getting shit straight

wellesley girl

hey wellesley girl!

was the party amazing? i'm sure it was. that incredible thing you did, where you took the beer bottles and broke them on the table, menacing everyone assembled with the jagged bottle edges before running off with our five dollars...that shit was amazing. probably you're a comparative lit major, so here's the syllabus for the next three weeks of comp lit 203: rhetorics of unbelievable crap in in american whatever:

• week of 2/11/05: don't stab in the face
• week of 2/18/05: american the beautiful
• week of 2/25/05: give us back our motherfucking five dollars

when you graduate you'll have a real job and then you'll know how it feels to not care about anything. until then please feel free to call anytime and maybe we can all get together for dinner? when you're sober it's bad but it's real, at least.

tales of gss in the real world

how is today's digital-american getting shit straight? consider this marvelous story!

while walking home from a rock concert - a local band, because local bands are never talented enough to be popular, and liking unpopular things is, to a certain degree, quite important - we at gss stumbled across an amazing sight: fourteen local people, unattractive and yet unashamed, walking in a circle, carrying around placards. 'what do those wonderful signs say?' we asked aloud, and as if miraculously, they turned toward us. politics! we can't repeat, on this family oriented (and yet with the gay-friendly too!) weblog, certain of the phrases written on the signs, but rest assured they were pretty fucking inappropriate.

was it a party? a college prank? someone mentioned labour laws, someone else mentioned morocco abu-jamal. politics!

we whipped out our moleskines - not yet certain what sort of information would be written in them, just to HAVE THEM OUT - and watched carefully. did the placards herald the arrival of some extraordinary force? the circus? were we to be privy to the plans of a team of highly-trained assassins, communicating with one another entirely via posterboard? no. here is what we ended up writing in our moleskine (the miniature this time, quadrille-lined, only $45.99 ordered direct from a team of mole farmers in senegal):

'who are these people? what? shit is this america? going to last much longer?'

get some sleep. things can only get better.

seriously now

here at gss we had a special ceremony tonight, during which we burned all our old grateful dead concert tapes. don't call them 'bootlegs' - that implies an oppositional stance from the band as regards taping. the dead were always on your side about that sort of thing, like a gift-giving set of drugged-up uncles. really the all-american band, blending rootsy folk/country vernacular with fine psychedelia and that great post-enlightenment virtue: bloated self-indulgence. wonderful.

but we burned the tapes because frankly, like you, we prefer to occasionally have sex, and the tapes were getting in the way. the drum solos/duets are the musical equivalent of erectile dysfunction: a lot of banging around, no real shape to the thing, then anticlimax.

if you're sensible you'll do the same.