The Frantic Courier

In the opening statement of yet another word of unencouragement, may I address you in the form of a disclaimer:

Ahem… The Provider of Relevant and Irrelevant Information for any constructivist or primordial ethic group, or any subsequent application thereof, may not be held liable for any damages resulting from the following activities, which may or may not be the cause of the Provider: outbreaks of hysteria, vehement coughing, the gouging out of your best friends’ eyes, any form of defamation or apparent derogatory comments, emotional insecurities, nervousness (up to and including the point of convulsions), belittled mental capacities, nukular proportioned headaches, excessive vomiting of any kind, mass civil disobedience, and/or the conspired death of Dendall, etc. etc. etc..

Well, that having been said, I believe I can now write without fear of any further legal claims against me. For I understand that providing relevant and irrelevant information can be a dangerous business, partly for the reason that people expect either relevancy or irrelevancy, never both. This is the reason great care is taken. Because if you try and please everybody, you might as well be dropped via parachute into the middle of Dendall’s room (which is very much more dangerous than political unrest).

Spanking about rooms, mine has remained staggering on the border between immaculateness (unlike our fellow alleged holy virgin) and desoluteness. I’ll just leave it there, and your impeccable mental calculations can compute the rest. But rest! It eludes me! By my own stupidity, I so many times neglect the prized possession of sleep. And everyone who has ever had the patience to endure my company for more than 10 seconds knows how madly I preach the importance of sleep. But who would have thought the person who understands these monstrous detriments of sleep deprivation would become his own test subject, analyzing the body’s reactions to it. This feat I am doomed to undertake when the above occurs, simply because I of all llamas understand precisely what is going on. What… is the effect of sleep deprivation on an unladen swallow?…

“Well, good sir (by the way, you must bathe and shave), first its heart rate will rise, for its physical capacities are greatly lowered and it must work harder to accomplish ordinary feats; even more so during feats of rigorous activity, such as hauling a coconut, but that is not the issue. Secondly, it will have lowered reaction time, and might crash into a tree if flying through a forest. Thirdly, its overall mental and social health will be affected, and it might spiral down an unfortunate series of events to ultimate separation from society and quite possibly, suicide. But even if this extreme is not accomplished, it will experience a diminished quality of life, simply because of depression. This, good sir, is the effect of sleep deprivation on an unladen swallow.”

And that, my friend, is a perfect example at the reason for the disclaimer. Notwithstanding any intense negative feelings you may be experiencing at this moment, you have already implicitly consented to risk such a negative feeling by reading this whatever-it-is-called in the first place.

Ahh, the beauty of freedom from frolicking tree fellers feeling their ax towards my phalanges. Oh, I fear I didn’t cover this reaction under the disclaimer. In which case, an ADDENDUM is required.

Section 2, Article I of Liscensing Agreement as follows: Tenants shall not under any circumstance resulting from the use of the license hold the Provider liable for any damages resulting from the above unfortunate circumstance, however unfortunate you may deem it to be. Therefore, ha ha.

But life is going pretty good up here in ole’ stinky town ‘Burg. Crap. Seriously. In the air. You would have thought Dendall lived up here, seeing from the bad state of wind. One could design a potato canon from his backside for crying out privately. Can you follow this succession of logic? Yes! So be it! You fool. No, if one followed the logic he/she/it/Owen would see that Dendall stinks. Come on! Stay with me.

But yeah. It’s pretty foul up here sometimes in the night. First it starts seeping in through the window unsuspectedly. Inconspicuously. Unexpectedly, in the most bizarre unexpected redundant way.

But I’ll live. And so will Dendall. Unfortunately.

As for Paul, I have no derogatory comments for you today, because you… are cool. I don’t know. It was my best effort. Now, as to which Paul I refer to, that is for me to know and for Dendall to die in the line of espionage trying to get. Bleh, what is that smell?

A boulder rolling down the hill may free me from my worries. Studies, friends (alleged), ghosts echoing in all directions, I feel sometimes swamped here. Funds are sinking low. I’ll scrape by paying the rent this month. Yeah, it’s tough living out on my own. But it’s something I’ll have to suck up and endure, because I’m here and nothing is going to change. Apart from the negative, there are many good things going on as well.

Music is coming together. I’m writing too. And Mike, my housemate, might just be in a position to jam with me, if he can get his act together and get his guitar from PA. But he seems like a genuine Awesome dude. Awesome with a circle c, he’s so cool. He’s one of the most laid back individuals I know. Any favor you ask and it’s done. But he’s not the exception. Everyone at my house rocks.

Nightlife in the ‘Burg is also fascinating. People, everywhere. I must take care, though, that I do not fall down the road more traveled. As appetizing that life may seem, deep down I know that it will not bring happiness, in any sense of the word. Maybe, just maybe temporary happiness, but that at the most. Frankness, it will get me through the years. Mainly my attraction to the party life is a resultant longing for friends, for acceptance. But this conflict of interests has seized me. On one hand, Christian friends and fellowship. On the other, good times, let the party roll. In this case, I don’t believe a middle ground exists or is beneficial.

But as fate would have it, I am a man of weak words. My best defense lies not in my words, but in those I have found in God. Isn’t it amazing how it seems ninety percent of the Christian Life is rediscovery? Rediscovering those truths long-forgotten, laying dormant in the back of the mind. Truths that come out of the pages like scenes from a pop-up book. Truly amazing.

As you can see, I have many thinks lingering on my subconsciousness. As a result, I must go. And drink the cup of hot-cocoa I left on my desk in my room. Farewell, friends.