Sunday, August 31, 2008
I'm Sorry, What Was That?
Despite all odds, I made it through the third week of my post-summer/pre-fall break. Upon my return, I spent the majority of this past week getting re-acclimated to the left coast, and attempting to suppress the relentless urge to run outside with a magnifying glass, three gallons of lemon-scented Palmolive and a handful of hard-bristle toothbrushes to clean every crack and crevice of the sidewalk in front of my house in an attempt to cure my unholy plague of boredom. But, as the days gracefully fluttered by, I did find myself engaged in more productive activities, such as acquiring the tools necessary to complete my fall classes. And my train ride home on Thursday afternoon proved interesting when, by the magic powers of coincidence, I, dressed in a white tee shirt, found myself surrounded by ten to fifteen other young gents, all white, all wearing white tee shirts. After shaking all feelings of befuddlement and doubt, I became awe-struck by this profound moment of cosmic and/or divine intervention, believing it a tale to be etched in the stone tablet of history, a parable to be told for ages to come. And while I may have been the only one completely in tune with this occurrence at the time, I'm sure the others involved felt it on an subconscious level, and I have thus declared our special group as the "Pasty White Guys In Pasty White Tee Shirts," or P.W.G.I.P.W.T.S, for short. Our spiritual group swiftly disbanded, however, upon the entrance of a linebacker-sized she-male in a yellow dress...
The week ended on a distorted, ear-piercing high note when I got to see southern-swamp-sludge-metal legends Weedeater in concert at the Elbo Room, a mere forty-five minute hammertoe-inducing trek from my house. The show was awesome and I left with the inability to hear several different frequencies. I also managed to produce a little art work this week, specifically the white tiger below which served as an early birthday present for my sister. Below that, I have included two sketches from my Dad's jury trial which took place during my Virginia trip (he was the defense attorney, not the plantiff) and a sketch from my many wanderings through Golden Gate Park.