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I am not a crook. I am not on crack. I am not a crook on crack. Nor am I a crook's crack. Nor can I crack a crook. Um. Yeah.
2003-01-08 - 11:56 p.m.


That last bit of craziness aside *ahem*, I started reading "Watership Down" today. The book is about rabbits. That's all I can tell you so far. Rabbits. My best friend used to have rabbits, while we were still in middle school I think. They liked to eat rabbit food, which came in the form of these little pellets and smelled nasty, from what I can remember. I don't have a lot to say about rabbits. Squirrels, on the other hand, are the epitome of all evil. Of course.

I got out Ms. Ima Hotshotfluteplayer's book of excerpts today. I think when Hindemith wrote "Symphonic Metamorphosis" he was on lots and lots of crack. Of course, it can be argued that Hindemith was on crack in general. According to the first flute teacher I had in college (Freaky Old Guy, not the Evil Bitch), the first movement of the Sonata was about little German elves dancing in the Black Forest (we're talking the Keebler kind- they look nothing like Liv Tyler or Cate Blanchett or Agent Smith I mean Elrond I mean the guy that plays Elrond, "Welcome to Rivendell, Mr. Anderson!", or something). But it's been a while since I played that, so you may have to ask slynn about any possible crack-induced tendencies inherent in that piece. But anyway, "Symphonic Metamorphosis" is a cool piece. The orchestra at school played that the year AFTER I was in it. :-P But I played the "Swan Lake" Suite. Which is better of course. Because I played in it. Pah-Ha.

Down, Little Miss Ego. You have no reason to be showing up. Because I suck right now! Even so, just once in my life I want to play that excerpt perfectly.

Enough of that. I'm still here. Like a piece of luggage, that's all I am. Stuck. There's no reason (Reason?) for me to be home, really, but there's certainly no reason (Reason?) to be here. I could take Tari's good advice, and Greyhound it, as I think there is a Greyhound stop in front of a drug store somewhere in the next town (kind of like in the movie "Mr. Holland's Opus", but I wouldn't exactly be going to New York to be famous, now would I?). But I've discovered I'm too lazy, too cheap, and well, too broke to even take that option. Poop. Maybe I could hitch a ride on a tractor trailer full of broccoli. Although I was just reading in the Darwin Awards, that some guy met his doom by doing just that. Granted he was going after his hidden crack stash, somewhere in one of the pallets of broccoli. But unlike Hindemith, there is no remote possibility that I am on crack. And that's all I have to say about that.

Yeah. And basketball pep band is still NOT better than marching band. That's all. Goodnight.

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