"His thoughts are too scattered, just give him a moment to collect." This advice within the high pitched laugh of a well-meaning mother. The tour guide had simply meant to ask her son a simple question, how could the guide know that the son had no intention of answering?

"Well." The guide sputtered, looking for a simpler way to ask the stubborn child with almond eyes if he liked the zoo. Finding nothing suitable, he reached into the cage behind him and pulled out a red snapper. "Here, hold it."

The child held his hands out and mewed with delight....

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He knocked the three knocks. The two rap-raps. He whistled like a wren. Then he knocked twice again. The flight attendant replied, "Captain. Pick up the phone. I'm not playing your games."

"Oh come on. Just reply with the secret knock. It's easy."

"What is it you want?"

"To go to the restroom."

"Ok. Punch in your code and I'll punch in mine, and we'll get you to the lavatory and back."

She punches her code, her hand on the handle. She waits. "Captain?" She hears three knocks. Two rap-raps. A whistle like a wren.

"Captain. I'm a grown woman....

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dear bobo,
happy birthday! i am sorry i missed it, but i hummed the song for you this morning while we convoyed into the city. i think you're eight now, but it's hard to keep track 'cuz you just seem so big and grown-up each time i see you.

mom tells me you got bit on the neck by a spider the other day and that you haven't been feeling so great. she says maybe you're not having a birthday party this year 'cuz some weird stuff happened when you first tried to go back to school after getting sick....

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I looked at my fellows roommates and had to suppress a giggle. I know costumes are supposed to be in jest, but we had really gone over the top. Plumage of chicken wire and silly string. Stilts and dinosaur arms.

Yes, it was that time of year again: Beer Mile.

We collected on the campus quad, shivering in the snow, awaiting the stroke of midnight. Ding Ding Ding...The drunken co-eds began their semi-annual drunken naked/costumed romp in celebration of the end of homework.

What else could be the source of such merriment?

As I rounded the corner of the field,...

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He'd spent hours in the living room, with a stack of tapes and the home theatre system, recording, rerecording, and generally keeping the neighbors awake. "It's sort of loud in here," I said to him.

He spent hours scrambling around the house searching for the sharpie to label his mixtape. "This will be perfect, if I can only finish it," he said to himself.

Unable to find a sharpie, he ran out the back door, grabbed his bike and churned off into the night.

I hopped in the car and followed behind at a safe distance. He stopped off at...

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There isn't a thing you could do to make my situation better.

You people like to think that you could change my lucky stars if you wanted to, as though you are angelic beings who can pluck we lepers from our squalor and dirt on a whim. If I cared to share with you, it's likely you wouldn't believe my story anyway.

The world is a bigger place than you would ever imagine, with an expanse of experience broader than your mind can fathom — neither bad nor good, but certainly considerable experience.

I have studied astrophysics, Shakespeare, and written...

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The world is a thin, hollow place.

One wrong step, and you break through the shell, and you go tumbling, tumbling down.

It is oft repeated to students that an exam is not the be all and end all in their lives, that many opportunities await all in this bountiful land of plenty.

These words are reassuring, it gives hope, and puts your life into place in comparison to all the many other people in the world, with no opportunity to even sit an exam. In some ways, it makes you feel lucky for your high, pedestalled position.

Until you...

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Sitting. Staring. Tears welling. Drip. drip.

No! I can't let her see my defeat.

Swallow these tears that blur my vision.

Feelings of worthlessness fill my mind, the characters on the page melt under the liquid weight of my tears. They fall to the ground with every drop of salt, under my desk. Swirling black ink meets the dirt as I grind my dreams to mud. Black, beautiful, calligraphy mud.

If only, if only...it would be so much easier to blame her. But I am the one at fault.

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"Please, just let me on!"

"Sorry sir, but we have regulations."

"Regulations? I am a citizen of the US. I served my country, and this is how my county serves me. I am looked down upon while leather and aftershave walks past me. Hundreds spent on a single meal for two, yet I collect cans and tips to buy a single meal from the arches at night. I try to get a job, but I have no address, no phone number. I am stuck because of your regulations. And does help come? No, the ones who do good - our...

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I love tests. I really do. Everyone just sits there staring at the paper - don't be in advanced calc if you can't handle it. The arcs, the plots, 3d graphs, cycloids, functions of the imaginary and trajectory's of murders - it's all beautiful. Each is a beautiful fractal within itself - a new function for a curve to follow.

Lets check out the next question.

"So what did Falkner mean by the word carrage?"

Crap - no more speed before English class.

Here it is - the teacher glaring at me. The sweat dripping off me as if I...

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