroundings.
I spent my first night here scrubbing the shower so that it would be fit to wash in, and a better part of the next day cleaning the oven and the refrigerator, both of which have a seemingly indestructible smattering of grime. I’m assuming that it may be the remnants of old Tibetan cuisine, as it appeared to be nomadic and smelled like a mixture of curry and lama.
Now that it’s relatively clean I’ll hopefully be able to purchase some proper furniture, if resources allow.
Admittedly I was a little worried about living on my own. While I’m never at want for company, I’m still hesitant falling asleep by myself.
A few nights ago I heard something attempting to pry open one of my windows. I tried convincing myself that it was probably a raccoon but it persisted and grew harder to ignore. Then I heard the distinct sound of a power tool being used somewhere near my gas line. At this point I was too scared to open the blinds, preferring ignorance to actually confirming the existence of the possible crack addict fiddling with my window.
Instead, I thought I might be able to intimidate the person outside by feigning that I wasn’t alone. I quickly put on Rush Limbaugh so that they would think I owned a gun, and called out lines like, “someone grab the plates, the delivery guy should be here soon” or “no, the plastic forks Carol, and Kevin, will you get out the cups?” but whoever was outside seemed completely unconvinced.
I decided it would be best to call the police. A moment later, five clearly lesbian officers arrived and told me to wait inside while they checked about the cottage. They didn't have to search for very long before they found… a raccoon, playing with a toolbox someone had left outside.
I’ve since adjusted to sleeping alone… with all of the lights on, and a bear-trap close by. |
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| three year |
[Sep. 5th, 2007|09:02 pm] |
Yesterday was my three year anniversary with Kyle.
It's hard to believe but fairly easy to accept, mostly because it's been three years.
♥
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| a small cottage of my very own |
[Sep. 3rd, 2007|10:04 am] |
I have a small cottage of my very own.
It’s really more of a large garden shed covered in ivy, but it’s mine and that’s all that maters.
The interior is small and dimly lit, rather like a poorly kept hobbit hole. It’s going to take a bit of work, but I’m sure I’ll be able to make it as warm and inviting as Bilbo’s.
There is a small stove and a refrigerator sitting snuggly across from a sink and an interesting laundry machine that is apparently both a washer and a dryer. Anything that efficient is clearly of the devil, but I’ll humbly accept it for fear of this wide spread coin operated laundry movement they have here. There is also a bathroom, with a shower.
My landlady is really sweet and is putting up a fence around the cottage, so I’ll have a bit of earth to garden in and a gate.
Hopefully I’ll be able to move in by the end of the week! |
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| this is just to say... |
[Aug. 28th, 2007|10:35 pm] |
I’m alive and well.
In the past few weeks I’ve dismantled my life, neatly tucked it away into the trunk of my car, and moved to Berkeley.
I now find myself without a place to hang my hat. Hopefully that is a problem, which will resolve itself in the very near future.
In other news, I finally managed to finish the seventh and final installment of the Harry Potter series, and have since been nursing my resulting sense of wonder and loss with liberal amounts of chocolate.
Let us discuss the modern day Rubiks Cube that is Severus Snape… |
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| enlightenment |
[Jul. 26th, 2007|07:14 pm] |
Today I passed a Buddhist temple on the way home from the mall.
Curious and appreciative of the irony, I found myself walking inside.
The temple was dimly lit, and very quiet, as though it were a room in a house that is rarely used, a sitting room, full of precious ordinary things.
Cautiously I explored, peering into rooms filled with statues of Buddha in his many incarnations, and rows of prostrate cushions.
I watched as the monks tended to their shrine, and listened to the soft rustling of their robes, like the wind picking up leaves.
As I made my way back to my car, I passed an austere looking room full of wooden benches, and caught a glimpse of a cardboard yellow happy face hanging from the rafters.
It was then that I knew, everything
was going to be
ok. |
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| Exodus |
[Jul. 25th, 2007|02:49 pm] |
I have less than a month to pack up my life and move to Berkeley. In the mean time, a suitable apartment still needs to be found, and employment options considered. Having a place to hang my hat would be preferable to sleeping in my car, as well as having income to purchase said metaphorical hat. I was able to find a handful of apartments that I might be interested in, and will certainly look into when I head up for registration next week.
There is still so much that needs to be done between now and moving to Berkeley.
To Do List:
1. Book flight to San Fran / Hotel and then Register for classes.
2. Find an apartment (idly one that does not require the support of my non existent sugar daddy, or a sincere interest in manufacturing crystal Meth, preferably with wood floors and big windows).
3. Finish with summer biology course.
4. Spend as much time with Kyle as is humanly possible without fusing together, as would be freakish and unnatural.
5. Become intimate friends with IKEA, like lovers passing a Swedish meatball back and forth with our noses, or similar.
6. Pack, which will be easy as am minimalist.
7. Panic.
8. Move in / find job.
9. Start school.
10. Come home often to see Kyle and friends. |
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| all my bags are packed, I'm ready to go |
[Jul. 9th, 2007|02:31 pm] |
When I first learned how to walk, the house that had once seemed so large had suddenly became rather small. I no longer needed someone with adequate height to gather me into their arms, like a small pile of laundry. On my own I could explore that which had been both out of reach and sight, but never out of mind. Provided that there were limited and or surmountable obstacles, I could go wherever my wobbly heart desired.
Only a few years later, when I snuggly tied my own shoes for the first time, it was as though someone had hemmed the front yard and neighboring playgrounds a little closer to the house.
My world, as it were, was shrinking.
I moved freely about the places I had been, but had never properly experienced with the independence that came with following the white rabbit around the trunk, and down the hole, as Alice had done. Of course, my rabbit gave me perfect bows, but weren’t Alice and I both looking for adventure?
In time I would be given a car, and earn a license. This meant that my old enemy, distance, had lost considerable ground. It was a devastating blow, as I was now able to travel in a matter of moments, rather than what had once taken a relative eternity on foot.
All of California could be found in the tank of my tiny silver Jetta, Sophie.
Even so, I couldn’t help but feel restless. Why did it feel as though I were still reaching out from behind shoelaces and dashboards, for places just out of sight but never out of mind?
It was then that I realized, I was never moving at all.
I had walked about the same house, the same yard, the same playgrounds, and driven down the same streets, going to the same places. Talk about cabin fever, I didn’t even leave port. What terrifies me is how easily I had convinced myself that I was seeing the world when in reality…
… I’ve been standing still since I first learned how to walk. |
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| Barns & Noble |
[Jul. 5th, 2007|04:19 pm] |
Me - Hey, I was wondering if anyone had turned in some keys on an owl key-chain? I lost them about twenty minutes ago.
Him - No, but give me your number and we'll call you if we find them.
Me - Um... they're my car keys; it's not as though I'm going to leave anytime soon. So... I'll be around.
Him - Good point. |
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| don't panic |
[Jul. 1st, 2007|05:35 pm] |
- a simple guide for life -
1. Eat your fruits and vegetables. These are the best sources of naturally occurring and essential vitamins, minerals, and enzymes. The deeper, and richer the color, the better they are for you. Ideally, you should consume about three servings of vegetables (about one cup counts as a serving) and about two servings (or two cups) of fruit per day. Taste the rainbow (this excludes skittles and the dark corners in gay clubs).
Red - indicates the presence of Lycopene (an antioxidant), which can help to fight heart disease and some cancers.
Green - aside from being loaded with essential minerals, vitamins, and fiber, green fruits and vegetables also contain phytochemicals, which protect your eyes, support the nervous system, and reduce the risk of cancerous tumors, as well as flush out your system of harmful toxins.
Orange and Yellow – contain beta-carotene, an antioxidant that supports the immune system, and helps to strengthen hair and nails while evening complexion. They also contain high levels of folate and vitamin C.
Blue and Purple – indicates health-enhancing flavonoids, and antioxidants. Also suggests high levels of folic acid, potassium, and enzymes, which may help reduce the risk of exposure to carcinogens.
White – contains Allicin, which helps to lower both blood pressure and cholesterol, while increasing the body’s ability to stave off infectious diseases. They also contain indols and sulfaforaphanes, which inhibit cancer growth.
- Nutrition Guide -
2. Drink water (about 1.5 liters a day) even if you hate rushing to the bathroom every fifteen minutes. Your skin will look better, and you’ll feel better too… you ugly depressed prune.
3. Wear sunscreen. Our sun is a giant fucking ball of burning hydrogen gas. Nowhere in the definition of a star does it say “safe”. It’s best to wear a sunscreen that protects against both UVA and UVB radiation, preferably an SPF 30. If you don’t trust me, or the wonderful doctors who earned the right to tell you what to do, then at least trust Nicole Kidman, she swears by it.
4. Use gentle skin and hair care. Most of what you put on your skin is also absorbed by your body, and for this reason it would be prudent to use kind cleansers and shampoos that use natural ingredients. I highly recommend anything by:
- Liz Earl -
- Use a gentle naturally active cleanser (like Liz Earl, Care by Stella, Juice Beauty, or even a bar of natural glycerin soap)
- Always use lukewarm water, and a soft cloth (preferably muslin) to wash away debris and to gently exfoliate.
- Splash cool (not cold) water to remove excess residue and to help close the pores.
- Softly pat dry with a fluffy towel.
- Follow with a gentle alcohol free toner. If you want to be a purist, a little lemon juice diluted with cool water is a wonderfully gentle antiseptic.
- End with a light moisturizer, one specific to your skin’s needs. If you’re normal, oily, or combination, look for light moisturizers that will quickly absorb and are gentle enough not to clog pores or irritate the skin. Dry skin types should seek out moisturizers rich in essential oils, which will calm the skin and replenish vital nutrients.
- If you must wear cosmetics (know that you’re caking chemicals on to your skin, and that your skin hates you.) go purchase a starter kit from Bare Escentuals. It’s a makeup made from pure natural minerals that are free from preservatives, fragrance, oil, and talc as well as other potentially irritating compounds. People with sunspots, acne, rosacea, and excessively dry, oily, or sensitive complexions claim bareMinerals improves the overall health and appearance of their skin. To boot, they also contain natural sunscreens that protect your skin, so much so that i.d. bareMinerals SPF 15 Foundation actually has the Skin Cancer Foundation seal of recommendation. It’s one of the only cosmetics that can actually improve your skin.
- Bare Escentuals -
5. Brush and Floss. Only brush with soft bristles, and a toothpaste containing fluoride. Most dentists recommend Colgate. Also, only floss the teeth you want to keep.
6. Exercise regularly. This does not mean that you need to bulk up, or lose an excessive amount of weight (unless you’re obese) just enough so that when you decide to take the stairs to your office on the third floor you don’t need to lean on a Sherpa. I’m loath to do anything that requires physical exertion. I only made it as far as I did with Varsity swim and water polo because there was a big scary man who counted on me showing up at practices, and yelled at me as I swam. It’s motivational to get the big scary man to stop. If you’re like me, join a club sport, or get a personal trainer. Though if you can’t afford either (again, like me) you’re not for want of options. There is a program called Yourself Fitness. It designs an exercise routine based on your specifications, physical fitness, and desired physical goals. It adjusts each exercise to your schedule, your mood, your physical aptitude (a nice way of saying how weak you are) and commitment, and then graphs your progress. The virtual trainer’s name is Maya, and it’s actually rather nifty. The exercises vary from cardio, to strength training, flexibility, palates, and yoga. Admittedly, it is a little creepy working out with a computer generated person, but effective nevertheless.
- Meet Maya -
- Purchase Yourself Fitness -
7. Don’t take your vitamins. That’s right, what of it? Recent studies have shown that taking vitamins and dietary supplements can actually be detrimental to your health. As an avid Flintstones Vitamin supporter, the sobering image of a white-haired cave boy with a club banging around on my insides immediately came to mind. Most doctors agree that the only supplements we should be taking are a single multivitamin, a calcium supplement, and a folic acid tablet.
- Have Your Supplements Sent To You -
8. Read, before you’re senile and drooling into your pill cup, which should only contain calcium and folic acid supplements! That is unless you’re insane or have Alzheimer’s.
9. Be friendly to the environment. This means recycle, start a compost heap, change your light bulbs to energy efficient bulbs, walk or ride a bike when possible, take shorter showers, plant a tree (better yet a fruit tree so that you can fulfill step number one) grow an herb and vegetable garden (step number one again), open a fucking window, purchase products that promote environmentally friendly practices, whatever you do please strive to reduce your carbon foot print as this is pretty much the only habitable planet in the known universe (and if there is a planet that has been discovered that I don’t yet know about… odds are we’ll have killed ourselves before inventing the necessary means of getting there as I guarantee you that planet is going to be pretty fucking far away) seriously.
10. Look at the bigger picture. All the time spent worrying about life’s little problems, all of the money used, and resources wasted on this war on terror could have, oh I don’t know… bought wells for children dying of dehydration in Africa, low income housing for people who look up and see no roof, or even medication and vaccinations for simple diseases that we don’t have to worry about. In 1977 the World Health Organization made the unanimous decision to wipe small pox from the face of the earth… it’s time we give HIV a run for its money. In short, if you’re ever angry at someone, or frustrated, or sad, then pick a charity and donate a quarter every time you have an issue, and I promise you’ll feel better, and so will the world.
11. Learn to laugh at yourself, and others, as we're all a little silly. |
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| be sure to wear some flowers in your hair |
[Jun. 30th, 2007|04:14 pm] |
I dreamed that I was living in an apartment in San Francisco just outside of Golden Gate Park. The apartment was small and tidy, with white walls, and dark wood floors. I found myself sitting on the smooth tile floor of my bathroom, surrounded by bills and bank statements.
I knew in a way one knows in dreams the contents of each crisp envelope simply by looking at them. Most were cold and matter-of-fact, but a few were frustrated with the promise of deeper pockets.
In this dream I looked sad, sort of sunken in as though there was a weight too heavy on my shoulders, and little air in my lungs. My complexion was sallow and my skin looked stretched over my bones, almost “like butter spread over too much bread”.
In an instant I was walking down a shaded path in Golden Gate Park. The path was lined with trees whose dark green leaves collided with the grey sky, forming a bleak canopy overhead. I held my arms against my chest as a chilly wind passed by. I could almost hear it whistling through my ribs. A little girl with dark eyes walked out from behind a tree and handed me a daisy chain. I watched as she skipped away, holding the daisy chain in my hands. It wasn’t until I woke up that I realized she was the girl from my previous dream, involving a warning and a startling premonition.
Suddenly I was standing on the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge. Night had already fallen as I stood with one hand holding a thick rusted cable, while staring off at the city lights.
I noticed that I had tears streaming down my face as I unconsciously placed the daisy chain on my head, like a crown. It was then I noticed that a song was playing softly in the background. San Francisco, more specifically by Once and Future: Science of Sound. The words mingled with the rushing wind that filled my ears, and the gentle lull of water far below. It grew until it was all I could hear, filling me, surrounding me.
I closed my eyes and fell forward, with arms outstretched…“All those who come to San Francisco…” (elapsed time 2:03).
And as I fell out of focus, “… be sure to wear some flowers in your hair” (elapsed time 2:11), the bungee cord pulled me back up from the darkness below, and as I soared upward towards the sky, I saw that I was smiling. |
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| I move on to another day... |
[Jun. 17th, 2007|06:29 pm] |
I was driving down the five freeway a few nights ago. It was a warm night and I drove with the windows down, letting the wind play across my face as I sang along to an old Modest Mouse song. Everyone has a song that perfectly embodies their four years in high school; so much so that one can’t help but wonder how all of those experiences could possibly fit into a single song… but they don’t.
They pour out of the song and fill your chest, making you forget to breath. They catch in your throat, swelling with an indescribable longing and an understanding of loss that fails to be understood in words, and so instead it rises further, welling behind your eyes.
For me high school truly ended in my second to last week of my senior year.
A small group of students decided to turn the black box of our schools theater into a coffee house of sorts, where other students could read poetry and short stories, or else play music, as a means of raising money for their class. It was a great idea and when the night finally came, the little room was packed with people sitting on cushions, or sprawled out on carpets, which went all the way to the makeshift stage, like a woven tide rising towards the shore.
I read two of my own poems that night, and then snuggly settled myself on a cushion between my friends to watch the other performers. It was then that Paul Cavanagh, a boy who nearly every girl (and a few boys) in my class had harbored a crush for, stepped on stage shyly holding his guitar. It was widely agreed that it was his demure nature, which made him so incredibly adorable, and as he looked out into the audience he said in a soft voice, as though sharing a secret, “I’m going to play one of my favorite songs. It’s called The World at Large by Modest Mouse. This is what I want to be when I grow up”.
At that moment there was an audible sigh from everyone in the room as girls (and boys) either touched their hearts with their palms or covered their mouths with adoring approval. I couldn’t help but wonder if he felt a light breeze pass by him on stage.
As he sang, the room became still and calm. His gentle voice washed over us, and his earnest intent seemed to stun us all. I looked around at all my friends whose faces I had come to know like habits, and saw that a few were sobbing silently as Paul, the handsome boy who embodied our collective high school experience, sang honestly and purely into that little black box, as though in protest of losing all that we had gathered in that room.
When I hear that song, I think of Paul, I think of that little black box, and I carry it in my heart as a record of high school, recovered before it flew off into the distance, never to come back again. |
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| (no subject) |
[Jun. 9th, 2007|06:20 pm] |
At the moment I'm sitting in the design department at Oakley, in a cubical of my very own, having exchanged my position as a host at Lucca for something similar to a small panic room.
I keep looking under my desk, expecting to find Jodi Foster.
I've been assigned the task of creating a digital archive for the design department (which is a nice way of saying that I'll be scanning until either the scanner implodes, or the nub that was once a finger is no longer able to hit the 'scan' button). It has only been a few days, and I've already amassed over seven hundred files that now need to be sorted by both content and designer.
Perhaps I'll be able to compile them into a book of sorts, or even individual portfolios for the designers themselves.
I've also been working as a personal assistant to my mom (reciprocity as it were for her financial support last semester) a position so reminiscent of Mrs. Doubtfire that I might as well invest in a wig and a pair of seventy-something year old breasts.
It's not at all difficult (though tedious in its monotony, and frustratingly unpaid) as I will be watching my younger brother, doing a bit of light cleaning, preparing dinner, sorting through my mother's finances, and steeling things off Pierce Brosnan's Mercedes.
In other news, I've started a small catering company of sorts (as a means of earning money once I've finished at Oakley, and started summer school with my good friend Amanda) for which I'm very excited. It will specialize in pastries for small parties, mostly cupcakes as I feel there is something of a nostalgic niche for them. I've only just finished designing the summer menu, which I will post later if so desired.
It has been an unusually long week, and already I'm starting to feel like I've bitten off more than I'm reasonably able to chew, but I've always been that child with eyes too large for his stomach... and on that note, it's a lovely evening, and I think I'm going to have a bit of dinner sprawled out in the yard. |
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| Discovery Channel |
[May. 8th, 2007|10:24 pm] |
There once was a boy who, by accident, had become rather famous.
He did not ask for his fame, he simply stumbled upon it, and humbly accepted it for what it was – a job – and it was little more than a tired looking agenda who silently suffered from ink poisoning, a hopeful bank account, and a few flash bulbs.
Well, more than a few flashbulbs.
He had no idea that he would one day find himself crouching behind the door to his house, readying himself to push through a sea of camera-wielding paparazzi, as though a salmon swimming upstream. Every morning, the few feet from his door to his car became a sort of discovery channel special, as he fought his way through the whitewater of flashing lights, and large Italian men, like black bears, shouting and swatting at him with their claws.
He was growing very tired of being a salmon.
One morning, as he tried frantically to make it to the safety of his car, one of them abruptly shoved a camera in his face. Having had enough, he angrily pushed the camera away, grabbed the man by the collar, gritted his teeth, and… pressed his lips against those of the shocked Paparazzo.
As the mass of excited cameras turned simultaneously on to one of their own, he swore he heard the man mumble, “well shit…”
And, smiling to himself, he slipped into his car and drove away, completely unnoticed. |
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