Marc
Well, they swim into a hole where there's a lot of bananas. They're ver ordinary-looking fish when they swim in. But once they get in, they behave like pigs. Why, I've known some bananafish to swim into a banana hole and eat as many as seventy-eight bananas. ... Naturally, after that ther're so fat they can't get out of the hole again. Can't fit through the door. -- from "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" by JD Salinger in Nine Stories
One. I love the explanation of the bananafish. I love thinking about bananafish. I think that Seymour Glass is one of my favorite short story characters of all-time. I hope that, once I get to teaching, I'll be able to use this story in my classroom. I doubt there's too many school districts that are progressive enough to let their students read Salinger. It would be nice, though, wouldn't it? I saw something somewhere that claimed the bananafish are a symbolic representation of emotional overload. I like thinking about that.
Two. Last year at this time I was becoming obsessed with Madden2003. This year at this time I'm getting by on The Lost Vikings for the Super Nintendo. If you clicked on the link, it's a translated website, so it doesn't make much sense. I'll put it like this -- you are three vikings. One runs and jumps. One shoots arrows and swings a sword. And the last one has a shield and can use it to float. Your main goal is to get to the exit, using all the abilites of the characters to get from one point to another. It's so unbelievably addicting. I'm obsessed. I consider it my release when I need to take a break from work. And I've needed plenty of those so far. Only problem is that I'm on level 35 of 41. Guess I'll have to start over when I'm done, or maybe I can look around for a copy of The Lost Vikings 2.
Three. Nobody writes on here much anymore, do they? Are we getting too old? I know why Matt doesn't do it -- one, because he thinks it's lame, and two, because he's too busy partying all the time. I called that SOB on Friday afternoon at 3pm and he answered the phone like, "(grunt) hullo?" Party animal, ladies and gents. Mofo was still sleeping at 3pm on a Friday afternoon. He must be living the life up there in his bachelor pad with all those dudes. Livin' the life indeed. Meanwhile I'm stuck down here in Blormal with a chick roommate and two cats -- Crapface and Jackson. I let them bite my toes sometimes. Othertimes I don't. That's pretty much my day.
Four. Finally, go Cubbies! How exciting is this? I had a dream last night that the Cubs went to the World Series and I shelled out a couple grand to watch one of the games at Wrigley. My justification in my dream was -- this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. They showed Kenny Mayne on Sportscenter a couple of days ago interviewing a woman at Wrigley who was talking about how she had the chance to see the Cubs play in the 1945 World Series at Wrigley. But she didn't go cause, she said, she'd go see 'em next year. Every year since that point has been "next year." So, here's the question -- how much would you pay to see a World Series game at Wrigley Field? We're talking actual dollar amounts here, too, guys. It's quite a little dillema. I'd shell out at least a couple c-notes on seats. I wouldn't need anything fancy. Upperdeck, back row would suffice. I've had tickets there before and I was happy then. I would just want to say that I was a part of it. Any thoughts?
Five. As a side note to my gushing over the Cubs, I would also like to say -- the Bears looked fucking awful in their first game of the season. Go ... Bears? Go Marshal Faulk?
Up Next: People not writing on this BLARG!; Yoshimi vs. The Pink Robots by the Flaming Lips; and, Suicide Invoice by the Hot Snakes.
Tomorrow: People still not writing on this BLARG!
Well, they swim into a hole where there's a lot of bananas. They're ver ordinary-looking fish when they swim in. But once they get in, they behave like pigs. Why, I've known some bananafish to swim into a banana hole and eat as many as seventy-eight bananas. ... Naturally, after that ther're so fat they can't get out of the hole again. Can't fit through the door. -- from "A Perfect Day For Bananafish" by JD Salinger in Nine Stories
One. I love the explanation of the bananafish. I love thinking about bananafish. I think that Seymour Glass is one of my favorite short story characters of all-time. I hope that, once I get to teaching, I'll be able to use this story in my classroom. I doubt there's too many school districts that are progressive enough to let their students read Salinger. It would be nice, though, wouldn't it? I saw something somewhere that claimed the bananafish are a symbolic representation of emotional overload. I like thinking about that.
Two. Last year at this time I was becoming obsessed with Madden2003. This year at this time I'm getting by on The Lost Vikings for the Super Nintendo. If you clicked on the link, it's a translated website, so it doesn't make much sense. I'll put it like this -- you are three vikings. One runs and jumps. One shoots arrows and swings a sword. And the last one has a shield and can use it to float. Your main goal is to get to the exit, using all the abilites of the characters to get from one point to another. It's so unbelievably addicting. I'm obsessed. I consider it my release when I need to take a break from work. And I've needed plenty of those so far. Only problem is that I'm on level 35 of 41. Guess I'll have to start over when I'm done, or maybe I can look around for a copy of The Lost Vikings 2.
Three. Nobody writes on here much anymore, do they? Are we getting too old? I know why Matt doesn't do it -- one, because he thinks it's lame, and two, because he's too busy partying all the time. I called that SOB on Friday afternoon at 3pm and he answered the phone like, "(grunt) hullo?" Party animal, ladies and gents. Mofo was still sleeping at 3pm on a Friday afternoon. He must be living the life up there in his bachelor pad with all those dudes. Livin' the life indeed. Meanwhile I'm stuck down here in Blormal with a chick roommate and two cats -- Crapface and Jackson. I let them bite my toes sometimes. Othertimes I don't. That's pretty much my day.
Four. Finally, go Cubbies! How exciting is this? I had a dream last night that the Cubs went to the World Series and I shelled out a couple grand to watch one of the games at Wrigley. My justification in my dream was -- this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. They showed Kenny Mayne on Sportscenter a couple of days ago interviewing a woman at Wrigley who was talking about how she had the chance to see the Cubs play in the 1945 World Series at Wrigley. But she didn't go cause, she said, she'd go see 'em next year. Every year since that point has been "next year." So, here's the question -- how much would you pay to see a World Series game at Wrigley Field? We're talking actual dollar amounts here, too, guys. It's quite a little dillema. I'd shell out at least a couple c-notes on seats. I wouldn't need anything fancy. Upperdeck, back row would suffice. I've had tickets there before and I was happy then. I would just want to say that I was a part of it. Any thoughts?
Five. As a side note to my gushing over the Cubs, I would also like to say -- the Bears looked fucking awful in their first game of the season. Go ... Bears? Go Marshal Faulk?
Up Next: People not writing on this BLARG!; Yoshimi vs. The Pink Robots by the Flaming Lips; and, Suicide Invoice by the Hot Snakes.
Tomorrow: People still not writing on this BLARG!
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