D. B. Bates' Post

All Caught Up

Well, officially, I’ve finished reading the worst novel ever written and I’m completely caught up in African history. In fact, I did something I used to do way back in the days of AP US History (goddamn Ms. Oppliger for being right)—I made up study guides with important people, dates, places, etc., and the reasons for their importance. So that’ll be nice to study with, because I’ve condensed a few hundred pages into ten pages in study guides.

And I got a response from Amazon—free game city. I ended up getting Grand Theft Auto 3 instead of THPS4 or FFX. FFX is only $40, and part of the promotion is that it has to be a $50 game…I’m not sure why, because it’d save them money in the long run to give me a $40 game for free instead of a $50 game. And I played THPS4 at my cousin’s house at that shitty party last weekend, and I have to say that while it’s a good THPS game, I’m just not that into it. Not into it enough to buy, anyway. The THPS kinda ran its course with me by the time I beat 3, and the nifty new features and levels in 4 aren’t really appealing enough for me to spend money on it. Yeah, yeah, I know—I wouldn’t be spending money on it, but I’d rather get a game that I already know I love than a game I already know I’m not gonna love.

And this concludes the interesting part of the weekend, which isn’t even interesting because I refuse to address the hilarity of important personal matters in so public a forum. I’m having an early birthday dinner after the Bears game, and then I’m watching TV and going to bed.

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Of Poetry and Kings…or Something…

I hacked out a poem today. It’s the first of my attempts to simply destroy every person in my Fiction Writing class, one by one, and make them all hate me. I envision the final for that class consisting of them chasing me through Grant Park with pitch-forks and torches, and whoever gets a clean kill gets an A.

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Don’t Blame Me, I Voted for Nader — No, Really!

I’m reading this article right now that sort of put things in a perspective I never really thought about. Basically, it’s about Bush and what a big fucking liar he is (and a bad, incompetent one at that), but people buy what he’s saying like the gospel truth. It also points out how, essentially, he was elected on the idea that he would restore truth and honor to the White House. I mean, he didn’t have a whole lot of government experience, he’s a total idiot, and his father was part of a few executive administrations that basically shot our economy into the toilet and unemployment into the stratosphere.

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An Anniversary of Pain

New Tori Amos = rocks

A reconciliation of sorts (if there was ever reconciling necessary…I’m still not sure, but then again I’m left in the dark about 98% of what happens in my life) with my not-girlfriend = a happy event that has perhaps fittingly occurred on Halloween

Five hours of Buffy today = severely gg

Three bags of leftover Kit-Kats (yeah, trick-or-treating isn’t exactly over, but I will be sure there are three bags left) = fattening, but who cares other than my jeans?

Very little homework this weekend = yay

No job = no money, but still, yay

Halfway through The Bluest Eye = Jesus Christ, I can’t take another page, but it’s better than being a quarter of the way through

I have time to write again (and I ain’t talking about shitty assignments) = neat-o

That about sums up the day. This evening shall be a festival of the written word, as I plan to finish The Bluest Eye tonight, and I will follow that up by a session of rewriting the story bible for a TV series that’ll never happen that I occasionally write when I’m bored or dreamy or just have nothing else to write but still need to get something down on paper.

Oh wait, the thing that got me back on that series idea is that I’m ingratiating myself upon my Writing For Television professor, and she’s got a disturbing excess of contacts for television in the area and in Los Angeles and in New York. So far, she’s my most exploitable contact, and fortunately, she seems to have some sort of horrible crush on me (or maybe it’s my writing…), so hopefully I can use that to my advantage in a patently non-sexual way. I’ve already got enough sexing up to do, thanks to an early-morning call from Not-Girlfriend that irritated me until she, at the goading of a friend I didn’t even know she knew, apologized for things that she didn’t even do just so I would feel less paranoid (did I address my paranoia in another entry? I don’t remember). Isn’t that sweet? She knows just how to screw with my head to make me normal, or at least as close as I come to that.

Plus, she’s really hot.

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Believing You Can Fly at Age 15

I did the ol’ shuffle thing on iTunes today and a song I haven’t listened to in a long, long time came up: Straight No Chaser’s cover of that R. Kelly song “I Believe I Can Fly.” It reminded me of the semi-infamous second debate in my public speaking class last semester, after the extremely infamous first debate got so out of hand that it was canceled and we started from scratch with a completely new topic.

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What the Fuck Is WTF?

Fiction Writing is the biggest waste of time I’ve ever encountered. Four hours of worthless “activities” designed to improve writing skills. I’m not saying I don’t need help improving my writing skills, but these exercises don’t work. Well, they don’t with me. The other people in class seem to be responding to it quite well, but then again, the other people in class are part of the problem. The entire class is a nightmare cross-section of everything I hate about art school students.

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