the rbcs were suspicious of me at first... perhaps it was my size
anyway, they placed a marshmellow in front of me and said that if i didn't eat it i would get another one in ten minutes
i ate it the moment they went away
the rbcs came after ten minutes and scolded me
i screamed shouted clawed kicked and did a number of violent things until they gave me another marshmellow
i was accepted in from that moment on
: )

The question from Psychology Magazine

If given the choice of a super power which would you choose:

1. To Fly like super man

2. To be invisible


Future freshmen wants to fly because I can go anywhere I want without taking a plane

(John says "Ya, but if you were invisible you could just walk on a pane and not pay."

FF says "I just thought about that too...But if I'm in a bad mood I can fly like a bird to release pressure. maybe go to outer space and never come back.

JC whats in outer space?"

FF I could meet aliens

JC I'm an alien.

FF How's your life in outer space

JC Its great! No students! Nobody needs them... Do you think english teachers are aliens?

FF No, except john, who is sitting next to me now and talking nonsense

JC Actually, the reason I asked the question is because, test results showed that most women would rather be invisible than fly. The psychologist who said this stated that women have a lot of pressure put on them from society; to be pretty, skinny, ect. so women would choose to be invisible more often than choose flying...however...your a woman...and you want to fly....hmmm."

FF I'm not ugly at all so I don't need to be invisible...If I'm invisible no one can talk to me, ask me for my phone # or, see my beautiful face. Here is another reason I choose to fly, because if I get up late, I can wear my uniform, brush my teeth, and fly to school in seconds.

JC (John is thinking) But maybe if you can fly, then people will start calling you "that flying girl" and that would change the way people see you...isn't beauty in the eye of the beholder? What If people start seeing you as a UFO....Uniformed Flying Object instead of a beauty queen

FF So in the first place that's why I said I wanted to be BOTH BOTH BOTH! And I think only JC will see me as a UFO, and other people will only say" Whao, look there is a beautiful fairy flying in the sky." lol

JC In Texas they shoot fairies

It seems you have spoken directly to an rbc
as you seem to have knowledge I'm not aware of...
being elderly has its down side.

If I approach a rbc and try to be hip, hang out, "keep it real"
they immediately think I'm an undercover cop and scatter like wild dogs
covering they're traces with red wine vinegar.


however, I'm quiet informed about the nature of the sacred coconut tree.
in my youth I would vacation there on the rbc's holiest of holy nights
when the moon turned blue and spoke the truth to all adorned with coconut hats
Some believe it is the voice of the supreme mother tampon herself who speaks to all

She told me I shouldn't bother getting car insurance or bother learning to tie a tie

Soon you should confront the holy T. For yourself and see what she says to you.

I warn you...as punk rock as the rbc's may seem. They are deftly afraid of the sight of blood.
hence the tampons...it's even been said that some rbcs are in fact bloodless...possible, seeing how coconut milk can substitute for blood plasma.

i have decided to venture into the island of rbcs

but this time, i did some research before hand (i've been informed about their destructive temper tantrums, i fear that they won't take the same back calling measures that the asps did)

i found out that rbcs not only worship tampons and youth...
they have a special understanding with death
how extreme
rbcs believe that when they feel the time has come, they wrap themselves in a peice of grade A tampon and bounce into the sea
they feel that this is respect for the coconut trees (i think they refuse to worship the sun stars and moon, too common)

of course the grade A tampon makes them bob up and down for a while before they can drown

i think i am going to bring a pack of lavender scented tampons as a peace offering
is the coconut tree ritual considered suicide?
i wonder how would any rebel baby carrot be able to decide that "that's it! i am going now!"
perhaps a trigger is switched on or something
will studying intensely push the button

i think i should go pay homage to the rebel baby carrots
i wonder what would they do to me if i brought them condoms instead?

turning point

When I was a still a child, I even didn't know what English actually was.
One year, there was a small cram school showed up next to my home.
When i was seven, my dad took me to that cram school, and learned English.
Because i just relaxed and had no pressure to talk with foreign teachers.
It provoked my interest in English
And i think my journey of learning English had begun from then.
When i was junior, i chose to study in T.K, and the school put great emphasis on English education.
it really changed my life, from then on, i decided to major in foreign languages.
When i graduate from University, I'll go broad to learn more.
And I'll get more about the local culture!

Not just any carrot,

you need to seek the island of rebel infants baby carrots.

rebel baby carrots (or, R.B.C's)

often refuse to grow up, namely because

they picture all other vegetables as being stiff, and they refuse to turn spherical things into playthings, and they refuse to take on the shape of the pyramid. This angers most adult carrots beyond belief. Not only that, being punk rock as they are, instead of reaching their full state of pyramid shaped maturity, they have decided to take on the shape and scale of a tampon...coincidence, I think not. Namely that Pyramid worship is something associated with a Patriarchy, the R.B.C.'s have taken the opposite road of worship, namely, liberating female hygiene products.

Seeking political independence from all other vegetables

they have succeeded in creating an independent island unto themselves

where only youth is worshipped

It's like lord of the flies, but only with a cast of friendly, kibbitznik, rbcs

no wonder i think i heard the asps calling me the concited body worshiper behind my back...
i refused to bathe with them the day i arrived...gosh, maybe from that moment they tagged me as "you know what"
perhaps i should go find a pack of carrots and find out more about their sphere theary

Nudity among the ancient asparagus is commonplace
It is only of recently that the lesser vegs. have grown accustomed to self consciousness
Hence the reason robust carrots create elaborate rituals in order to touch one another, namely football, baseball, any ball will do, Carrots have long developed a complex of all things spherical and in their in ability to understand anything well rounded they have decided to turn all well rounded things into well...playthings, while they leave the serious matters of self worship to be left to things shaped like pyramids or the 101. A Well informed Carrot named Noble Eisenhower once stated that "everyone secretly worships themselves." Ancient Asparagus, well aware of the pitfalls of such notions, have developed elaborate bathing rituals of communal nudity in order to curve any asparagus of developing a sense of superiority. And well. They have been known to reveal themselves in dreams, in the buff, revealing all they are, in order to let potential BoHo Asps to know they are welcome, yes...the dream was an invitation.

Come As You Are
As you were
As I want you to be

-the heartless veg.

the bohemian asparaguses don't know what to do with me

i don't know what to do with them

the white-rooted asparagus(top of their clan i presume) said that i was supposed to vision their clan of asparaguses dancing naked

what the?!?!

i don't know what to do with the sunflower either

ever since i visioned it

it has come annoying me everytime i sleep

it comes to me with an arogant kind of look

i don't believe that every bohemian asparagus visioned the dancing naked scene

who would?

and when i annouced that i had visioned the sunflower

lots of them gave my a knowing surprised look

how obvious is that!

the water melon opened up to me today
48 hours of threats and no sleep was just too much for it
(okay i admit i had to scratch it a couple of times)

on it i wrote down my fears
1. i fear that i will get fat (is fatophobic a word?)
2. i fear that i won't be able to go to a uni that satisfys me
3. i am afraid of the tingly feeling that you get when you ride a rollar coaster
4. i am afraid that i will find myself alone and old with two cats named fluffy and kitty when i get up in the morning

then i started to look inside myself
(it was a weird funny feeling, but it felt like the most natural thing to do)
under a pile of picture books i saw a sunflower
or should i say shadeflower?
it bent not towards the sun
but towards the darkness
the sunflower wouldn't hear my cries as i told to the follow the light
it bent stubbornly and wouldn't turn
i coaxed it and pleaded but it only told me this:
what you see now is who you are
you made these choices
you can also make changes, if you really wish
i bend to the darkness because is if you peer carefully
the real light dazzeles from within

sunflowers are so darn self-centered!

Obama mamma

"Senior Three life?...NO!"

I feel like I'm smashed when I have the same routine everyday. Teachers are talking,talking talking every day blah blah blah blah blah! I have discussed this question with my sister before. "Why do all these teachers can't have empathy to understand what it is like in our shoes?" My sister says it is because they probably don't have children. BUT! My teachers have children. Everyone of them (I don't) john says. But they still can't consider our situation as students.

TOP THREE BOOKS I WILL BURN SOON!!!!

1. History
2. History
3. English

History: When I was little I did not like to read historic stories. So that is why I can't do well in history. The second reason is that I don't have a good teacher to lead me. I'm so depressed, because I still can't find a good way to study history. I think we should not read history WE ARE MODERN PEOPLE! Although some people say we can learn from history, I don't think so.

English: I think we can't learn English by text books. If we study this way, our passion to learn English becomes lower and lower every year. I think it is a good way to learn English by watching movies, talking with foreigners. It's more practical and sexy

WHAT I WANT TO SAY TO DEGUANG

Three years ago my teacher told me to stay in T.K. But I have many regrets now. One one hand I have to go to cram school during Senior Three so why do I have to spend so much tuition for this school? If I study in a National H.S. I don't need to pay so much money. On the other hand, Students is T.K. are very eclectic. One good thing: I can earn certificates here! Thanks to those stupid competitions!

Paris

Before I became a Senior Three I had heard that this is a terrible period for all students.
When I became a Senior Three I think life is like a circle of multiple explanations I make for myself everyday. I'm kind of sensitive, and I like to observe my surroundings and try to persuade myself to move to an optimistic view point on life. I have encountered many difficulties but I like to challenge myself to find out what I can do.

Top Three school books to burn when I graduate.

1. History
2. Math
3. Geography

History: The teacher makes me angry! She always interferes with my own schedule. She says the same thing everyday. Like a broken record.

Math: I don't think I have an emotional connection with this subject.

Geography: In this subject the exam covers a broad range of information outside the text book. You need to study and gain other information not in the book.

WHAT I WANT TO SAY TO DEGUANG

"I enrolled in T.K. for the first time as a Senior Two, so it is hard for me not compare T.K. to my first High School and I think T.K. is too strict and commercial. They don't give students a chance to learn for themselves, telling us what to think."

The Future freshmen

First of all I'm excited about being senior three.
Because I wonder what life will be in the future.
After I became a senior three student I felt a lot of pressure
from homework and tests everyday

Everyday I wish I can finish the entrance exam as fast as possible
so I can be a university student and burn all my H.S. School books.

Jenny's top three books that should be burned and why:

1. Geography
2. History
3. Math

Although our geography teacher is interesting I don't like to remember boring things that are complicated.

History is also boring and the teacher is annoying. He always gives a lot of tests and says, "you have to remember "this this and this." The best way to learn history very well is to learn it from our daily lives.

My Math sucks! Learning math is all about pluses and minuses and equals and....you just need to count money! You don't need to know about circles and other strange shapes!


life: There is a sweet side and a horrible side

The sweet side is that with great pressure, comes great friends who always support you with encouragement. Your friends give you energy, like sugar.

The horrible side is that every morning when I wake up I think about how many days are left that I have to study, even though I work really hard to remember what I study I still forget everything I learned after a couple of weeks.

WHAT I WANT TO SAY TO DEGUANG:

"The teachers in T.K. are super good, they always have patience to teach something I don't understand and the bad side of T.K. is that the school always demands us to stay at school during the evenings like prisoners."

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and
sat down under the huge sahde of a Southern Pacific Locomotive
to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole
companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul
bleak and blue and sad-eyed
surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery

The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun
sank on top of final frisco peaks, no fish in that stream
no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves
rheumy-eyed and hung over like old bums on the riverbank,
tired and wily

Look at the sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky
big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust

I rushed up enchanted. It was my first sunflower.
memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem
and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes
Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black
treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the
poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel
knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck
and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the
past--
and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset,
crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog
and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--
corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like
a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face,
soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays
obliterated on its hairy head like a dried
wire spiderweb,
leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures
from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster
fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,
Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O
my soul, I loved you then!
The grime was no man's grime but death and human
locomotives,
all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad
skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black
mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance
of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--
modern--all that civilization spotting your
crazy golden crown--
and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless
eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the
home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar
bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards
of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely
tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what
more could I name, the smoked ashes of some
cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the
milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs
& sphincters of dynamos--all these
entangled in your mummied roots--and you there
standing before me in the sunset, all your glory
in your form!
A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent
lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye
to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited
grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden
monthly breeze!
How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your
grime, while you cursed the heavens of the
railroad and your flower soul?
Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a
flower? when did you look at your skin and
decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive?
the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and
shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?
You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a
sunflower!
And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me
not!
So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck
it at my side like a scepter,
and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul
too, and anyone who'll listen,
--We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread
bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all
beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we're blessed
by our own seed & golden hairy naked
accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black
formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our
eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive
riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening
sitdown vision.

Allen Ginsberg
Berkeley, 1955

if this was a fairy tale, i suppose i would have to rush into the old granny's house, save her cockatoo(who just happens to be my prince charming) and discover that the old granny was just loney and needed some love and companionship.

but it isn't
too bad

i did find the old granny's house and i found out that her name is agatha
i never liked agathas

behind the prickly pears and watery tomatos
i saw THE PEAS
they looked a bit malnurished though
more liked wind dried california peas
i tried to venture into the yard
but whenever i stepped on it
the cockatoo would start screaming it's lung out
damn cockatoo

i think i'll try the eat you inside out threat to the water melon

Perhaps the holy melon wasn't in season

Stay clear of the Granny of the Peas! She sleeps in a hammock full of used coffee grinds and despises sugar, hence her obession with lurid peas. "WORLD OF PEAS WORLD OF PEAS WORLD OF PEAS" her demented cockatoo screams into the midnight hours from her modestly designed bird cage purchased at IKEA. Granny Pea has lured many with her garden, tempting all who come her way with the prospects of being transformed into a Sicilian Blood Orange; Only to have your dreams reduced to becomming just another podded pea. Her dreams were crushed by an ancient prickly pear who stole her heart and she has never really gotten over it.

Try the melon once again. This time take kidnap him in black trash bag and take him to the ledge of a very high building. Holy Water Melons sometimes need a good threat in order to get cracking on promising visions of the future.

the spirit of the holy water melon told me that i was not fit to enter the clan
it said that my future has been already decided by a pod of peas
the leader pea went into a strange trance six years ago
the holy water melon said that it couldn't interfere with the peas
(i think it said something about being eaten inside out)
the melon however told me that i must go on a quest to find the pod of peas
it said the peas are located at a scary old granny's yard

the last thing it said was this
BEWARE OF THE OLD GRANNY
SHE OWNS THE STICK OF PEAPODS

The tribe of bohemian asparagus have spoken.

They will officially except you as a member only after you channel
the spirit of a holy water melon.

You will receive a shamanistic vision of your future in which you will devote yourself wholly or not.

You will receive a blank melon. roughly about 2.85 kg. The size and weight of "your" melon.

You must write your fears upon this melon, then work yourself into a state of trance, method of choice among bohemian asparagus's of old being the music of an obese human beat box named curly from Detroit.

until you co-axe the spirit of the holy melon to possess your body, you will have entered only the periphery stages of your asparagessence. Next...comes the briny dead sea sneakers challenge.

who is Amy Feist?

One Two Three Four
I don't love you anymore
Sleeping tight good night
my youth lost nevermore

stripped women tatoos the only sign of my youth
Left you with everything but took away love
your dying heart
who do you think you are

Sweetheart Bitterheart they are all wilting hearts
Sharp sunbeams, the horse hates pulling the cart

tatoos prickle blood holding on
Too scared to let time slip by

your dying heart
who do you think you are

one two three four five six nine or ten
Money took away the love that you had then
one two three four five six nine or ten
Money took away the love that you had then

your dying heart
who do you think you are
your dying your heart
who do you think you are
who do you think you are

I found a clan of bohemian asparaguses

Amy Feist is definetly a Bohemian asparagus

One Two Three Four
Tell me that you love me more
Sleepless long nights
That is what my youth is for

Old Teenage hopes are alive at your door
Left you with nothing but they want some more

your changing your heart
you know who you are

Sweetheart Bitterheart now I can tell you ap[art
Cosy and cold, put the horse before the cart

Those teenage hopes who have tears in their eyes
Too scared to own up to one little lie

your changing your heart
you know who you are

one two three four five six nine or ten
Money can't buy the love that you had then
one two three four five six nine or ten
Money can't buy the love that you had then

your changing your heart
you know who you are
your changing your heart
you know who you are
who your are

The heartless vegetable is the hollow man.

a bohemian asparagus you say?
that'll explain the pee and my tendency to avoid the sun
maybe my conscious knows that if i get too much sun i'll turn green

do schools accept bohemian asparaguses?

who was the hollow man in the wind-up bird?

maybe i should travel to the desert to regain my lost memories
how should i explain to mom?
um mom
i'm a bohemian asparagus
i need to go do some self-discovery
is there something about my childhood you didn't tell me?
be honest
i don't think university is really a priority right now
i have more important things to do

how did you know about you being a bohemian asparagus?!?!
honey, we still love you
who told you?!?!

oh, john

you mean the english teacher?

ya, the balding one
i'll go pack now

It seems you may have an identity crisis.

I think you may have amnesia, have wondered off from the

lost pack of travelling asparagus you were born into.

You see, quiet honestly...your a bohemian asparagus

a desert wanderer who is slightly self conscious about the way your pee smells

a nomadic Bedouin traveling over oceans of unforgiving sands..

It is not your fault. No one is really quiet sure what to do with bohemian asparagus

The Heartless Veg.

am i still a teen?
only teens have the right to die their hair purple or blue or rainbow
or you could shave it all off
i mean if you shave off your hair during you thirty somethings
people will think that you're going bald

i don't think people would mind if i got a tatoo of naked women all over my back
if they ask about it when i turn old
i'll just say i was a teen
they'll probaby give me a sympathetic knowing look

potatos are digged up, not pulled
the purple potatos told me
they also said that the biggest wish for every purple potato is to become a black carrot they used to all want to be white truffles but that was so 2007
black carrots are the new pink!

When the doves cry do they come off like pigeons

Are you Prince?

Tell me?

Have so seen the tourists of St. Marks Square?

We love a tragedy because it allows us to speak russian

Only Russians know how to write sorrow. they do knot show it off like a hard earned scar, nor do

they become victims.

In youth we embrace the equal opposite

The elderly feed the pigeons of New York

I wonder how many takes Prince had to sit in a bath tub to get his hair just right.

"No..Stop!!! Again...This time with more feeling"

He can write.

Purple Rain was his best James Dean

Purple follows youth like hormones accompany teen agers

The word teen did not exist until Elvis. You went from child to adult and worked the family farm

during summer, perhaps pulling potoatos.

One never can tell...enjoy Prince! Next comes the cure

that purple potato thinks he is very special and important
but the problem is that there is nothing in this world to prove it
it has to do everything with all the other potatos
(getting boiled, being packed, having no personal life, yada yada yada)
so i guess that potato decided if it tried hard enough to be different from the other potatos
it would prove that is was indeed a "gifted" potato
self-importance...
in my observations
that potato wants to be important, so it views being depressed as a path leading towards that
but when it discovers that being depressed doesn't make him anymore noticed
it gets even more depressed
(all the other potatos are too busy wrapped up in there own lives)
do potatos have psychologists?

actually, it was the purple part that facinated me
purple has been sneaking it's way into my life nowadays
i don't know why
i never especially liked purple(it was always next to pink...hollywood colors)
but recently i've noticed that people are wrong about the color of the sky
it's either purple or gray
really it's true!!
i am as sure as chicken little when he said the sky is falling

hepburn, she made the movie

Truman Capote's writing comes a close second, although his better known novel "In Cold Blood" was never made into a movie...(I think)

I don't know much about the Hepburns, Katheline and Audrey

Interesting you liked the cats...as when thinking about it. every girl I knew who liked B at Tiffany's also had a cat. I don't know why, but the word depressing and potato together in a sentence makes me laugh, it's like looking at a washed up clown, or Bill Murray. Tom Robbins wrote in Half Asleep, no...Fierce Invalids, that depression is a side effect of a over zealous sense of self importance...any thoughts?

i finished the wind-up bird chronicle...
i didn't like the ending though
about the story
to tell the truth. i don't know what to say about it
reading it made me feel
as i said
errie
i think it's the kind of story that you feel like you don't understand at all
but it comes back and haunts you
scenes that don't seem to have much impact on you come back and stay etched in your mind
the one character that brought comfort to me in the story was cinnamon and the cat
whenever they turned up, i would feel relieved


ps. could you tell me about breakfast at tiffany's (the movie) and what made it so popular?

Conquest- Conquista!
He was out top make a conquest el buscaba una conquista
Didn't care what harm was done No importaban lol demas
Just as long as he won Solo queria ganar
the prize llenar

Conquest- Conquista!
She was just another conquest Una mas de sus conquistas!
Didn't care whose heart was broke No creia en el amor
Love to him was just a joke No tenia corazon
'till her looked her in the eyes Hasta que ella Lo miro

And then the strange way things happen Y extranamente las cosas cambiaron
The roles were reversed from that day Ya nada fue igual para el
The hunted became the huntress La preses se convirtio en cazador
The hunter became the prey El cazador se convirtio en presa

Conquest- Conquista!
Now you know who made the conquest Ella gana esta conquista
She, with all her female guile Su destreza de mujer
Led him helpless down the aisle Disminuido de hacer
She had finally made a conquest Fue me facil La conquista!

My... Such a complicated Potato.

I'm an American because of potatoes.
My mother is Irish, and I would not have been born in the current form
had it not been for the potato. The Irish moved in waves to American during the potato blight
had they not, I wouldn't be here. Some other sperm would be writing this blog. or not.
I mean given the chances, you'd think the hardest part is over. Millions of sperm vs. the lone solitary purple potato of an egg. What are the odds? We are here. The hardest part is already over upon birth. And as cell division tells us is that; From the moment of birth we are all in a constant steady state of decay, entropy.

so really, really....should he scrutinize the swimmers. The flagellates. Mind you the word Flagellate comes from a group of Italians hell bent upon whipping themselves to drive off the spirits causing the black plague.

Your already dying; all of us, regardless of the packaging. Not only that. We are all from the same stock. A star exploded and here we are. So isn't love and life on giant process of incest? Not to mention we are all hermaphrodites at first. It is complicated enough. Too complicated for this spud. I say...draw the line further down the road and then you will begin to laugh at those who draw lines at all.. Laugh Lines...Pay jazz, improvise; stop the contemplation you hermaphroditic flagellating spud!!!

once upon a time
there was a purple potato
purple potatos are the kind of thing that come every so often
not too often so you overlook their existence
and not too seldom so you notice them too much
purple potatos are the kind of potato you notice a bit but forget about after a while
sort of like the hottie you see on the bus every-so-often
you are perfectly aware of him
but you don't want him to know
you want him to think that a girl like you has better things to do than drool over a hottie
but you don't
too bad
you think about him time to time, wondering about him personal life
but after a few weeks you forget about him without knowing you've forgotten
purple potatos are kind of like of that hottie
except you don't drool over them
okay, maybe you will, when you're very very very hungery
but you definitely don't think about their personal life
this purple potato was special
it wanted to have a personal life
most purple potatos don't do anything more during their life than mope around waiting to be eaten or daydream about what's going to eat them
another thing about purple potatos is that they are completely open with each other
purple potatos do not keep secerts
purple potatos do not have anything personal either
it's an unspoken rule between themselves
this rule, however drove this particular purple potato nuts
it hated the experience of being boiled with other purple potatos in the pot
it hated the feel of laying down with other purple potatos in the huge freezer
it absolutely hated being packed with other 'select' purple potatos in a plastic bag
but what was a purple potato to do?
so our sad sad purple potato would lie sardine-like in the plastic bag and let it's mind wander on how it hoped *the lonesome trail to the motherly warmth would be
(*the lonesome trail to the mortherly warmth can be translated into down the digestive system and into the dirt)
unlike the other purple potatos in the bag, our tragic hero looked forward to a trail of solitude
it did not look upon the future with horror
it saw it as a long waited for chance to create it's whole new personal life

Why not call it Virgin Power?

V.P.

Victory Paunch

Viscious Pillate

I think we need to speak to jesus about this. I don't know Jesus biblicaly, true I walked in his foot steps ( a few of them literally) and felt a strong kinship for his mother but no, we never really spoke. I'm pretty sure he plays lead guitar and I think lead guitarists are annoying. The only Jesus I know hates (no, deplores) the fact that she has a name like his....Yes. The Jesus I know is a woman (Yeshuah) and she currently lives in Hawaii and we speak every so often. She prefers to be called Hannah and she is a most interesting woman. She can speak hebrew and was given the historic name of Jesus by her father because he was certain she was going to be born a boy (she hung low in her moms belly) the name Jesus translates to Joshua, which becomes Yeshuah which means Salvation. Pretty heavy expectations to lay on a kid if you ask me.

I've asked her to post on this blog and she told me she would rather drink Jack Daniels. She is recently proud of the fact that she has invented a recipe for silencing roosters. I think she is the perfect candiate to answer your question regarding Madonna physics. And I will be asking her shortly.

In my work, yes, Madonna is a force, actually she is singularity. She was the first myth. The first gossip, she is the blood of all living things, why latinos (mostly catholic) will vote for Hillary Clinton in Texas. more to come---

today, during phyics class, we were learning about energy
why do people try to discribe energy in a few short letters?
it doesn't make sense!
energy should be like love
everybody tries to explain it, but no one really can
a bundle of energy just seems too...
undiscriptive
how big a bundle?
how long can it last?
what about the quantity?
then i was struck by a flash of lightning!
the only correct way to measure energy is by
(drumroll please)
MADONNAS
isn't it brilliant?
let me explain
a madonna of energy
provides enough for the craziest extrovert for 50 some years
it may wear down a little at the end
but when one has a madonna of energy
they can turn to other ways to keep it flowing
(try looking into yoga or other religious activites)

today i had a complete new realization!
reading is exactly like eating!!
isn't it absolutely amazing??
what i've been doing recently is that
i try to go on a really really strict diet of textbooks
what happens is that after too long a period of dieting
i start to wear thin
so i start reaching for anything near
(like people reaching for anything from the bag of chips of the chocolate bar)
anyway
recently, i've found myself grabbing for these juicy dramatic novels
it's like yoyo dieting isn't it?
is there any way to exercise the reading habit?
lol
deep down... i truly hope not
and about juicy dramatic novels
they made me figure out that
anyone who has to need to read
must be a gossip deep down inside
i don't care if they hide it under billions of layers of sophistication
they are still
deep down under there
a gossip
it's what drives people into turning the next page!

The psychologist with which we speak spent months researching the various fashion districts in Japan. She was particularly drawn to the Harijuku district. With the goths slumming around the train station, the baby dolls hanging around the elitist shopping mall in d. town tokyo; she wondered why some youths felt the need for dressing up like electrified tropical fish? Her conclusions were that this was a backlash of being made to wear uniforms in schools for x amount of years and likened this color explosion to behavior patterns no different from Montana wolves who have endured long winters. With the coming of spring, it seemed that wolves are sometimes known to go on mass killing sprees. Killing livestock not for the purpose of eating but for the fact that well...they are wolves on display, being wolves. Is High School a long winter? If pushed to one extreme do we not violently swing in the other direction like mad pendulums bent on breaking the clock?