You Smell that? Smells like....Freedom.

And thus did Spring Break arrive, and the people of the land turned out in joyous multitudes to welcome their champion and savior who brings them respite, though brief, from their toils and sufferings...and all was good and right in the world for a time, save for the evil of a sole Physics lab and the waning shadow of a health correspondence course that stood forth to remind the world that the darkness was not yet gone forever....

So yes folks, my spring break is upon me....it's a beautiful thing. Indeed it is. So here's the outlook for me so far: I need to finish my health course (so long as I manage to scrounge up some discipline that hopefully won't be too hard), sleep, finish my other heathen schoolwork, sleep, finish up me video, eat, get me hair cut, sleep, hang out with the peoples with what time I have available, and, um...sleep? Yeah, sleep would be good. Besides, if I didn't get good enough sleep, I have a feeling that certain persons might start coming over here at around 12 and giving me a very disapproving stare until I make my way down into the depths of my lair (for those of you who don't know, yes I do have a lair) for the night. Of course that might not be so bad really....

I've noticed that whatever is put at the end of a post, even if it is only a small fraction of the total post, is usually what gets commented on the most. Hmmmm...makes sense. I shall have to subtly utilize this tendency to my advantage. Now, you might be thinking that how will that work now that I've told you my plan (seeing how devious and diabolical you all are), but that's the simple beauty of it: what if I wanted you to know? What if this is all part of an elaborate scheme to steal the souls of every last barber in the nation to keep in vaseline lined jars that I'll keep in my basement as decorations and nightlights and such? What then, huh? Alright, I'll shut up and stick a poem up now. Sheesh.

Lamentations

The morning finally comes
and the light pours in as I step out from sleep,
Awakened by the cold water pouring down,
Seeping in, cooling the inside of my skin,
The momentary comfort is lost in the knowledge
of the grudging day to come.

Rudely stuffed full and set out on display,
Blood begins pounding hotter
As i sit amongst my fellow sufferers of
Unnamable indignity,
I wait as my blood grows thicker
For the
Sweaty hands to start
Reaching out to drain that
Precious blood, my life.

Soon, I am all but spent,
Used
Emptied and left alone,
with only four other
cold metal cylinders to share
in my weekly humiliation.
Then my keeper comes,
Takes me back,
Cleans the filth from me,
The only kindness I see each week
In the gentle hands and cleansing water.

My keeper is te only one who knows me
For more than simply what I make.
Sometimes I frustrate him,
When I seem a task equal to
King Augeas' Stables,
But he still cares for me.
He must after all,
To come back to clean me,
To scald jhis hands again,
Week after week after week,
And to set me to rest for my long sleep,
Before next Sunday, when I must take part once more
in the labors of an old, venerable coffee pot.
-3/12/05

Here's a shout out to all you other God Squaders out there, or in other words, to George, although he doesn't ever have to clean the coffee pots.

Punk.