It’s increasingly difficult to complain here. That’s a direct effect of publicity. “I will do this using Capitalism” is syndicated on multiple websites. Past, present and future employers review my writings. What I say here can and has had serious repercussions in my life.
But, nothing worth doing is easy!
This week, I hated Sunday because it was full of antifun. Throughout the day, I helplessly and continuously pissed off my friends. In turn, I was transported back to my teens with derisive commentary on my self-motivation and questions like “why do you speak like that?” Fuck, that is one of my least favourite sentences. I can remember multiple occasions when a younger and more temperamental Scott disregarded the speaker and simply started swinging.
And, of course, there were arguments. Ranging from drunken agreements about COINTELPRO to drunken disagreements about the Green Revolution. These, seemingly inevitably, segued into ad hominem attacks. Newsflash kids: I’m 25 and long ago accepted my social awkwardness. Rejoinders with it as the primary focus boil down to yelling “FACE” louder.
Monday morning’s conclusion: it’s never a party without me playing the part of a tool.
Antifun has the handy property of reacting with fun in what’s technically referred to as the “antifun-fun reaction.” Without making up too many details, the two discrete particles annihilate each other when they collide. What remains afterward is pure energy capable of powering both starships and my enthusiasm. My gameplan is to finish every item on my week’s rather short todo, drive to the westside on Thursday, and not have a single long-term memory until Sunday.
Oh, and hey if the Universe isn’t big on simple math. The Capital Hill Block Party (feat. Blue Scholars, the Blood Brothers, Against Me!, Aesop Rock, Mirah, and some other bands we don’t care about yet) + Rat City Rollergirls = CRAZY DELICIOUS
It’s finals - who’s with me?