Archive for January, 2010


Our third essay in Composition is supposed to be ten to twelve pages long on the topic of “who is your inspiration, and how have they played in a part in you pursuing what it is that you are pursing?” (I’m sure that there’s a more elegant way to say that.)

It doesn’t necessarily have to be why you’re at SCAD – the professor clarified this after someone raised their hand and said, “But my muse is Jesus Christ” (I think I might have audibly LOLed) – but, that would probably play into it.

So I figured that I would make a list of possibilities that I have to choose from to help me narrow it down and get started.

John Cameron Mitchell

I think that we all know by now how I fee about JCM (and OMG how cute is he in that picture?!) and while I could definitely write twelve pages on him and and the pretend relationship that I like to imagine we have, I already wrote about him and Hedwig for my first essay.

John Waters

JWat is a fairly viable option for this. In fact, he might be the best option. He’s a strange little man with even stranger obsessions. However, it’s possible that I’ll be immediately expelled from the film program for citing him as inspiration. Besides, JWat left (read: was expelled for smoking pot in his dorm room) NYU, where he would have studied film, within his first month there in order to go out and make movies on his own.

Andy Warhol

SO FUCKING CLICHE I DON’T EVEN WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT. Plus, let’s be honest here. His movies are fucking boring.

Todd Solondz

I have always imagined that any movies I write/make would be closest in tone to those made by Mr. Solondz. I really don’t know much about him…maybe this is a good opportunity to learn more?

Eddie Izzard

Okay, now this has just become a list of people I like. But while we’re talking about Eddie, last night I watched his documentary BELIEVE: The Eddie Izzard Story. Now, I know that you’re thinking, “I luv Eddie, but why did this bitch need a documentary?” and I have to admit that I thought the same thing. But after watching it for free online (courtesy of EpixHD) I found it to be funny, sweet, and surprisingly touching. My favorite part? That Eddie missed the Emmy ceremony where he won two Emmy’s for Dressed to Kill, to be on location shooting All the Queens Men! LOLx1000!!

Britney Jean Spears

Similar to the person who asked about using Jesus Christ for their paper.

In conclusion…I don’t know who I’m going to choose. But I have a few weeks to figure it out.

Best Wishes,



The Pursuit of Happiness

So here I am, 3AM, sitting in my bed, and blogging from my phone (because my roommate is asleep and I don’t want to wake him with loud tapping on the keyboard). And at this very moment, although my night was somewhat a failure, I can honestly say I am very content with what I do have.

You see, not too long ago I told some of my friends that my goal for the semester was to get insanely drunk and wake up in some strange girl’s bed (hopefully strange in the sense that I don’t know her, not in the sense that she’s just bizarre). Of course I was mostly kidding– there are so many issues that stem from drunken one night stands: STDs, awkwardness, rape, pregnancy scares, etc. Trust me, I know. But there was still a little part of me that did want it. The “hook-up” is arguably the most popular form of relationship on campus (or at least the most public). In fact, hook-ups are almost the defining characteristic of any college’s social scene.

So why wouldn’t I want what was considered normal? I came to college with the expectation that I’d be going to crazy, themed frat parties, meeting random people and hooking up with them, if sobreity was no longer a hinderance.

I was disappointed on all counts. It was this elusive lifestyle that I wanted so much but found I never could fit into. I’m nothing like the guys at the frats with the girls crawling over them for the free booze and company. I don’t even mean that in a condescending way. We really are just different.

But today was the first weekend of the new semester, and it’s the beginning of a new decade. Now is the perfect time to change. Right?

This whole week I was looking forward to the parties tonight. It was going to be my first step into normalcy, the first time I would feel like I belonged to something. Plus recently I’d been hearing Kid Cudi’s “Pursuit of Happiness” playing on TV…

My pursuit of happiness was the ideal, somewhat steretypical college life fueled by alcohol, sex, and social ambition. I have friends who’ve accomplished it and are truly happy in college right now. Why couldn’t I fins my way in? I blamed my failure on everything but myself– the frat parties were too lame, the other guys were just more fit and attractive and the girls too shallow, I had not met the right people yet, I didn’t have anyone to really party with, the people in my dorm would never accomodate that lifestyle, and the list goes on.

But this time it would be different. This time I would stay at the party until I met new people. I would get drunk and just enjoy life. Just like in the Kid Cudi video.

Unsurprisingly, I was disappointed yet again. Unlike the Kid Cudi music video, I wasn’t drinking fancy champagne, I was drinking a mysterious blue concoction and I also didn’t have any room to dance and jump around. In fact, it was so packed, it was hard to simultaneously move and breathe. Although I was sprayed by various liquids, it wasn’t in the good spirits of popped champagne– people just kept on bumping into me and spilling their drinks.

After about 45 minutes of that, my friends and I immediately decided to leave. We tried to get into another frat party but there was no more space left inside and a crowd was building on the stoop. Out of options, we decided to go to the school-run late night eatery. There we ate fries, chips and an abandoned, unopened soda while playing Taboo. It wasn’t at all what we had planned for the night. But I had a legitimately good time, and I wasn’t even buzzed by that point (a cup of blue stuff and a beer wouldn’t last me even an hour).

Now that I’m back in the comfort of my bed, I’ve come to realize just what the destination of my pursuit of happiness is. I don’t think I’ll strive anymore to meet every person in the school, or to be able to walk around campus giving “what’s up man?”‘s to the thousands of guys I’m buddies with.

At home, in high school, and, now I’ve finally realized, here in New York, I only need a few friends, board games, and a little (or a lot of) alcohol to go around to have happiness.

But if any girls are willing, I wouldn’t mind trying the “hook-up” thing. Afterall, you don’t know until you’ve tried!

Deadly Illusions, Installment Two

By popular demand, here is the next installment of Josh’s soap operature, Deadly Illusions.

Read Installment One first!

May 10, 2005

Now we leave Terry and Klein to discover Terry’s daughter, Debby, and her stay at Yale University.

As Debby laid in bed, she pondered about all the work she had to finish. Oh crap. I have a final today. Why didn’t I study? Why didn’t I drink that 12 pack of Red Bulls? Why did I have to go to that party and get raped and wasted at the same time?

“Some party last night huh?” said Brad, lying naked under the covers with her. Debby knew she had known her rapist, but she never knew he would be that recognizable.

“Yeah, I had a great time,” Debby said as she edged closer and closer to Brad, “but between getting stoned and being raped I forgot what happened. Could you remind me?” Debby edged closer and closer and ran her fingers down his hairy chest-


As Debby woke up from her slumber, all she could hear was a persistent ringing and a white surface that smelled like stale yogurt on a summer day in the end of July. She soon found that the ringing noise was her alarm clock and the white surface was her textbook. What time is it? she thought. It was 7:30. Oh sh*t! My final is at 7:45! I’ll never make it in time!

Once again Debby had bought the 12 pack of Red Bulls and pulled an all nighter to study for her Philosophy final. But if Debby did not make it into that classroom by 7:45, she would automatically fail her class. In a hurry, Debby changed into presentable clothes and fixed her hair. 7:50! Oh crap, i’ll never make it.

Debby raced to her class, but it all seemed like a blur. She got to the classroom at 7:44 and she walked into the classroom, sweating and tired, yet ready to take the test. During the test, she felt a sudden urge to puke. It’s just the nerves Debby! I’ve been waiting so long to take this test, I can’t ruin it! Despite her attempts to hold back the vomit, Debby vomited all over the desk and floor, ruining her test, and the unfortunate person who was sitting next to her’s pair of jeans. Great. I got an F.

“Looks like somebody got an F!” said the professor as he joked around with the class. “Anyone want to take her to the nurse? No? Eh. We’ll just leave her there for the next 5 hours.”

5 hours later…

Debby walked out of the room sick and dazed. She had vomited 6 times after her first spell. “Thanks for all the help Professor Lockwood.”
“No problem Debby. Before you go, can I tell you something?”
“Lock the door first Debby.”
“I said LOCK IT BITCH! IF YOU DON’T I’M GOING TO F*CKING EXECUTE EVERY LAST ONE OF YOU!” In horror, Debby screamed. Great am I going to get raped? I really can’t deal with getting raped right now, especially now that Jangles, my pet Chihuahua, has run away.
“Sorry! Did I scare you? Its a line from Pulp Fiction. Really good movie.”
“Oh, for a minute there I was happy.”
“Don’t ask.”
“Ok… well I um. Just wanted to talk to you about last night. I just want to assure you that you will pass this class no matter what. That is, unless you tell people.”
“Just because I gave you a foot massage?”
“No, not that,, a few weeks ago.”
Debby could remember it all now. She was at a party, and Professor Lockwood was there. He offered her a drink. And then she had passed out. When she woke up she was in his classroom, naked, without panties. She never knew what had happened.
“Debby, don’t worry about what happened to you last night.”
“What happened to me last night?”
“You were raped.”
“By who?”
“By someone who I hired to rape you. Jesus! You should stop smoking pot. It’s really hurting your memory.”
“I was raped again?”
“I knew I had gotten you pregnant, so I hired someone else to rape you so that the baby couldn’t be traced back to me.”
“What? That makes absolutely no sense.”
“Shut up! This is a soap opera, it never does, but you never say it.”
“Oh sorry.”
“It’s fine. Do you want a drink?”

Dazed, Debby went back to her apartment and thought about what had just happened. I’m pregnant? I was raped 3 times? Wait. Three? Once by Professor Lockwood, once by Professor Lockwood’s hired rapist. I know there was a third. But who?

At that second, her mom called, wanting to check in.
“How did your final go?”
“Fine, I guess. I vomited, but I still got an A.”
“Did you drink milk before you went like I told you?”
“Yes mom…”

And then she remembered. She had gone to her parent’s home for the weekend and she was raped. By the milkman!

“Debby? Honey? Is there anything wrong?”
“No mom, nothing at all.”


Deadly Illusions

I think that it’s finally time to share this with the world. (Plus I really have nothing to say, but feel bad about neglecting this blog.)

Back at the end of eighth grade, Josh wrote several installments of a Soap Operature* he titled Deadly Illusions.

I randomly remembered that is existed today and went back to see if I could find it. You are in luck, dear readers, because I did!

So, please enjoy installment one of Deadly Illusions, written by a thirteen year old Josh. In it, you will find humor revolving around rape, domestic abuse, and violence. So in short, he hasn’t changed a bit! (Although in it’s original form, Josh starred all the bad words, “F*ck”, etc. I guess that while domestic abuse was acceptable, cursing was not. I unedited them for your reading pleasure.)

May 9, 2005

As Terry got ready for the day’s work, she reflected upon all she had accomplished. A great husband, 2 sons and a daughter. I’m also climbing the corporate ladder to more money and a great view in my office, complete with minibar, air conditioning, leather couch, intercom, doorbell, putting green, widescreen plasma TV, endless selection of movies, and a little basket ball hoop to shoot paper balls in. Wow. I’m great. Her thoughts were interrupted when her husband walked in the room.

“Two sons?”, Klein, her husband, said as he walked in. “I thought we only had one.”
Oh shit, Terry thought. Was I really thinking out loud?
“Well, I can’t forget the dog right?” One smart cookie you are Terry, thought Terry, in third person, I dug myself out of that one.
“We don’t have a dog.”
Buddha! I can’t get ANYTHING past this fucker! “I didn’t mean that dog…” Terry said as voluptuously as possible while pointing to his… you know… package.
“You mean there is a dog in here! FedEx just dropped it off!”
“Oh forget it,” Terry said as she wiped the sweat from her forehead. But she wasn’t lying. She had two sons. One’s name was Monroe, and he was off at college. Her second son was standing right in front of her, eagerly opening his FedEx package believing there was a live dog inside. At least he will never find out.

Sweet! A puppy is in here! Klein thought as he ripped away at the packaging tape. When he finally opened the box he discovered a single envelope. It was from a man name Henry. How anti-climatic. Who the hell FedEx’s a letter? After Klein opened the letter, he took a few minutes to read it, even though it was only a sentence, but Buddha knows that Klein isn’t that smart of a guy.
“WHERE THE HELL IS MY PUPPY BITCH!” Klein screamed after he read the letter. With great dramatization and oomph, he slapped her across the face. Then he shoved her onto the ground and kicked her in the stomach. “I TOLD YOU NOT TO LIE TO ME! DO YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU LIE? YOU GET FUCKED OVER!”
“I’m sorry! Please stop! Your ruining my hair!” Terry apologized.
In a fit of tears, Klein ran out of the room, sobbing, “I really wanted my puppy!”
Dumb ass. At least now, I might have a miscarriage. He’ll never know that I’m carrying the milk man’s baby.
In Klein’s fit of anger and sadness, he left the letter behind, lying on the floor. In the letter it said,

Klein, I am your father and I will tell you everything about your wife… or your mother.


*Soap Operature, noun. A written soap opera. Literally, opera + literature.

Fashion Trend Alert!

What do Tim Curry and Britney Spears have in common? Besides for being objects of worship, they’re also making stains fashionable. In a world where people are too scared to go out with something on their clothing, Tim and Brit and standing up and saying, “I have stained my clothes and I am proud.” We would be wise to follow their example.

Tim Curry's famous bleach stain, as witnessed by Josh and Elaine at the LA Festival of Books in May of 2008.

Britney Spears, shopping in January of 2010 with two stains on her top.

We will continue to cover this fearless fashion trend and let you know how it progresses in American culture. Stain on, brothers and sisters. Stain on.

2010 Resolutions

Well, here I am in the great state of Georgia. Alone. In my dorm room. (Don’t worry, I had breakfast with a friend and even took the ten minute drive with her to South Caroline to visit her horse this morning.) But anyways, I figured that since I have a couple hours between possible social interactions, I would write down some New Years resolutions. You can still do that after New Years Eve, right?

  1. Keep a little, hand written journal and write what happened every day. So many little things happen and then they just disappear after you forget them, so I thought that this would be a good way to remember. Like today I went to CVS and bought Pop Tarts. I wouldn’t want to ever forget that.  (So far, going good.)
  2. Visit Club SCAD on occasion. (Not yet. But hey, I just got here last night.)
  3. Try and make some new friends/improve current friendships here at college. (South Carolina was a good start!)
  4. Continue to spread the message of Britney Jean Spears to the masses. (I wore my Britney scarf today.)
  5. Find a wonderful roomie(s) for next year. (Possibly already successful!)

And I guess that’s all can think of so far. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

Perhaps Josh will add his to this since he has another two weeks to sit at home and cuddle with his dogs.



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