Saturday, October 25, 2003

So tonight at the college is a little school-sponsored event entitled the Fall Ball. Dress is "As formal as you wanna be" meaning, in my case, not fucking very. I asked two people if going, getting food, and then leaving was a douche thing to do. And both said no. Both these people are planning to go, and it would be their fun I would be wrecking with my not-dancing, wearing the same thing I wore all day, and thinking about how much I hate gatherings.

However, I have resolved this much: Not to talk about my hatred of gatherings at the large gathering. See, I am slowly learning the ins and outs of social decorum.

Not that I'm becoming less anti-social. In fact, I'm probably becoming more so. Now, rather than talk about my hatred of gatherings in the hopes of meeting some kindred spirit and actually having a genuine human connection (which is always what it was, it was never just catharsis and misanthropy) I'll write about it for the fucking internet and my small audience (let's say five people read this) of people I've already met and talk to on a regular basis so I can type it out and not have this actual conversation with them.

You know what softens the blow of the Saturday night home alone? Blasting music out of your stereo. FedEx picked it up last week for inspection to see if they owed money, but instead of doing that, they shipped it back to New Jersey.

No blow is softened, my own personal cancer remains uncured. And so concludes this broadcast. I was thinking I'd have this thing online for a week and then just have it self-destruct but I think I'm going to self-destruct instead.

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