Here is the ISU Essay I wrote comparing Jack Kerouac’s On the Road to Big Sur for my grade 12 advanced english class just before i graduated from charm school and fucked off to nyc. Feel free to email and totally ‘dis the shit out of it because i left it to the very, very last minute and i didn’t even read Big Sur, i read the first 1/4 of it and i was like SHUT UP and then that fucking poem at the end about the waves, i think you have to be on speed to get that sort of thing. anyway, also feel free to plagiarise it yourself, steal the words, make it better.
i found this kid in a beatnik messageboard and got him to help me word it all the nite before i handed it in, go internet! i was like durr yeh i am related to this dude and he was all impressed and younger. pfft. oh and if you go to the charm school i graduated from you can get the copy of On the Road that i read, dog-eared, underlined, and was this close to stealing but didn’t because i didn’t ever wanna have to go back to that school again and go to library jail and not get my yearbook, which i didn’t purchase anyway and i didn’t have my photo taken for it either but there is some “poetry” they published, i have no idea why ‘cos it was all about being a vixen and sexing people and depression, and so on.
i got 33 out of 40 on it.
8/10 for style
9/10 for unity and coherence
9/10 for evidence
7/10 for technical precision
and my teacher even wrote “Well done, Lauren.”
focker.
for research i got 8/10
process 7/10
organization 7/10
ME!
the red loser-idiot markings say }awk. which means this sentence you just wrote is awkward you are a fucking moron but if you tried a bit harder this might even be japanese. All the other mistakes are places where i was too jewish to make the title italics and some other crap about open paragraphs i don’t even know. essays are for people who write books and people who write books with essays in them are the same people who want to be friends with rush limbaugh and ps i got his book for a dollar from the library i can’t wait to critique the hell out of it.
i will transcribe the essay a little bit later because i am gay, right now.
my lower lip is all dried-up and out and i am too much of a faggot to put lip balm on it so i am sucking at it and biting it and making it look all fat lower lipesque because i get punched in the lip because i am fantastic.
anyhow.
i have a new counsellor and he reminds me of curb your enthusiasm dude and he talks with his hands and he makes great analogies and i tell him i don’t wanna work for the man and he is like, awesome.
i took a picture of the schizophrenia digest that i know you will all appreciate.
doctor dude says i have to make a 5 year plan and i said i can’t even make a five second plan and i told aimee this and she laughed in that way she laughed because she is aimee and fil says, hmmph, “doctor” he is a counsellor I am a doctor and then we talked about the movie we are going to make, and then play it at my art show, one day this century.
and that is my five year plan.
i have a friggin’ earache, i think i am getting sick again AND i hate smoking cigarettes AND i got the lay-away shoes courtesy of GK.
blogging and then not blogging for awhile then blogging again, off and on is really fucking irritating because you forget things like the name of a photo you thought you posted and then there is no frigging way you have the time to sort through the file manager of the server that hosts all the crap for you for that one totally awesome photo you thought you posted and that, my friends, is why blogging and then not blogging and then blogging again, is, really. fucking. irritating.
i love the pool but these days it makes me sad to look at it because it is full of dingy leaves and the liner has done and got itself all faded because it wasn’t emptied before they left for France and the tomato pot fell over ‘cos of the wind and i righted it but i know that when i go out there for a cig i will have to pick it up again.
i just ate mcdonald’s and i feel great about myself now because i know my system will crash very soon and i’ll snarl at the world until i take a huge crap and change the cd.
i’m going to have an art show by christmas time and you are all invited and i might even convince my dad and company to play at it while i hand out fuzzy peaches and sing about the 1960’s so anyone who wants to give me some advice and/or help, $$$ for supplies, or no help whatsoever so i can go on being bitter and create art and then you can all show up and expect to buy it for just 3 dollars….
i am pre-menstrual for the rest of my life. ps this crap will not be at the art show though it should be.
today we got fil new shoes because fil learned that raymi got new shoes but raymi does not actually have the new shoes in her posession so fil wearing new shoes and raymi not wearing new shoes equals gay and not fair.
before that fil and raymi ate at the diner place and raymi was a bitch, again, and fil said i am never fucking coming here with you again and raymi said fine, but that obviously was a lie because they went there again three seconds later.
even before that they woke up earlyish and watched the teen choice awards and raymi said willheim made that music and fil said yes i know you tell me everything and raymi said let us drink beer.
i find that these days i’ve been progressively intoxicating the shit out of myself and yelling in people’s faces because they skew things that are said in their brains and i am all, um, that is not the overall meaning of what was just said and they are all, BLARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGH, and i am all, SHUT UP and then i tell some dicknose that he is just a pawn ‘cos he is a bass player and has absolutely no right to dictate anything in my band and i just talked to my dad and he is like we don’t want a bass player and i am like good that solves everything.
so i am all kerouac sans the writing just the tappa tappa drinking talking artfag except i’m one-hundred per cent more bitter and obnoxious. i bet jack was really nice but then again he was a serial drunk, so whatever.
i’m gonna watch nat. lamp’s. euro vacation because i am rock and roll.
than asked me what i did and i said that i self-destruct and that i live to insult and basically i consult people on what is cool these days and what is not and i say that i can predict the future of cool and he is like how high is your iq and i said i dunno i took that test and they were like skip her a grade or send her to french immersion and i said no because i was fanatic i suppose about staying where i was and he was like mine is 150 and i said i didn’t doubt that and then he was like the band and i was like marketing and he was all you belong in new york and i said yeah but i am all canadian and shit right now and i will not ever try and set up shop as a second class citizen unless i know for sure i’ll be able to eat and he is like kerouac woah and i was like wall street, fantastic.
and then i told other guy that the title of his book was “amazing” and there was a period at the end of it and the cover was black and the letters were white and they were embossed and the text was all grey, i was trying to be weird and profound and i felt pleased that it came off as bizarre and amusing only to myself and they were probably like whatever you self-obsessaphobe.
and i said dude i am the ambassador of toronto let’s go take a tour and so we drove him around and i was like that is where prostitutes are that is a fire hydrant this is tourist town and fil explained everything i said in english to than and than was like this is the best tour ever and we were like a go-kart and i remember i had said earlier i aspired to being intoxicated. nice.
and so we are at the bovine and i am wearing pearls and unfortunately not wearing a sweatband on my head and this girl is like i OWN this bar and i think she meant it literally she got me a jager and i was like no malibu and she said YOU ARE IN MY BAR SO YOU DRINK WHAT I SAY and then i was fine with that.
and her “homegirl” asked if i had hpv when i asked to chase that vomitshot with her beer after they ransacked our fucking smokes and i am like hpv? how about assume i am cleaner than you are and she is like NO there is this thing going around here and i said I DO NOT EVEN LIVE HERE ANYMORE!
Bovine may as well change its name to NYC.
yeah so i, definitely today, have the day-after-booze-blues and i am trying to decide what to do about it other than write and think and obsess about it.
