I'd get angry with athletic ease, break common laws in twos and threes

"How did you get home so fast? You must of been speeding".
"Uhhh..." (holds up ticket) "Yeah, I kinda did."

The Darjeeling Limited

My long, flowy hair is no more. It has been shaved away like Richie Tenenbaum's. Or in other words: the former me was akin to Gilbert Grape, but now my appearance resembles that of Dan Dunne. If you have received these references with ease, then likely you'll understand the stupidity of this conversation:

Anonymous daff: (blah blah) ...My favourite actor is Johnny Depp!
Hero: Yes, yes! Oh, Ed Wood is amongst my most coveted pictures!
Anonymous daff: Who's Ed Woood?
Hero: Umm... I mean, how about that Pirates of the Caribbean picture?
Anonymous daff: Omg! POTC is my favourite movie, and I loved him before POTC too!
Hero: Philistine.
Anonymous daff: What? I'm pro-Israel.

Perhaps this was mildly critical but someone needs to put this anonymous daff in her place and who writes about beatniks and other happy things when an environmental science essay is lingering over one's head like a guillotine.

Continuing the film motif: I must view this "Control" picture, which deals with that Joy Division guy who liquidated himself at 23.

Rainbow River is running low this year, and that big fish is a slippery bugger

This semester is wearing on me. I pretty much despise half my classes. Let's attack each of these pseudo-educational classes individually, shall we?

Mathematics 101: This class is essentially a dumbed down version of grade seven mathematics -- and yet, some in the class malfunction and thus look silly. My teacher -- who incessantly jabbers about her new lover Bruno and her punk kids -- dares to call me out in class: "Bryan, I don't see any light bulbs going off in your head; you probably know all this don't you? Why don't you teach the class -- here's the chalk." Despite The Libertines and Cat Stevens efforts telling me not be shy and Floyd telling me to stick it to the man, I become somewhat of a recreant and say nothing, but direct a "screw you" stare at her. All I do in this class is doodle, while my confrere Reuben chows on a burger and completes his physics homework -- "real math". By the way, there is no homework is math 101 save writing in our journals regarding the "cool" aspects of mathematics.

Environmental Science: Carbon cycle? Phosphorus cycle? Convoluted labs where I roam about like a beatnik -- extremely confounded and despaired -- and yet pull off an eighty percent? Yee. Seriously though, this class has no benefit save Redeemer's ability to claim of producing well-rounded students.

Political Science: The biggest let down of the year. We learn some nuanced definition of a nation and then the teacher asks: is Canada a nation? -- and half the class neglects to raise their hands, figuring, "No, I do not believe I live in nation -- merely Canada". You nebbish folks! Sickening.

I should mention that my other three classes are rather pleasant, but I see no reason to dwell on good things.

Life has been this low, since I don't know when, since I don't know when

I previously forgot to give a screw-you-shout-out to Voxtrot for canceling their show -- and so I'll take the opportunity afforded to me here: screw you Voxtrot -- I hate you.

In other news I read this on my grand confreres Emil Svanängens' website: "for the moment i am looking for a bass clarinet and a double bass. ps. i might even make an album soon, need time and space." I promptly purchased a bass clarinet today and will practice twelve hours-a-day in a dreamy hope that Emil will bring me on board and we'll play mellifluous shows all around the world whilst eating Swedish meatballs, mingling with Mats Sundin, and fetching Swedish femmes with golden hair and eyes with the bluest of hues.

If you don't like Loney, dear then you are a cold unfeeling robot.

I'm a cloud of moths, who just wants to share your light. I'm an insect who wants to get out of the night

All sorts of weird things happen around here. For example(s): Two days ago we happened upon a skunk outside our dorm. Obviously, we chased it with a stick until it bolted for refuge underneath our mini wooden deck thing -- actually, it is more like a crate, which functions as a weak deck -- anyway this is digressive -- back to the point: the crate is lifted by one intrepid soul and the other fellows chucked walnuts at this sucker (these other fellows had walnuts because they previously been attempting to hurl walnuts at a raccoon who had stolen some of their garbage). The skunk was becoming pissed and thus it was decided to liquidate it before it begins to spray us with heinous gases. So they grab spears and begin to rocket these spears, like you would to hunt a whale, at our poor little anti-hero. But this little bugger refused to die and sprayed out pungent, toxic fumes and we fled like mad in fear of this poisonous mist that would cause even Cal Dewitt to lose some of his charismatic charm. Our entire living room reeked of old moribund monks- I mean skunks. The skunk had won. This is until five minutes later when some creation-hatin' folks returned with cherry bombs and fried that little SOB.

In other news, the referendum was rejected by nebbish Ontarians and the Liberals maintained their majority despite four years of worn rhetoric regarding every salient issue one could think of. If the referendum had passed the NDP and Green Party would have more seats and the Ontarian population would of been better represented; but John Tory -- the perennial loser of the Progressive Conservatives -- dissuaded enough of populace from doing so.

On to more important matters: Radiohead released In Rainbows to much praise from your own anti-hero. It sounds more lush to me, almost akin to some of my shoegazing heros. The lyrics are melancholic as always and listening to the album more than three times-a-day will result in a bout of depression.

Pale blue light along the coast

I am Nik Antropov from the 00-01 season -- the epitome of second tier. I swear I used to have mildly impressive hockey skills but they have dissipated deeply. You may be able to stretch this mediocrity struggle into a life motif: my life ambitions seem to hit the ne plus ultra territory lately -- but I do cannot elucidate these ambitions -- and they seem so grandeur, I need to crack 'em. ...but I cannot even crack Photoshop -- what chance do I have at life cracks? I cannot bring up cracksforsordidhackers.com and scroll down to life crack: 1343 2343 2343 2343 2343
If I were not so gauche and shy, things would be ineffably (word of the day last month but forgot her in the hat until now(notice I used "her", you vexing feminists)) easier. For example: Science class -- my environmental science professor mentions some sinister Australian jellyfish that liquidates people. He could not recall the name of the jelly and just stood there for a moment. Now, my knowledge of jellyfish -- particularly this Australian jellyfish -- is impressive and I immediately knew he was speaking of the Irukandji jellyfish, of which a sting results in Irukanji syndrome -- my favourite illness at the moment -- but I bashfully remained behind my laptop, feigning ignorance to my ability of specifying jellyfish.
After remaining silent, I desperately needed to speak out due to by suppressed voluble nature and thus I headed off to public speaking and delivered some ridiculous speech regarding my navigation struggles in the made metropolis of Hamilton and receive laughs a dime a half-dozen. Then, after naively believing I came across as a comical Clive Owen, my teacher stigmatizes me as "very Woody Allen like" and I return home frustrated and pick-up the paper: provincial elections are here -- like I wasn't frustrated enough. They all present nebulous and not even well crafted promises and I'd just rather see a junta come to power. Perhaps I'll refuse my ballot.
Thanksgiving is here and I am very thankful for many things -- except turkey. Actually, this is a pleasant break from school and I am quite content.

"Did you get the memo?" - "Yeah, it was kind of harsh."

Memo to stingy Iranians:

Persians who neglect their own blog and yet still demand free advertising for aforementioned blog are daft and destroy the credibility of this page as I promise my fans that my links will be fresh and stimulating.

In other news, some intense folks just stopped by with a dish in hand and pressed me very firmly on this issue: is this dish a bowl or a plate? I determined it was a saucer.