Nipple Clits, Porn, Erotica, Writing, Film, Getting Published in the BDH, Sailor Parties and ridiculousness-

I write from Kirsten's room somewhere deep in Unit Six. I had violated boundaries beyond the typical. I had applied, asked what type of clothing i would assign myself I said a G-string, I had been approved.

Talking Heads playing in the background. Reminded me that the boys who had started the Art Rock Revolution had gone to school but 1500 feet from the room I was writing.

The Sailing Party left me krunk and crazy. Where the fuck was Geoff? I had been doing so well. Studying well, taking notes, gettign up for classes- doing what I was supposed to.

But there is no solve-all for Alcoholisn. Kirsten found me on the floor outside her room and took pity on the drunk that the Sailing Team had kicked out onto Thayer Street. She gave me a water and a computer to write this ridiculousness on.

She was at once an angel and the muse of the beauty in which I revolved in.

Fuck Yale, Harvard and the Rest of the Ivy League- They do not know drunken debauchery with a consentual sexual element.
Women;s Peer Consuleours at Brown invented Intercourse (true story, I learned about it at HI 110), and I, some people in Keeney, and the Sailing Team perfected it.

I spent the early part of the day trying to make sense of Computer Science. I ended up drinking away my confusioon. Accessors and Mutators were suddenly shades of the same colored horse.

Would I get up in the morning? Will I get up in the morning? I have NO idea. It will be a question of my intoxiation, my feelings in the morning, and whether or not the Alarm clock wakes me up.

I published my first article to the Brown Daily Herald today. It was on the front cover- can you imagine? I think I might write again. I think I might write again for the people who read this absurdity and wonder Where I live, Where I am going, and how I plan to get there?

My sentiments exactly.