don't be

wake up wake up

We''ve been busy. Stuck, barnacled and manacled. We're not sorry. Happy Summer.

It's June First.

steve in black

how many?

How many papers? So many papers.
How many months? Five many months of summer to work.
Five months to play and be normal and not miss school.

We will take your photo and write about our times with you.
We will be too busy working to lie in the sun.
Also too busy lying in the sun to work that day.
This is a poem,
about anticipation for summer,
couldn't you tell?

Of course it's obvious and that is the way it should be.
Why hide what we want/got,
when it's staring us all in the face every second of the day,
save when you're too busy being forgetful.

How many more months 'til we do it again (oh god no not again please not again)!

-Ali

throw it in tha gutta/go buy another (disposable camera)

I was going to bring this table back to Steve's house. I thought he needed it. He smashed it to stop me from bringing it back to his house. He didn't think he would find a use for it.
Mix Master Trash n' Toil on the ones and twos.
Eye contact between Grandfather and Granddaughter.
Rub a dub!

TWO DAYS IN AMERICA (in four photographs)

new month same shit

the new look

bristol palin: NO FUTURE

Uh oh.
“Get out a piece of paper and a writing implement.”

After “Get out a” I knew what was coming. My professor was a breath away from declaring a quiz on a book that I had not read. Expected groans arose from the class and I felt minutely better, when stifled utterances preface a quiz or test the students bond together, the ship is going down. We’re all sinking.

“I used reading break to study culture and iconography in America. I didn’t read the book. Sorry Ryan.”

I thought that writing this would garner me some respect, or not, but maybe I would stand out a bit. I might tell him about all the eagles in the sky and on bumper stickers. A few days in America is hardly sufficient time to produce worthy insights. But eating Hungry Man and super burritos amused me. Maybe it would amuse him too.

The class marked each other. Our professor had us read our scores aloud as he took attendance. They were unavoidably dismal.

Last night my roommate threw my discarded Burger King milkshake cup onto my bed. I had forgotten that I placed it in mailbox upon coming home. My hands (and belly) were full. She said she had just cleaned the mailbox and that I deserved it.

lowered expectations

its alright/at the end of the line

I swear it will be okay!

Christy Turlington

Christy Turlington, WE SALUTE YOU!!

On masturbation

Some time ago the subject of masturbation, not as taboo as it once was, came up in conversation. A friend of mine mentioned that he would run the shower during the act. That was his thing. When he was going to jerk off, he would go to the bathroom and run the shower throughout the act, then jump in the shower. He said it was a courtesy thing.

At the time I laughed a little and we passed along to the next topic. Yanking it came to mind earlier today and I thought about my friend's routine. I've never noticed that the act of cranking one out to be especially loud. Coitus, on the other hand, can be very loud and impassioned. I have yet to find myself scream out in ecstasy while self-climaxing. I doubt I am "doing it wrong", as I achieve the end product without fail.

Either my friend, the shower hand, and I have different ideas of what proper familial courtesy is, or I am lacking something.

I figure I am lacking something, as spanking it, or self-love as it is referred to in some circles, doesn't seem to be an engaging activity. I went skateboarding today. I have never gone masturbatin' . That would make a funny sign for a door, as opposed to gone fishin'.

(It is possible though. There are places where one can go to ejaculate: ie. while viewing a peep show. For that matter, there are accounts of people being arrested for choking the chicken in public places, or in their cars. I think I once read of a judge who was dismissed from duty for doing it while on the job.)

I suppose it is more along the lines of washing the dishes for me: if my boner is in the way, I will attend to it. I suppose I think of it as separate from me, my schlong that is: I can see it turning its head to me afterwards, saying, "Much appreciated Alexander. Same time next week?"

body break

When I spent my time around drunk people last night, it was annoying. The same feeling got to me when we went to a bar. I was annoyed, and the people didn't look as good as usual. It was darker in the bar too, seemed like it at least. It was louder.

With no booze in my system, not a drop, I got to stand around for a change. That is, I got to stand around instead of bouncing around swinging my arms, being a bother to be-toqued dudes with gruff facial hair patterning.

Leopard-print wearing sluts are still leopard-print wearing, but their thighs are thicker to my eyes. It is a noticeable difference. She asked if I could "help her" with her clear plastic mickey of, what was it again? Black velvet? Some cheap rum, the one with the yellow label. I declined and she thought I was ugly, I suppose, in her head. She was still fat.

A band was playing inside and they were hypnotic. Seemed to me like they didn't need the audience there, and that our presence was kind of inconsequential. The band was there, doing there thing.

A concerned fellow to my left turned around, somewhere between 11:30 and midnight and told the two larger fellows to "go to a canucks game". They were booing the band on stage, in anticipation of, I guess, the Glory Days DJs. I appreciated this comment by the smaller gent. He was also there for the electronic music, I could tell by his toque and fitted jeans, but he was tolerant of this band, all the way from Colorado here entertaining a crowd that barely existed to them.

my thick spit is hell of brown

Bataille on my mind due to all types of shit going on around. Taking it, spitting it up, getting up before the sun and taking a shit and going to school and shitting it all up again for teachers to take it.

Damn it all to hell sometimes.

I think I am over fucking. It's too much to bother with and I am no good at lying anyways. If you need to reach me, I will be in the back yard doing some work and not having any. I would make love but I haven't got any to spare.

This will be hell of fun.

new media!

David is tumblrin', I'm twitterin', but this ain't the Web 2.0.

As my brother says, "It's all a gradual, and slow, process, man. Not like the tubes just turned over a new leaf one day".

http://twitter.com/alexandermunro

reruns on chalkedup

http://www.chalkedup.com/daily/hppy-nw-yr-srsly


NEW CLASSES NEW BOOKS NEW TEACHERS SAME RAIN
go spring semester

savant garde

Hello,

I have been lazy. HotClique still lives. My commitment to posting on a regular basis as waned in recent times. I still surf the internet though:

http://birdpack.tumblr.com

as they say,

"BRB"

all-over-the-world-print

The inscription says something along the lines of "everyone one has a homeland, except us... our homeland lives in us." Its a designers comment on the situation of Palestinians in Lebanon.

They are babes (and may possibly hate our decadent Western lifestyle... I see a possible love story - boy meets fundamental girl, arbitrary borders separate them, American freedom fighters put girl in danger, Canadian peacekeepers provide boy a chance to save girl and redeem their patrio-nationalistic values, love.)

I wonder what the people, closer to us, homelandless, homeless, would create given a chance to stroll the runway. Derelict? Ive seen some amazing things on people walking the streets. I doubt the combination were by choice.