Rather than execute picky tendencies, I’ve spent the week harping on anything with a real guitar associated to it. That’s what happens when talk radio gets the best of you. A quarter to 2AM, I think that mean’s it’s officially winter yet the squirrels I observed nestling their accessories of hibernation into holes have yet to get the memo.

Their semesters aren’t donned with academic journals, news accounts, and a regurgitation of what theory is supposed to be defined as. I read 700 pages of one theorist, at least 100 of another and yet still had to study for a test involving them. How does this make sense? Why are we tested on facets that we breathe, on the love of our existence/ Is marriage a test?

Do we have to bind ourselves to a contract in order to make the love more grounded in reality. Is it really just a tax break? Once married does the citizenship award you the life you always dreamed of having?

Can’t help but wonder if institutions are doomed by a rotten core what we are to do with them in the meantime, before the rest of the world realizes it. Now I’m essentialist, alienated from a political grouping because I slipped up on my deadlines. There’s an army of us. Let’s refuse the academic castration!

The reproduction of affirmative misery. The regurgitation of a semester’s worth of chaos. Where all the invisible members of the class come through in style, with high heeled boots. Why do we look so glamorous before finals. I haven’t had a chance at proper hygiene all week… and you sparkle. I’d beg for your secret only so I can sell it on ebay…