4.6.04

If you are in the Seattle area tonight:

Unleashed! A Cappella Concert
7:30 PM
HUB auditorium
ABSOLUTELY FREE!!!

2.6.04

bigaxl67: tell skidawg somtin fer me

Auto response from bigaxl67: Homework, floor dinner (last one!), a cappella rehearsal (also the last, for big group), mandatory floor meeting (whaddya know - the last one of its kind as well), and then bubble tea. busy!

bigaxl67: if he thinx hes gonna out do me, find the treehouse first, ill show up at HIS house, and ill FInd out where it is
bigaxl67: uuh ok bbye

this might be getting out of control.
bigaxl67: tell skidawg somtin fer me

Auto response from bigaxl67: Homework, floor dinner (last one!), a cappella rehearsal (also the last, for big group), mandatory floor meeting (whaddya know - the last one of its kind as well), and then bubble tea. busy!

bigaxl67: if he thinx hes gonna out do me, find the treehouse first, ill show up at HIS house, and ill FInd out where it is
bigaxl67: uuh ok bbye

this might be getting out of control.
'Look!' cried Montag.
And the war began and ended in that instant.
Later, the men around Montag could not say if they had really seen anything. Perhaps the merest flourish of light and motion in the sky. Perhaps the bombs were there, and the jets, ten miles, five miles, one mile up, for the merest instant, like grain thrown over the heavens by a great sowing hand, and the bonbs drifting with dreadful swiftness, yet sudden slowness, down upon the morning city they had left behind. The bombardment was to all intents and purposes finished once the jets had sighted their target, alerted their bombardier at five thousand miles an hour; as quick as the whisper of a scythe the war was finished. Once the bomb release was yanked, it was over. Now, a full three seconds, all of hte time in history, before the bombs struck, the enemy ships themselves were gone half around the visible world, like bullets in which a savage islander might not believe because they were invisible; yet the heart is suddenly shattered, the body falls in separate motions, and the blood is astonished to be freed on the air; the brain squanders its few precious memories and, puzzled, dies.

-from Fahrenheit 451 by Ray Bradbury

There is more than one way to burn a book. And the world is full of people running about with lit matches. Every minority, be it Baptist/ Unitarian, Irish/ Italian/ Octogenarian/ Zen Buddhist, Zionist/ Seventh-day Adventist, Women's Lib/ Republican, Mattachine/ FourSquareGospel feels it has the will, the right, the duty to douse the kerosene, light the ruse. Every dimwit editor who sees himself as the source of all dreary blanc-mange plain porridge unleavened literature, licks his guillotine and eyes the neck of any author who dares to speak above a whisper or write above a nursery rhyme.
-from "Coda" by Ray Bradbury (epilogue to Fahrenheit 451)
SkiDawg111784: I'm going to find Mr. Scurlock's treehouse first...I know where it is

...the plot thickens...

1.6.04

"You will find no comfort here/In the kingdom of bang and blab."

Theodore Roethke's "The Lost Son", lines 32-33

31.5.04

DUE TO POPULAR DEMAND THIS BLOG NOW HAS A NEW POST.

thank you. - the management