Unearthed

Seriously.
Are you a budding student? Write this down:
Don't skip multiple consecutive classes in an unfamiliar course.
This might happen:
I walk into my historical archaeology class a few hours ago.
Now, I'm late. This is fine. The professor is often late for this class.
I enter the room.
The following things become immediately apparent:

• There is an assignment due today, as I see a pileup of them on the professor's desk. As students walk in (also late), they add to this pile.
• We are to be examining artifacts, as there are wee plastic cases containing various clay and stone ceramics.
• This class is an important one. Though I am, at this point, unsure of why.

I act natural.
There are these aforementioned plastic cases in front of each seat.
People are studying little chips of material, or sherds, if you will, closely and meticulously.
People are jotting things down.
People are taking pictures of clay pipe bowls with digital cameras.
People are examining worn coins with the assistance of some sort of magnifying tool, and a UV light.
Everyone is very quiet.
I have no idea what is going on.
I am sweating.
I pick up the sherds of gear in front of me and start writing random tidbits.
"Smooth. Porous. Shitty-looking quality."
My head is reeling: is this an exam of some sort? Am I allowed to look at my notes? Should I have brought a camera of my own?
People speak in quiet murmurs.
I'm trying to read what the person sitting next to me is writing.
It was terrifying.
Even now I don't know what just happened.
Read your syllabi, people.
Write that down, too.

I Mentioned "Later..." Earlier...

I finally figured out the deal with the show that I've linked a few times.
It's British.
I couldn't figure out who the host was before.
His name is Jools Holland. Apparently he plays the piano.
I played the piano once.
His show is simply called 'Later...'
Since we're on the subject, here.
More Radiohead.

Nothing's Sacred

To continue the last post, this is the message that I just sent to Spencer on facefuck, after gaffing his picture:

spencer!
how's this for a random message? what's up buddy? how've you been the past...six years? seven?
you look happy enough in the pictures. so that's something.
are you on boats? i get nausious. i'm also afraid of going near the rails. i'd be the one to fall overboard. there's no questioning it.

here: http://www.acadiascreech.blogspot.com/

i started up a blog about...eight months ago.
some people say it's entertaining.
i'm letting you know about it because you're mentioned in it as of today.
and i have a rule about informing people about it after they're mentioned in it.
so there you go.
i'm about the same as i was.
i've had sex with a wider variety of girls, and i grew a mustache once or twice.
that's about it.

Ears Open

I've only slept for three hours in the past...while.
So bear with me.

Spencer Gulliver was a friend of mine in Acadia.
Good guy. Liked to pedal bikes.
I can also safely say he was the first American friend I ever had.
Maine. They have a lot of lobster.
Anyway.
When I was in my first year, Spencer Gulliver introduced me to something that I had never seen before.
He called it 'sharing,' and it really changed my life.
Just kidding.
He'd put on his headphones, lay on his bed with his hands behind his head, he'd close his eyes, and just...listen to music.
No nap. No homework. No acid.
I always thought it was the oddest thing.

Years passed...

Then several important things happened:
I developed a taste in music.
I moved into a closet. A dark one.
Nowadays I listen to music the way that ol' Spencer used to.
Sometimes.
It's hard to get around to because there are so many flashy screens in this apartment.
But I always do it if i'm reviewing music.
I can't play instruments. I find the process helps me seperate and determine which instruments are doing what.
So, let me ask ya this: Have you ever tried it?
No? Good.
Do it now.
Come on blog fans. I never ask anything of you people.
I'm calling in a favour.
Wait until you're in private, so that you don't feel stupid about it. If you must.
Use headphones. Headphones are important.
Don't open your eyes for the whole song.
I even picked one out for you.
This is Idioteque performed by Radiohead. It's live, and it's wicked.
Two things to notice: one, how quiet the audience is during the song, and two, how long their applause goes on for afterwards.
Even if you're a fan, and you know Idioteque inside-out.
Do it anyway.
For your ol' pal Warford.
And Spence.
Do it for Spence.

eDit: i'll be satisfied if i can get one quarter of you to actually do this.
spence had this picture trio on his facefuck, so i gaffed it.
it took me a minute to realize that the top two pictures were taken in my room.

X (Three Times)

I just finished organizing the adult room.
And the list of oddities that I have completed in the workplace just continues to grow.
I have to vacuum the popcorn.
On a Friday, there's enough of it mashed into the carpet to make a circus clown have a conniption.
But you know who I do it for?
The children.
Telling them that, "Sorry, there's no copies of Snow Buddies left," makes all the difference for me.

Wardrobe Malfunction

They're saying that Gene Simmons has a sex tape in circulation now.
'Bout time.
I'm not sure why he would leak it now; he already has a show.
The female is a spokeswoman for one of these speedball drinks.
Mega-something. Something-Rush.
Which would suggest that their sex was vigorous, and an excellent source of energy.
I guess she's a Kiss fan.
I like AC/DC, personally.
He's married to a Newfoundlander, you know. Shannon Tweed. Playboy bunny.
Dad taught her in high school.
It's his claim to fame.
I don't have a claim to fame, but if I ever did, I'd have sex with someone, record it, and put it on the internet.
Anyway, there's only one question in the aftermath of all of this. The media attention. The embarassment. The humiliated children.
In the video...is the makeup on, or off?

Refuse

I originally started this post with the statement: "I have a dorsal fin," but decided to cut it out in case people thought I was high while I wrote this.
Then I thought about how I didn't like to exclude it either.
Don't worry; I worked out a contingency.
If garbage men collect the garbage once every two weeks, what do they do on the other days?
Contemplate Nietzsche.
Turpin told me earlier today that orange is universally unflattering.
I disagree.
'Cause I'm wearing orange right now.
And I think I look pretty good.
There's a war on.
Better construct this* in your spare time.
You should also put a crib board in there.
Because in the case of nuclear fallout, you're going to want something to pass the time.
Don't forget the cards!
While your vault-mate warms up the geiger counter, listen to this.


They meditate, too, of course.
The garbage men.




*other useful sites:

• Duck and Cover (this video was actually shown to school children during the sixties. Kennedy administration, I think. Who do you suppose the monkey represents?)
• Build your own geiger counter

Damp Spot

I am at work.
Earlier, I spilled coffee on my penis.
It wasn't hot, though.
The coffee, I mean.

*ping*

I'm going to buy a spitoon, I've decided.
I don't know why they went out of style.
Everyone that I know enjoys dull brass or copper.
And this way, the tobacco chewer always feels comfortable in your home.

Little Buttons

Alright.
So, I'm single now, then.
And that's all I'm going to say.
You think you're doing alright, until you go to pour coffee into the draedle mug that she brought you, and then you're reminded that these things take time.
I'll be back in a little bit.
But most of my posts will likely be comprised of poetry lamenting how jaded the world is.
Just kidding.
They should be funny.

Helluva Guy

The Warford family ate its meals in front of a television.
We're that kinda generation.
When we were kids, supper involved a lot of noises; the emittence of various gasses, arguing, shouting, and occaisonal crying.
Which our parents tried to tune out, best they could.
But when Ray Guy came on the CBC news, we all had to shut up.
Yesterday, Elling said my writing is comparable to his.
This is almost better than the Woody Allen comments of late.
Because he's from Newfoundland.
And because my parents found him entertaining.
I haven't read any of his material*, really. But I may start.
We already have this in common: we both share names with jerkoff football players.


*I haven't listened to this because my computer's sound is on the blink. So, I don't know if it's funny or not.