Someone is stealing my fetishes. Let me explain: I was walking through campus and running my fingers against the fence next to me, across chair backs as I passed them, around corners as I turned them, as I can often be seen doing. And right about the time when I realized that I often do this, the guy in front of my starts to do the same thing. Exactly the same thing. I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and tell him he wasn't allowed to do that anymore according to the Save-Grants-Fetishes-From-Being-Commonplace Foundation. Then again, you seem to share countless little quirks with me -which is amazing- so I can't complain about some guy partaking in one of my habits.

Plus I still get the perk of being the guy that people make assumptions about. Once more...let me explain: In my science class our teacher was talking about...um...something. But that's not what is important. What's important is his example of whatever he was teaching. He built up a Titanic-esque scenario where our class was on the boat and hit the iceberg and saw Jack let go of her hand and sink into the ocean and then needed lifeboats. But these lifeboats only hold 30 people. So this lifeboat ends up picking up one of the guys across the class from me because he could contribute something. Then it picked up some girl who sits over from me because people pitied her. And the teacher went on describing how this boat was picking up people from my class even though it was going over the maximum capacity. Then he looks at me and says, "Then we see Grant...and by now we have 40 people in the boat. And there's just a point where you have to draw the line and not pick anyone else up..." Yeah...my class abandoned me to the icy waters. But I know why he picked me...here is the dialogue that went on in his head: Let's see...I could pick him to be left...no, he would beat me up. I could pick her...no, she would probably sue for verbal harassment. How about...no...definitely not him. Then he saw me. Ahah! Perfect. I'll pick the quiet, kinda shy, slightly weird kid. You see, people see me and they assume lots of things. Not to say they aren't true. If you were to assume that my real name is Rupert and I've lived in Canada most of my life...you would be dead on. But if you were to assume that I am the most innocent kid ever (which I often get) you would be a little bit off.

And you would be really off if you assumed that I lead a normal life. Oh my friend...you have no idea. Example time: Remember our friend Eggplant man? Well, he encountered an untimely accident. To make a long story short, he was being dangled out of a fourth story window until he plummeted to his death and was hit by a car. Then he was placed in my scanner. There was eggplant juice everywhere.

And last but not least, you might have noticed a lack of "poetry" and "art" links. That's because I, in my never ending quest to tame the shrew that is procrastination, created the ever so hip, ever so cool, ever so sexually innuendoish G-spot. (it stands for "grant" i swear) Go over there and click and watch as your computer tries to handle the incredibly large, not very cool animations I have created. Don't worry, the poems are still there. Plus some new art.

What does Grant do when he is procrastinating? How about playing with the amazingly sad looking eggplant or aerating a coke can? Sounds good to me! Especially now that I have more time to procrastinate since I am deathly ill and stuck in my room. Oh, along with being deathly ill, I'm over-exaggerating. But I am sick and haven't eaten more than some macaroni and a bowl of fruit in three days. But does that stop me? NO! I've still been incredibly busy doing things like washing off the penis' and swear words drawn in the dust on my car, trying to figure out who the Spanish men in our bathroom were, and making prank calls.

transcribed prank call:

me: Hello sir, my name is Grant Paige and I'm from the HCFF. Can we have a minute of your time?
guy: Uh...
me: Great...we are selling light bulbs for handicapped children! These are wonderful light bulbs that last many years!
guy: I don't really want any light bulbs.
me: But sir...these are handicapped children!
guy: Sorry, but I really don't want any light bulbs.
me: But these children are suffering!
guy: *click*

So you wanna be a rock superstar? I do. And we all know that rock superstars break all the rules and get away with anything. So instead of destroying property, or having lots of sex, or doing tons of drugs, we wanted to break the BIG rule...the quiet hours rule. (now is when you all say "ooooooooh") It was 10:30pm and Breakfast Epiphanies decided to play plugged in. (once more..."oooooooooh") We were playing and I was in my own little world, my little bassist's world. Plus I was sick and not really all there. So we were jamming and I suddenly look up and see that we have about fifteen people watching us. We just had this huge audience in the lounge watching us on a Friday night. And they applauded! This gives me huge amounts of hope for our new demo CD and the shows we're trying to get. Plus I have a new bass solo that kicks some serious butt.

"Her name is Lisa Paulson...her name...is Lisa Paulson..." and I can't help but start chanting that ever so lightly whenever her name is called during roll in my audio class. And speaking of quotes...particularly quotes taken out of context...here's a few recent ones from my life:

--"nudity is the basis of our friendship"
"yeah...who would have guessed?"

--"there should be no sex"

--"last summer I had surgery on my overies...that sure hurt...but if I could get paid for it..."

--"wait...did you say that experiencing God is like having sex?"

--"D-it, if you don't stop being a B I'll kick the F'n S out of you, you A" (said just like that)

So my sociology class...it sucks. Alright...maybe that's being a little too harsh. But the teacher is a feminist who has -- in three weeks -- succesfully blamed female mutilation, single parenting, rape, pressure to look good, lowering morals, and abortion on men.

So um...I got a new bass amp, I might be working at Schlotskeys, I'm going to be playing bass for our new drummer's CD, I was insanely inspired to do a really cool art project, and I've been writing allot lately:

please tell me slowly now
holding my hand right now
leading me forward
catching my eye

only the truth be told
only the lies feel old
only my heart feels cold
only today

can you see me inside
do you feel safe by me
can you trust what I say
is this all wrong

in all the time it takes
to prove that you care
it can be torn apart
and it's been done

please do not fake it now
remove the blindfold now
let's set the stage
let's not give up

Mr. Eggplant's nose is running...and it looks like he has contracted leprosy. Maybe I should explain. Our caffeteria likes using large fruits and vegetables as decoration. So we take that decoration. I got Aaron to steal an eggplant by telling him that I would turn it into eggplant man if he did. So I dug some eyes out and let Aaron make him a mouth. The finishing touch was a nail placed where his nose should be. His home is on top of my monitor next to the crow. After about a day his eyes started sinking in and little patches of decay started forming. Today his nose started dripping and he seems to be exuding a slight odor...but I can't tell if it's good or bad. Needless to say we're going to have to find a replacement for him sooner or later.

In other news, my amp died. Did you hear me? MY BASS AMP DIED!!! Sure it was merely a 25w amp that was often played at full volume to combat the drums, but still. It died, I felt like crying, and now I might have to sell my body on the street corner to get the money for the new amp I fell in love with. It's an incredibly nice, incredibly powerful, incredibly expensive stack. But soon I'll be $700 poorer...but OH so much richer in happiness. If anyone feels the need to direct money into the Grant-needs-money-for-his-amp fund, I would gladly set up a paypal button on my site. A mere $10 donation from 71 people and I'm all set! And we would gladly promote you/your product/your company/your singleness in our CD cover. You KNOW you wanna do it.

Today was my turn to give the spoken word in front of my sociology class. After quotes from people like Angelina Jolie, I felt that someone needed to give some real advice. That person might as well have been me. So I got in front of class and read off one of my favorite quotes of all time:

Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket--safe, dark, motionless, airless--it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable.

To love is to be vulnerable.

C.S. Lewis

It was much harder to read that quote than I expected.

::

Tonight we were trying to find a parking place for Brett (who doesn't go to this school and therefore has no permit). The only parking place we could find was in a permit only section. We couldn't figure out what to do till Aaron came up with a plan. We ganked a parking ticket from a car parked across the street and put it on Brett's windshield. Therefore, if a cop sees his car and sees a lack of permit, he will see a ticket already on the hood. That means no ticket for Brett. This is incredibly ingenious in my opinion. And as far as I know, not exactly illegal.

I would like to tell you all that I have some insightful, introspective, meaningful monologue about 9*11. Or maybe a rousing speech against terrorism. Or maybe an anti-animal abuse message about Bin Laden and the gas dog. But all I've got are some slightly offensive quotes, and a few random stories. So enjoy!!!

I just got off the phone with one of Aaron's friends. Aaron was talking on the phone and says, "I think he is...", then turning to me he says, "Grant...are you single?" This led to me talking to someone I don't know from Oregon telling me about her friend Victoria who is single. And how they are all going to take a road trip later and I'm going to meet Victoria (who was described as model-like), and I'm going to really really like her. I just agreed and handed the phone back to Aaron. But hey, this does go along with the writing on the white board that says, "Grant, I love you. from a chick."
::
We have to pay money to my teacher for a play we are seeing in my philosophy of religion class. A couple people forgot the money. One girl raised her hand, and here is the resulting conversation:

girl: "I forgot my money...is there anything I can do?"
teacher: "Do you have kneepads?"
::
I might be seeing a Morrissey concert soon. I didn't even know he still toured, but he does...and I might be seeing him. Ok ok, so I do realize that most of you don't have even the slightest clue who Morrissey is, but how can you go wrong with lyrics like, "Most people keep their brains between their legs."
::
I will probably be assistant editor for a film called Crash and Burn. It's about an Opera obsessed lesbian, a half black/latino neo-anarchist, a pretty boy, and a hick who join together to get rich fast. But anyway...I wanted to see if anyone knew about the film, so here is the resulting conversation:

me: "Does anyone know about the film Crash and Burn?"
girl: "That's pretty innapropriate."
::
Last night we were freed of the oppression that is our window's screen. Emma helped us take it out. This resulted in me chucking a tennis ball out the four-story high window. And a paper airplane. I came back today from class and the screen is back in. I can only guess that Ed and Aaron did this to stop me from throwing a bed out the window next.

Utter chaos is reigning supreme here at Chapman. If you want a little peace and quiet...this is not the place to be. Let me repeat myself...RUN WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!!!

Here's the past couple of days:

--Aaron, while playing with his food, created a volcano like eruption of chocolate pudding, frosting, pink lemonade, and an oreo cookie that ended up mostly on his lap. To make it worse, this amalgamation was, according to others at the scene of the accident, vomit/diarrhea colored.

--Our room is meant to hold two people. We have three. And five guitar cases, two amps, a PA system, multiple temp. roommates at any given time, boxing gloves, three computers, and now...a full drum kit. Needless to say, it looks (and feels) like we're living inside a storage shed.

--When we're driving somewhere and we don't have enough seats, I get put in the back. As in the way back. I'm kinda like a piece of luggage. We all head to the car (and this has happened three times now) and Josh calls the back middle seat (because he figures that nobody wants that seat, so him calling it like one calls 'shotgun' will instill a desire in everyone to want to sit in that seat), Christina sits next to him...since it's a law that you can't split up the dating, Aaron and Meg get carsick if they can't see out the window, and Emma drives the car. Which leaves...me...and the 'trunk'.

--In the middle of the night our double-decker shelf that was perched precariously on top of the microwave came crashing down, sending video games, video game systems, food, eating utensils, bowls, and paper towels flying across the room. Ed started laughing, I said "oops", and then we all went back to sleep.

The other day I was sitting in my psychology class thinking about getting a piercing. These are the kinds of things I think about when I'm in class. Piercings. And stuff like THIS. And it occured to me that I would be afraid to get a piercing for one reason...pain. Now I'm not talking about the pain of getting the piercing. Though I do have a subconscious needle phobia and I nearly faint every time I get a shot. What I'm talking about is the invitation for others to cause me pain if I have a piercing. Wouldn't it be way too easy for someone, in the heat of the moment, to reach over, loop a finger around the ring, and yank?

And then it hit me...if a gynocologist is called a gyno...couldn't you call a psychologist a psycho?

But that was a question for another day.

So I went to my sound design class where my teacher talked about how she loved to listen to Nelle...and whenever she did she wanted to take off her clothes. Hmm...should I be afraid? Maybe so since later we were talking about mics and she said, "Dynamic mics are like the missionary position. Dependable. Always there for ya'. Not the most exciting, but it works."

And now...um...it's time for some freestyle writing:

all the insanity (basic inanity) can't stand profanity candidly said
else i'll bed my unrest maybe contest the best since i detest all tests lest
wait...what am i saying decaying day-freying is staying not weighing
just playing around all this sound's not profound just around and around and
i go with the flow towing fast or slow-mo only so-so i know apropo
with dreams teaming and gleaming seeming interesting
see what i mean?

don't worry it's nothing.