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Fucked Up College Kids File 324
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= F.U.C.K. - Fucked Up College Kids - Born Jan. 24th, 1993 - F.U.C.K. =
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Louie Armstrong's Sunday Afternoon
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After going through what had seamed to be a eternity of virtual
imprisonment, I decided that I needed a change. Casting off the shadows of
my dark abode, I traveled to a place were the frozen grip of suburban hells
could not find me.
When I arrived in the promised land of downtown, it became easier to
breath the sweet car emission filled air. The sky was not filled with
yuppies judgment and expectations but instead it had taken on a
non-judgemental "I don't give a shit" blue sky. The people around me did not
walk with time's mechanical death grip, but instead walked without care or
purpose. It seemed as though here emotions were allowed to be displayed in
a way that would strangle the 60 hour, work your life away world.
The trees and birds usually ignored and abused by the rest of the week,
were now being as loud a possible to make up for lost time.
Ultra-conservative business men and bad ass bikers let go of their pride
and co-existed in traffic. Old men in tired old faces thought about lost
love and lost faces.
In the park, yuppies in stupid clothing and armed with overpriced
exercise equipment fought a futile battle with the Reaper for a few more
seconds of life. Skaters taking advantage of the virtually empty sidewalks,
took upon themselves to infest the streets and enjoy the day.
Canadian geese with Mexican tourist tans and suitcases full of souvenirs,
stood on the ice and were spoon feed by elderly and children. Office
buildings who spent most of the week nervous and stressed spent today
relaxing and preparing for Mondays onslaught. The wind, tired of being
burdened with it's collection of car noises and pointless commentary,
decided to restyle my hair in some odd fashion.
I walked into a coffee shop to feed my caffeine addiction. At the counter
there was a girl with bright and short cherry red hair and a nice smile. She
did her best not to laugh out loud at the sight of my hair or to spill my
coffee.
Believing that I had left time back in the wastes of the suburban hellhole,
I leisurely drank my coffee and let my eyes take in the afternoon. Without
reason and or warning, time caught me in my downtown nirvana and without a
shred of mercy dragged me kicking and screaming back to the cold suburban
hell.
Now I am back in this cold and unrelenting hell, clone like idiots do
horrible impressions of Beavis and Butthead, and the same dismal sky is above
my head. If it were not for that day of escape I would have most likely have
ended my pointless existence here and now with a bloody exclamation mark on
the wall. As I write this I can feel that day embrace me and for awhile keep
the trails and hells of a superficial life away from me. As I think back to
that day, I thought I recalled old Louie and his froggie voice singing that
in fact it was a wonderful world after all.
Sick_boy
bridley@cabler.cableregina.com (ask for Sick_boy)
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