NROP backwards is PORN. And the world keeps spinning

I talked with Jamaica Kincaid, a prolific writer who my teacher lUUURves, at length over at some anitbellum south mansion called Ivy Hall. I always enjoy hearing what writers that have written so much have to say, because I feel like I can through out a lame duck topic and they can turn into something of great interest (at least for me).
I felt as if I were an outsider. Everyone had seemed to be fans of her work and read some of her books. I had not. They made references to allusions in her writings and voiced opinions about the work being alluded to. I didn't and felt lesser for it. I love William Wordsworth but I failed to connect with her when it came to that reference as well, as I had not memorized 'Dandelions' a poem that persuaded her life.

I enjoyed my time there. She seemed to gravitate to talking with me (must be because I sat upfront hyuck-hyuck-hyuck) and I found it delightful that she reverberated the same lessons that college was trying to pound into my head. She dropped out of school to pursue a writing career (you don't know what you will eventually do, whether that entails your majors or your careers) and she says to write for yourself after telling us that when she first went to the New Yorker she tried to write prose that made her elder whiter peers pause in awe (eventually a writer learns to write for him/herself).
I wish more writers like her came through Atlanta to show us what fruits are in store for those that continue down path of composition.

What's the word? Bird is the word.

Andre Churchwell II Tuesday, October 21, 2008

English Nonfiction Literature

A man and his used rental skates (that aren’t really his)

Skill is involved. A sense of balance and being in touch with one’s own body. A grace of a lake-bird landing on the water bed with nary a splash.

I can’t skate worth a damn so all the descriptors usually fit for the act of skating need not apply to me.

Someone such as I would stay the hell out of Skate-parks, skate-rinks, and open roads as much as feasible. What would surprise you is to find that I love skating-rinks and will defy death to ensure they stay open.

What is the Super Bowl without fanfare and enthralling commercials? If I may answer a question with a question: What is a Skate Center without an arcade and skeet booth? Vacant, in my mind at the age of ten, was the only answer. These are the attractions. These are the teacup and rollercoaster rides. The actual skating was the walking around and buying plush dolls of animated movie character. I’m sure someone enjoys those aspects but they certainly would not be the reasons for me to come to the state fair again.

The actual skate center looked dark and ominous. The interior itself could give me enough of an explanation as to why I still scream for adult supervision when someone walks up behind me and catches me unawares.

What habits could I have, indeed, learn from such an establishment other than what I was supposed to learn, ice skating (of the land variety)? Well, this was housing many a suburbanite so I can play “My First Befriending of a Minority”. You need a partner for this. Not just any partner, you need one of these wide-eyed hopeful children of doctors/lawyers/sellers of ocean liners private school attending part of the majority. You know and upper-middle class lefty who, even though we were born and raised in the south, when Civil War class starts would often be heard saying “they” in reference to the south and “us” in reference to the north. (I found it reasonable to assume that current generations of southerners were in fact more tolerate than previous generations but ridiculous to ignore said generations and pretend there is no connection to them) The game usually involves me playing an arcade game with a new “buddy”. One who stays in the game with me longer than most would and in the process using and exorbitant amount of quarters. This can also entail following me around to the next mode of entertainment, whether it was skeet ball or Street Fighter (bonus points if he makes solely positive comments about every black character that shows up during play) Just generally going out of his way to prove to himself “I’m one of the nice ones. Anyone can see now that I CAN talk with a black person.” I need remind you, most of these encounters were not with fully form adults but with kids in lower school and middle school.

I had no interest in skates nor in skate rinks; it just happened to turned out that most of my classmates, that had birthday parties, do.

Something Vs. Something For A lot of Stuff

My room: (dorm)
- It contains many imports from other students and services (borrowed for an indeterminable amount of time)
-No sustainable amount of food but always a supply of peanut butter (soup, carbonated drinks, apple sauce, crackes, grape breakfast snacks

My other room: (in Brentwood)
-Unlimited supply of reading material (comic and otherwise, seriously I need to sell this crap "My Dog Ran For Class President"?)
-A One Way Tele-Communitory Device with Cathod Ray Attachment (TV)
-A Fan
-A stead supply of chicanery.

Lambeau Field: (Home field for the Green Bay Packers)
-Well... I had this for a similar project in high school. I don't remember all of it but I felt to not mention it would be self-blasphemy.
-I enjoy it when I see footage of the Green Bay Packers winning and such (blame NFL Films and Brett Favre)
-I'm truly the most comfortable on a football field (but this is goes across the board)

Skate Rink
-Can't skate but it's the focus point of a lot of parties I went to as a child.
-But who needs to skate when you can play the arcade games for 2 quarters?

So I lost my Dreamcast last year.