Joe

Trees Make a World of Difference

Jason is sitting in a classroom that smells like dead raccoon. The TA is giving a lively lecture on the accusative case. The TA is a closet fucking queer. There are millions of bacteria on the back of Jason's lip, eating away at the flesh so that chewing on the end of the pencil is torture. Torture is the only thing keeping Jason awake. He wishes he were a lip-eating bacterium because he is starving, and he is sure that with the plethora of lips in Los Angles, lip-eating bacteria never go hungry. Jealousy is bitter, Jason notes.

I wish my roommate would leave because I hate mondays and I just want to fucking masturbate, thought Jason calmly as he sat at his computer. He fantasized about cutting of his lip and putting it under a microscope so he could observe the flesh-eating bacteria and emulate their predatory skillz. He is aware that capitalism means anchors for the poor and wings for the rich, but he longs to be tougher than everyone else. The phone rings and it's Jimmy, who is telling Jason that he gave blood today. Jason remembers when he gave blood senior year. His blood was such a pretty, dark red, filling the bag. He hated when they took it away. That's my blood, thought Jason. That's my blood and I want it back.

He felt better after drinking some juice and having a donut, free of charge.

Jason gets off the phone with Jimmy. His roommate has gone to class. Jason pushes the fingers on his right hand backwards with his left hand. He notes how ghostly pale his palm turns. He scratches his head, touches his bacteria wound with his tongue, and climbs into bed for a long, dreamless nap. Then he wakes up and listens to The Roots and Jet and puts quarters in his eyes, and they fall out.
penguin!
  • veekee

Prologue: Vicky

Vicky sat down at her cluttered desk.
Today on the agenda: Social Issues essay one, two, or three?

Vicky opted not to do any of them and fill her stomach with something so it would stop grumbling at her. After a trip to the magnificence that is Trojan Grounds, she was offered the chance to see a play. A play! Of course. On such a bright sunny saturday afternoon, what better way to spend it than inside a dark room. But the play was worthwhile. "Present Laughter". It was british, it was quirky, it was amusing and quite fulfilling.

Vicky's attention was caught on by the acting of one particular actress. She thought about casting her in a role. And then came to the realization that she could not, because she had nothing to cast her in. Silly Vicky.

Afterwards came dinner at the happiest place in the world--EVK. Vicky knew what was coming to her, but she was starving once again and needed nourishment. Oddly enough, however, once stepping through to the other side, she no longer felt as hungry as she did just a few minutes ago. Dinner came with talks of plans for spring break, poking at food and frequent visits to the fruit basket. Apples are yummy.

After dinner Vicky thought she might get some work done. Yet her plans were foiled again, when a better offer came along. The late night would be occupied with a bunch of women speaking about their vaginas. That's right. Vicky experienced her first performance of "The Vagina Monologues."

"Chocolate vaginas for sale!" "Buy your raffle ticket for a vibrator!" "VAGINA!"
"The clitoris has 8000 nerves." That's twice the number in the penis folks. Amazing.

Vicky smiled to herself as the whole night was quite amusing. As the monologues commenced the sexual tension became so thick in the theatre you could cut it with a knife. And then it eat with a spoon. Vicky often times felt she needed to take a cold shower, but stepping back outside into the dark night and cool breeze did the trick. The rest of the night was a bit of a blur, since Vicky suddenly felt more tired than usual. Sleep was calling her, taunting her, beckoning her. And when she finally obeyed, it was oh so sweet.

Goodnight folks.
last life

Prologue: Mike

It was always so hard to wake up before noon. The burden was unfortunately magnified on the weekends, especially when hiding behind eclipse-like window shades. Mike had been blinking in and out of strange dreams that entire Saturday morning. The unfriendly ring of the alarm on his cellphone finally dictated that it was time to get dressed and ready. He shifted in bed and nudged Alex to consciousness.

Within an hour, the two of them were crawling along the congested freeways of Los Angeles, taking a back seat to the navigational prowess of Liana. The mission: to find an apartment. Or at least start looking. In between talk of past histories and a mix CD that featured both Hanson (who secretly still held a place in every indie girl's heart) and various Saddle Creek bands, they departed the UCLA campus and found themselves descending into a veritable brown haze on the 101. Urban decay seemed to be pulling out all the stops today, making the skyscrapers of downtown seem hundreds of miles away.

After an endless commute that gave Mike the suspicion that they could have walked faster, they parked on a depressingly nondescript street and walked up a steep flight of cobblestone stairs to come face to face with a frazzled-looking woman in a dark leasing office. Characteristic of almost every other person in L.A., she seemed complete with an dizzying array of idiosyncrasies and a "seen-it-all" approach to life.

After demanding names and brief rundowns of their pasts, she began to scribble some information on an application and made her dry remarks. "You don't have an accent," she said to Mike after inquiring where he was from. "Clevelanders usually do." Mike shrugged ambiguously and tried to give her a wan smile.

He sometimes wondered if Cleveland even existed anymore--almost all remnants of the Midwest had been bleached off of him by the California sunshine. It almost seemed like the cold gray city existed only in fleeting memories, sinking fast along with past pains and insecurities. He had gone west, slipped through the narrow window of opportunity and out into the wide world. All that was left to do now was wait for the city to swallow him up. He was already waiting patiently in its jaws.

Prologue: Jessica

Okay, so me and casual_frown have decided to write a serial in the form of "tales of the city" about our extremely colorful and dramatic lives. Here's the first part of the prologue, which will introduce each character. Okay fun times.
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Jessica sat on the lawn feeling the prickly springtime grass crunch beneath her body. It was a beautiful day in the academic oasis of the University of Southern California--what seemed like the last surviving green place in the middle of the concrete jungle. The light cool breeze suggested soft night breezes and cigarette smoke beneath the moon. Her enjoyment wouldn't last for long, however, as her ipod could only block out so much of the sorority girl Hell that was settling all around her. As she stretched out her blanket as far away as possible and tried to focus all her energy on browning her skin, she couldn't help but overhear a conversation taking place about three feet away.

Two inbred-looking bleach blondes in string bikinis were discussing the leftover hamburger between them, and who possesed the emotional strength to eat it.

"No, you take it, I ate too much today already." whined the one in the green, flipping her fried peroxide hair.

"What'd you have?"

"Oh my God, I ate like, a whole basket of onion rings."

This was clearly news on par with the death of a family member, as the girl next to her clapped a manicured hand over her mouth and cried "Oh baby, I'm so sorry!"

Jessica blinked, not sure she had heard right. Feeling very "Daria-goes-to-college" and swimming in contempt and righteous disbelief, she glared at the bimbos from behind her tinted fake designer sunglasses. Deciding enough was enough, she picked up her things and headed toward more secluded hideouts.
Xena

No More Bush Party

A friend and I are throwing a party. We're trying to fund raise to stop Bush from winning the next election and support gay marriage. If you support this and can get to downtown LA by March 26, you're invited to join us. :) Just email me at Nightbird@emailaccount.com
Joe

(no subject)

a message from beachmusic if you haven't heard:

Melissa Kaplan, Friday, 10 PMish, Highland Grounds, 742 N. Highland (just north of Melrose) Hollywood,$5 cover, 1 drink minimum(not alcohol), Kyle from Tenacious D is opening for her. you know you ALL want to come, and you want to drive me and all the rest of your friends. he's awesome, she rocks the world, and, she's a friend of mine, and if a lot of people don't come, she won't get paid! so you are ALL coming with me...