As I write this, their is a party going on at my house. Unfortunately, it has all the the same horrible parts of all the parties I went to in high school. It’s most likely because a lot of the people here are still in high school. It’s obnoxious. The obnoxious jock high school boy is even more prevalent here than back in Jersey. Apparently people were going to fight in outside our house. That’s lame.
The boys at these parties are the essence of losers. Since none of them really are athletic, or cool, or even chill. The girls aren’t much better. While I love my new place to death, and my roomates are cool, I wish they would throw better fucking parties. It kind of pisses me off when I ask people where they go, and they say Corona High School. That shit pisses me off. I’ve managed to not drink tonight. I feel like if the cops comes, which is entirely possible, I’ll have to be the laison between them, and my drunk roomates.
Joshua Ziering
I’ve been living alone in a house the past couple of days. Both of my roomates decided it’d be a good time for a vacation. I managed to feed the dog, lock the doors, teach the dog ‘paw’, and keep the lights off. So when I was sitting at my computer last night and heard two doorbell rings at 1:30 in the morning, I was a little nervous. I get up from my computer, open my big airplane tool box and grab the biggest screw driver I own. I then proceed to take that screw driver, and shove it down the back of my pants.
Stumbling around the house, I finally make it to the door. With the dog going nuts, I put my foot in front of the door (in case it was open) and look through the heyhole. It was dark. So, I manage to spit out, “Who the fuck is it?” Somehow, I thought that if I used the F word, it would intimidate a potential murderer enough to pick another house. It turned out to be one of my roomates.
All this stupidity was spurred by the fact the other night they had a ton of helicopters and dogs around looking for a fugitive just around the corner. I mean, they found him… but … he did manage to escape right?
Joshua Ziering
Brief Synopsis of yesterday:
Get up at 10.
Fly Small Planes.
Eat lunch at In’N'Out Burger.
Fly large, fast planes the rest of the day.
As night falls, start playing with a potato gun, with an electrical ignition.
After it gets totally dark, find a parking lot, fly more.
Living on your own is amazing.
Joshua Ziering
I’m going to write a book about my life. It may be a collection of poems though. We’ll see. I got inspired, and decided to write a poem about last night.
It wasn’t even mine yet.
The folded, faded cushion hastily called a mattress.
This pastry of a bed was frosted with my month old sheets and caseless pillow.
On top of it all a blown out blonde candle.
She laid there like a parakeet among the pigeons,
just not right.
My hand found it’s way to her shoulder.
“Hey…”
Already anticipating the slurry of sleep I was about to have, I said,
“Hey, Wake up. You’re in my bed”
I did my best to help her up.
We held hands not like lovers, but like climbers.
On this occasion it’s good I was not holding her over a
gargantuan gorge,
she fell.
We navigated to a couch, a more suitable replacement to the futon consoling her.
She fell asleep, face down, on a cushion as if she were telling it,
secrets.
I found my way back to my room.
and fell asleep to an already warm bed.
Joshua Ziering
I moved into my new place on Thursday. It’s something of a bachelor paradise. Last night, their was a huge party at my place. I had a great time. It’s so cool to be throwing the party instead of trying to talk your way into it.
Anyhow, as the night progressed, those drinking, became more and more drunk. It was kind of a deteoriating situation really. Anyhow, one of the girls there managed to get really drunk. The party was still raging when I decided it was time to sleep. As I walk into my room I notice that my dog bed (I am sleeping on a fouton priorly used as a dog for it’s bed.) is occupied by a very drunk blond girl. At my feet lay a huge decision, what’s a guy to do?
After pondering for a micro-second, I did what any red blooded american guy would do. I woke the bitch up and told her to peace the fuck out of my bed. Damnit. (For those who don’t speak ebonics: I roused her from a sound sleep, helped her up, helped her stumble out of my room and find a place to sleep on the couch.) I’ll pretend I can’t hear you thinking the comments about ‘the blind leading the blind.’
I swear I am not gay, just moral. And I promise I am just moral, not religious.
Joshua Ziering
Ok, I don’t understand it. Here in Phoenix, we have KISS 104.7. It’s a top 40’s station equivalent to Z100 in New York. They play a lot of rap songs and recently, for some reason, I’ve been listening.
I’ve noticed at the begining of rap songs rappers identify themselves. I am noticing more and more frequently that their is an increased amount of collaboration between rappers. So in the beginning of the song there is this medley of rapper names. I’ve decided that when I call people from now on, I’ll introduce myself with a bass rich beat. Then, I’ll commence to say things like, “Z Unit, 04. Until I am dead, and in a box. Uh. Yeah. I’m holding it down gangster style.” Then, I’ll add in some catchy horn sound effects or maybe a really cool violin melody. Followed by the obligatory, “Little John, WHAT!?” and then finally, ‘Yo, it’s Josh.”
God help me, I’m way too white andI love making fun of Hip Hop way too much.
Joshua Ziering
I received a call today from Aaron Hart, Hall director. He actually managed to be a real person, and talk to me. He told me it wasn’t the swearing that got me in trouble, but the over all tone of the paper. The behavioral education specialists felt it didn’t convey that I understood what I was being sanctioned for. (I think their boss might be named Emmanual Goldstein)
Aaron and I actually spoke for about 10 minutes. He asked me if I was from the East Coast. I told him I was. He told me that if I try to fight this, I’m going to loose. Because ASU does not make it’s students live on campus, they can basically enforce any policies they want. They can do anything they want. You can’t win. This is the gist of what I was told. And even though he said, “You know, I believe in what you’re fighting for, but I can’t imagine you’ll win.” In short, it was the “Welcome to a Red State” real deal shpeal. He asked me to write a new paper. Because he cut to the chase, managed to listen to the two minutes of points that I had to say to him, and managed to be a real person with me, I don’t feel like I am losing the battle by writing. The new paper will be so tongue in cheek that if it were a speech, people would think I was making obscene gestures at them.
Joshua Ziering
As I was flying planes today I receieved a somewhat frantic call from my roomate. Apparently the hall director had stopped by, and said that if I did not get in touch with him,they would be changing the locks on my door. This didn’t really worry me since I have a new place to live over break, but this begs the question, Can they do this?
After I got back, I asked them for details. They said Aaron Hart was here, and that he said “I’ll be kicked out of the university if I do not re-write this paper.” Obviously, I’ll be kicked out of the dorms also. All this over one single word. Is the F word any less protected than if I had written a one page rant about how the zionist powers that be, in association with the black man, are using their powers of persuasion to keep me quiet about wearing a huge white hood and burning crosses? We know that speech is protected. Why is mine not?
The kicker to this whole thing is the only thing I have received in writing is that I must write this paper. I got a phone call telling me to rewrite it. I know for a fact that my speech is protected. This is a state school. My paper satisfied the requirements set forth, and if they try to kick me out of the university, I may just have to help redefine what ‘bad press’ means.
Joshua Ziering
