I found this charming song in Slaughter-House Five by Kurt Vonnegut (great book) and I thought I should share it:
"In my prison cell I sit,
With my britches full of shit,
And my balls are bouncing gently on the floor.
And I see the bloody snag,
When she bit me in the bag.
Oh, I'll never fuck a Polack any more."
Stupid Polacks! Wait a second...oh yeah, that's right. I'm one too. I'll guess I won't have sex with myself for awhile, in that case.
Driver's Ed got a little more interesting today. After watching a horribly depressing video on drinking and driving (and rightfully so), the teacher popped in a video that "focuses on drinking in addition to marijuana and cocaine." What was the video? A Bill Cosby stand-up special. It was utterly amazing.
We all love summer. It seems as if everything in this season is magnified by our free will, and we experience the extremes of emotion. Connectedness becomes a thing of the past, and in these short months, we truly are living. Sure, we live the rest of the year, but the monotony of it all drags us down. The friendly sun beckons us to join it, and its infectious attitude lifts us up.
I state this in general, because some of this does not pertain to myself. I'm so bogged down sometimes I can't do anything or go anywhere, but I'm not going to complain about it. I'm just going to observe the world from behind the wheel and enjoy peace while I can, before I eat, breathe, and sleep college applications and AP English.