Apocalypse Wow!

Here is a link to my new semester blog:

 http://chillablered-darkofheartness.blogspot.com/

Sarah Rodhouse - who crawled through a river of shit and came out clean on the other side.

"I find I'm so excited, I can barely sit still or hold a thought in my head. I think it's the excitement only a free man can feel, a free man at the start of a long journey whose conclusion is uncertain. I hope I can make it across the border. I hope to see my friend and shake his hand. I hope the Pacific is as blue as it has been in my dreams. I hope." Red

So if it wasn't for the sub-arctic weather, I would have stood out in the parking lot of my Colditz community college, and let the rain wash away all the Freshman year that was worth scrubbing off, all Shawshank Redemption/Tim Robbins like. Instead, I was in the parking lot dealing with the young 18 year old who hit my car right before my psych final. Yay. That has no effect on your test prep psyche. Good thing the exam primarily covered mental illness, as this first year of college really seem to surround me with quite a bit of it, and probably contributed to my own. We're all crazy, just some of us get caught, I guess.
I guess this is my last post for this semester. Gonna head out for a crazy California Christmas, and come back with a new blog for my sophomoric sophomore year. Thanks for reading my shenanigans. I can't wait to see what rolls around the corner, next year.

They're serving fish in the jailhouse tonight

"Peoria Johnson told Dudlow Joe/I can break out of any old jail you know/The bars are iron, the walls are stone/All I need me is an old fish bone/...I'm gonna fashion me/ a fishbone skeleton key/Tell Skullion Childs/I won't be late/You can bet your freedom/I'm gonna clean my plate/" ~Tom Waits

     Nothing like a community college/prison breakout to make you feel right with the world. I should have worn an eyepatch to the pokey today as I feel a little like Snake Plissken from Escape From New York. Maybe even a little Stevie McQueenie from Papillon. Just that whole "Me they can kill, you they own!" mentality. (God, I love that movie!) As this was my last day of being lectured... in class... for this semester, at least... I hope. Not quite ready for the full on Shawshank Redemption from the final exam hazing, but I'll be crawling through that sewer tube next week. Honestly, could Tim Robbins really not find an air vent in that whole entire prison in that flick?! Seriously, ga-ross.
     I'm almost sad to go, especially since I heard Wesley Snipes would be joinin' the yard soon. Not necessarily my yard, but an institutional one, all the same. Hope he still has that girlie wiggle
from that Julie Newmar movie he was in. He may need it!

Happy Alice's Restaurant Day!

     This is my only tradition I keep on Thanks-for-raping-an-entire-culture-giving. Only now I cry when I hear Arlo's song, as it has become yet another entry on my list of nutty widow behaviors. That and a nap. Apparently, even Tofurkey contains some sort of faux tryptophan that will make you pass out and drool down the front of your sweater in front of a blaring televised football game. Luscious, I hate that I've become so elderly at the age of thirty-six.
     Alice's Restaurant really synchs with how I feel about community college, now that it is research paper season. My "green movement hypocrisy" paper has now become my Officer Obie. Writing a seventeen page research paper is similar to the litterbug being confined to the Group W bench with all the mother-rapers, father-stabbers, and father-rapers mentioned in the song. Funny how the topic of the song and the paper are both litter based that have turned into their own special movements. One to research if one is moral enough to join the army, and slaughter people, and one to research these religious zealots, who refuse to accept hard science, and are moral enough to save their own planet.    
     The Anti-Green Massacree Movement is a rehabilitation process that is currently underway. Just need to look for Arlo's envelope under the half ton of trash. I'm thankful for that, at least.

Here's a link to the song if you haven't heard it:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YRFIzyh0q2A&NR=1&feature=fvwp

And the award...

...for longest glued hair weave to a city street in St. Louis goes to... the weave on Kingshighway between Mcree and Manchester, that I have passed every day since I started this semester in August. Seriously, why won't it go away? I mean, I see these all over the city, so much that my husband and I invented a slug-bug punching game a long time ago, called "Weave in the Street." I'm getting tired of my son nailing me in the arm. It's been there for a couple months now and a seasonal change even. The wind has been a blowin', and the rain has been a fallin', and it's still a-clingin'. It's admirable, and sadly, one of the few things in my little world that I've come to rely on. Won't someone please adopt it and find it a good home? Faces may fade in and out, but that clump of nasty, cruddy, artificial hair will eternally be there. That weave is more resilient than a lot people I know. I guess, here's to finding stability, where ever it may show up.
     My Pysch professor may be the hippest man walking the planet. We were discussing intelligence, and an example he used was how dancing is generally not viewed as intelligent. He then went on to disprove this statement, by giving an example of what was suppose to be Gene Kelly's "Singin' In The Rain." However, he called it Gene Simmon's "Dancing In the Rain." This is a disturbingly hilarious thought and vision. Wouldn't his kabuki-style make-up run and stream down his face in a torrential downpour? Would it rain blood in the KISS version of this musical? Poor Debbie Reynolds trying to dance around giant boots like that without getting her feet pulverized. Maybe there is something to what he said, as Gene Kelly was known far and wide for being quite a tyrant. Perhaps that is his inner Gene, after all?
     History brought on an almost unspeakable, disturbing vision, that I will probably never be able to shake. Our professor played a video about Henry Ford, a fascinating, yet prudish, anti-Semite. The fun facts I took away from this was that he purposely designed the back seat of the Model T to be uncomfortably small to discourage "Lovers Laning." However, the Model T was a full seven feet tall, and it became a joke that it was the kind of car you make love standing up in. Pretty progressive for the 1920s! I will say from my own experience, there is not much progess in the past 90-diggity years to improve this catastrophic design flaw. Car sex is no easy undertaking, at least the ones I've been in. I think when Detroit, or Chengdu now rather, rectifies this, Fords will go rocketing off the line once again.
     Anyhow, back to the unspeakable horror I witnessed in class. My fellow classmate, who weighs EVERY ounce of 280 lbs.+, arrived late as usual while the movie was playing. She sa-lllooowwwly sauntered in, listening to her cell phone messages, carrying her nine noisy bags, three of which were loaded with pork rinds and the like, and stopped at the desk to pick up a study guide, right in the line of fire of the projection screen. This filibuster of her 150 lbs of butt in 130 lbs butt-capacity pants, briefly became our new movie screen, as she wrestled with her bags and phone to retrieve a paper. The timing really could not have been better, as a line of a dozen or so Model T's headed west around the immense circumference of her gelatinous hindquarters, briefly disappearing and then reappearing once they made it through the continental divide of her "double bubble." Man, that certainly gives PILES of new meaning to the title of "The Grapes of Wrath." Oh my, what those poor people must have lived through...        

Ding a ding dang my dang a long ling long...

He sure did today. I got Max off to the school bus at 615, sat on my couch for a moment to "rest my eyes," and woke up at 830 with my Psychology class half over. I hate the way falling threw that little wrinkle in time feels. Stupid shocking moments of clarity, getting in the way of my blurry reality. The whole day feels off, like really off, like that Flannery O'Conner story, Wise Blood, off. So I threw a Ministry song on  that has some quotes from that film to get me pumped up, and drove at breakneck speed down Kingshighway through the piles of hair weaves and traffic. "No man with a good car needs to be justified," just like Hazel Motes says. I got to my Bastille in time to turn in my Comp 2 paper, and learn about War World One, at least. Not sure how much edu-macaction really sunk in. Something about Modius research, something about German U-boats, some hot air from the red headed chatty patty who is in dire need of a soccer ball sized cork shoved in her yammerin' sass-hole. At least, it got over with pretty quick, but it certainly sets a tone for the rest of your day. Reminds me of another quote from Wise Blood. "Where you come from is gone, where you thought you were going to, weren't never there, and where you are, ain't no good unless you can get away from it!"
Man, Flannery O'Conner was such a stupendous bad ass, and really, so are Ministry. Jesus Built My HotRod must be one of the most romantic songs ever penned. 

Mid-term Malaise

Something about mid terms really takes it out of me when it comes to writing. That's where I ended last semester's blog and just couldn't get inspired for it anymore. However, this semester appears to be a little bit different, as I experienced a comp class that really hurt my chin, as it slammed against the bottom of my desk. Currently, we are workshopping our speculative cause and effect essays. One of my fellow jailbird's paper is on teenage pregnancy. There was an interesting speculation brought up that some "parents" push their young daughters into having babies, so they will experience some sort of love in their lives. Really, that's a very bare bones definition of child sex trafficking. What was astounding, and frankly chin bruising, was the amount of my fellow inmates who seemed quite all right with that idea, and could rationalize it. Wow, just blew my mind to bits. How are you ever okay with that in any demographic, or culture, or class, or caste? This was such an eyeopener to how uneducated, one can be in America. We should change our nation's motto to, "Welcome to America. You can be as stupid as you want to be here."