Cracked out confessions, musings and rants

Don't worry. All is well. But not as well as Commie Putin!

From giggling like a schoolgirl to listening to American Football and clutching yourself in bed alone in tears...

Yeah...

This can't become a trend...

I'm broke.

I'm taking donations and shit.

Empty your pockets bitches.

Simply put, I love Pop's Club and everything about it.

So i was working the Made-To-Order shift for dinner on Wednesday and long behold, a new dish.

Panfried Southern Catfish...

Don't get me wrong I'm not too proud or too whitewashed to love me some catfish but to prepare it in front of the general public is another thing. I would like to dissociate myself such ethnic culinary creations however a man can tell Pop's where to go only so many times. Three. Setting the experience of preparing catfish for 3 and a half consecutive hours aside, I expected every other Rufus King High School graduate turned UW-Madison student to gobble it up like a watermelon (which held true) but what caught me off guard were the asians. It's always about the asians! Asians apparently love catfish. Conventional wisdom would look to their desire to be African American in order to account for this glaring mystery or one could give a socioeconomic geographic explanation which examines the uniquely coastal location of most Asian countries as a principle contributing factor to their marine dietetic regime. However...I prefer the former.

So it looks like I'm taking 16 credits and working over 20 hours a week...

Go fuck yourself

I am going to DIE.

This basement is too light...

I hate emo.

...and philosophy.

So...my logic test was at 12:25 today...


I woke up at 1:20.

Only superman can do logical derivations, interpretation and syntax correctly in half the time alloted to the normal man.

I am superman.

I confess that I do like...Le Tigre...a lot.

I must also confess that I'm fighting the urge to become a really butch lesbian and march in the parade...

Or read Judith Butler...

This is probably my most esoteric post yet.

Random too.

Long time no speak.

Thanksgiving was good times, I really needed this time with the fam to recharge those these here batteries. Even with the spectre of a french presentation and nutri sci exam on tuesday. For someone who doesn't care about school I sure do care a lot about school.

At least I'm better off than I was a month ago. I'd gloat about my recent conquests, but who really likes a boaster?

Someone needs to drop out of Poly Sci 103, or I'll begin to systematically eliminate enrolled students. You bitches have been warned.

P.S I love you Emily Haines? Est-ce que vous voulez epouser moi?

This weekend was some kind of awesome.

Given the hell of a week I had the only appropriate thing to do was drink my qualms away and essentially make up for the suckdom that ensued from monday to thursday.

So there's friday, grandma's house party...all was well until things got a bit hazy on the walk back from regent...something about calling my work at 2am and having an extensive conversation with my sister...real hazy.

But saturday was the real story of the year (i hate that bad). Somewhere between looking like shit and smelling of booze at noon on the bustop and arriving at work I snagged me a fan. The first "official" member of the Jawaun McClain fanclub. So I'm listening to my busted mp3 player on the bus, fidgeting with the headphone socket to position the input at the exactly right place so I can actually hear music come out of both headphones like most headphones tend to do. But in the process of, this girl sits right next to me, or so I noticed 5 minutes later but for some odd reason she keeps looking at my lap. NOT WHAT YOU THINK FUCKERS! Turns out she liked by bag (and seriously doesn't like my manpurse?) and proceeded to compliment me on it, then conversation ensued. I would have been content parting ways with a handshake and a token and illusory "well, i guess i'll see you later," but that was not to be. I give my numbers out like...(a promisquous girl who will not be named because she might actually be reading this) passes out the booty. Ach SchEIßT...Z!

Turns out the giving of the digits wasn't that bad of idea because during my shift she shows up with her friends and invites me to a party she was throwing that night. To make a long story short, I go, unfortunately she was sick and thus...there but not there; however, the beauty in this tale is the celebrity status I somehow acquired in the span of half a day, all her friends hit on me, they fought about it annnd I had to leave before things got too ugly.

Finally, a celebrity with a little bit of dignity.
I hate you Jude Law.

I'm pretty sure logic is the gay science, and not in the good ol' Nietzschian sense.

I just took a logic test, I have a french quiz and weather test on monday, work on tuesday, and a french and nutri sci test on wednesday...or is that tuesday.

And you know what? I'm going to
rock
dat
shit.

Who's the Over-man now!?
Bitch.

Good news!!!

I haven't had an emotional breakdown...yet.

I'm flying high and in style these days I tell you what. Not only am I doing mediocre in school but pessimism is the order of the day. I'm up in the clouds I tell you.

I'm listening to a combination of sappy loves songs and either really depressing post rock or hardcore. Oh the ambivalence!

It's ok to be single.
It's ok to be single.
It's ok to be single.

I'm just going to keep on repeating that to myself until i actually believe it.

le sigh...

So yeah...I've come to the disturbing conclusion that I am indeed Foucaultian...

I guess that makes me hermaphroditic (or as rumors goes), really gay and French. Of course not to mention an amazing historicist , philosopher and social critic.

Yes, this post is me giving a handjob to Foucault.

Except not, because i don't like hand AIDS.

So call me racist...but some niggers need to die. I've struggled with the problem of being a "white" black guy for quite some time until recently. Rather than interpret it as an insult, I think it of it as a sign of reverence. Why such a complement? Because being white is awesome! Do they not own the world? Are rewards like the Nobel Prize and the Pulitzer not prizes made by white people for white people? All for them to congratulate and pat themselves on the back for being masters of the universe? So deductively...

Jawaun "is" white.
White people are smart and own the universe.
-------------------------------------------
Jawaun is smart and owns the universe.


I like compliments.
...and unconscious racism.

Pretty sure an emotional breakdown is not so far off the horizon...

So I'll meet my quota afterall.

Here's a fundamental truism. Minorities = a good laugh... + guns.

I'm pretty sure that when you get more than fifty blacks together at one time, bad things are on the horizon. Kinda of like friday night at this Alpha party. Apart from the fact that the MU was teetering on becoming a certified fire hazard due to the 900 people in attendance, once the actual party ended numerous after-parties spawned which is where the awesome kicks in. I was in a car with 5 other people and voila! squad cars! What a surprise, it seems as if some people, who the passengers in the car I was in so conveniantly knew thus one dumb bitch had the brilliant idea to file out the moving vehicle and intervene in the aftermath. I kinda hate people...

I say arrest minorities on suspicion.

Wow...I'm pretty sure this was the greatest night of my life...so i'm pumped to see Maritime, definately a top ten band, and I am oh so disappointed to wait in the rain for them on the terrace only to hear that dreaded word, cancelled. Yet! a glimmer of hope, a very dim one at that, but a glimmer nonetheless, Maritime, playing in Witte Hall's own music room? This cannot be!!!

Bryan, "i'm pretty sure there's an 80% chance this isn't for real." And being the pessimistic emotastic kid I am, I refuse to believe my wild dreams were possible, yet around 10:30 MARITIME is at Witte Hall setting up. Upon the realization of this, I kind of freak out...deep down inside.

And then they play and yeah...words can't describe. Even the posers (those who will remain unnamed yet was right next to me...I hate to be an elitist but Maritime's, better yet's TPM's music means a lot to me...I just despise people who feel it but don't really feeeeel it) couldn't distract me from this spectable.

Either way it goes I'm listening to second wave emo and being pissy all in honor of...

Ok, so i'm sleeping next to this gorgeous girl I know. You would think this would be a good thing for me, but nope. I'm pretty sure I spent a good part of that night listening to sunny day and christie front drive while thinking about how lonely I am and how close yet far I am from doing something about it. So after closing up in a ball on her floor I just decided that torture isn't fun and in my own bed is where I should be. Alone.

Ok so normally if you were to walk into my room right now you'd be justified in thinking someone's tappin ass. Marvin Gaye transmitting the sound of sex from the stereo, a dim light slightly brightening the wall and the faint scent of expensive cologne. But in reality it's just me realizing how lonely i really am.

i blame women

and myself.