By braving the waters of eBay, I was able to buy a guitar! Wish me luck.

1-800-Dani's-20 no longer.

The search for Russian tea glasses, a milk cart, the base of a full-length mirror, and other items for Fiddler continues. The good news is that there seems to be a plethora of sewing machines at my disposal.

I've recently lamented that my life is not more like Seinfeld. TIT: think about it.

Never play crab-ball.

I have a crush on a PoliSci TA that I don't even have! Beware the dangers of review sessions.

Job? What job?



In the course of one day, I manage to upset one person by forgetting about plans we made and upset another person by not making plans. That takes talent. Ranjana expresses her resentment on the Web, Hari expresses his in an e-mail sent over the Huntsman Program listserv. Technology is wonderful!

Just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.


Senior Year

September almost passed by without an entry. That was close!

The most noteworthy event of the month was Jenn and Tom's wedding. I had so much fun. It was nice for my "large, Italian Catholic family" to be together to celebrate. I also had two of my best friends there. Nana did the dollar dance. Uncle Don thought I would go to college and "become serious," but he thinks I'm still silly. Lots of crying out of happiness was involved. When does that ever happen?

I can't really hold a thought right now. But it was a wonderful day.

Senior fucking year.

The recent trip to Delaware was smashing! Poor Andrea was on the losing team of Flip Cup. I read America's Funniest Worms and discovered that Amanda was a child prodigy.


How Does It Feel

The SAT score: 53.

A long list of things to clean, buy, and do.

ClotH entry: How does it make you feel when you see the kids that were freshmen when you were a senior in high school driving cars, now graduated and headed off to college?

It makes me feel old, and reminds me how quickly time goes by. My egotistical side wonders if I have made a positive influence on one of those kids' lives. It makes me think that such a random collection of people's histories will be linked solely because their parents decided to live where they did. I feel love for my college years and appreciation for how the world has changed for my band of Whippanites and me.


The List

Putative, sputative, and disputative: I love that they have nothing to do with each other. I'll be done with work on Saturday. Irish history. The Wicked Witch of the West's college roommate was Glinda. "We love our lovin' but not like we love our freedom." Prostitutes protest in Lyon. @ klammeraffe spider monkey. Happy new year, happy new year.

That's my drift.


Jesus Christ

Jesus Christ was a total fox.

On a whim, I removed my tongue piercing last night (I'm sorry, Cristine).

I went to Seaside Heights and ate a lot of Seaside staples.


We Could Talk Or Not Talk

All quiet on the Whippanong front, to be expected when most aren't speaking to each other. An outsider recommended I say, "Get over yourselves," but in a nice way.

We manage to remain in high spirits, formulating the Summer Aptitude Test, and laughing about the rituals of test-taking that have left their mark. Cheap yellow scrap paper that rips when you erase, "One or two?" "Use the top of your pencil to break the seal," "I will now read you the directions to Section I," "Which of the following is NOT true," "c) I and IV d) IV ONLY," the little stop sign.


What's The Point?

I drove around in a convertible listening to opera. This is something I wanted to do for a while, and it was as fun as I imagined.

I know someone who...microwaved their underwear at work. Genius.

What college freshman doomed to live in the basement of a dorm wouldn't love the hall theme of "The Caves of Tora Bora"?

ClotH entry: What do you believe is the meaning of your life at this moment (considering the experiences you've had in the 20-odd years you've been alive)?

At some points, life does seem to be a random lottery, as they say. But if all those who contend that everything happens for a reason are correct, then what is my purpose here? What is the meaning of my life? Jesus, don't people go insane thinking about things like this?!

I can tell you things that are important to me, but it's not like I'm on some sort of quest where my purpose is clearly defined. At this juncture, learning is important to me. Knowing more stuff. Having fun is important, too. Together these things make up a driving force of what I do.

Something else I've worked on during these college years is to continue to become the person I want to become. That's a very awkward way of stating that I wanted to be more honest with other people about what I think and feel, be more honest with myself. It's difficult for me, but once you get going, it feels really good.

While it doesn't happen often, I do get a twinge of the "I have something to prove" variety. But the entity I have to prove something to is vague. Sometimes I think it's my parents, sometimes I think it's people I used to know who wouldn't give a fuck about me anymore, sometimes I think it's people I've never met, or me. You want to have this romantic feeling that you've conquered adversity, but I don't want to exaggerate challenges I've faced. At the same time, I don't want to understate them. Strike a happy medium there.

I'm also here to turn everyone gay. There is an element of seriousness behind this joke. No, actually, two more recruits and I get the toaster.

I'd like to shoot back something that I don't think about the meaning of my life because I'm too busy living it, but I'm really not all that busy seizing the day, otherwise I wouldn't be at the Whippany Diner so much. It would be nice, though, not to care if you died tomorrow. However, since I care, I know my work here is not done.

I'm really interested to see what other people think about this question. Does everyone think their life has a point? I don't necessarily think mine does. Today, I don't live mine like there is one, but I like it. Maybe it is a big joke that I don't understand, but I manage to appreciate its humor. I have to stop thinking about this before I spontaneously combust.


What Next

I didn't know how Nana was going to end, but when it did, it was perfect. I don't wish to give it away, though, because what if you want to read it one day?

Michelle had a fun party this weekend where I drank too much and said more, but to the wrong people and about the wrong things. However, since I know this, I'm ready to take action.

Now we move on to my first "Clash of the Huntsmans" entry. Look, it can be abbreviated ClotH! Here we go: "After shelling out the big bucks for this quality education, what do you want to be when you grow up?"
Well, so much for easing into this.

I don't know if I'll ever be sure of what I want to be. The plans change as often as my underwear, and I'm a very hygienic person.

Right now, I'm preoccupied with thinking about the Foreign Service Exam, just because I can't really apply for anything else yet, and because the written test is not so far away. This career path will ultimately lead me to become Secretary of State. Then I will try to make the rest of the world not hate Americans as much. Fun and challenging!

At the end of last year, I wanted my first job to be teaching English in France. While I probably won't do this, I want to teach sometime in the future. I want people to turn out better than the people of today, and I think teaching is the way to do that. Or raising kids. I want to be a father when I grow up, too. We're in for a wild ride.

International Security sparked my interest in the applications of my International Studies degree and also led me to take two I.S. courses this fall, one of which doesn't really count for anything (that's dedication). In contrast, Consumer Behavior was such a bunch of shit (who would have guessed) that my interest in a marketing job is waning. The fact that I don't have a marketing internship also contributes to this, but I'm not losing all hope. On the plus side, this auditing thing has proved more interesting than I thought. With more responsibility, I don't think this would be a bad job. Ha, says the kid with C's in Accounting. What if, when all is said and done, The Spark's personality test was the truest measure of my future? Well, I'm not ready to concede that. It says I'm 100% likely to kiss Ranjana, Gustaf, Yelena and Hari's cousin when drunk.

I could see--more easily than I'd like to--taking a less than ideal job in order to make money to get my own place and go to grad school. That kind of pisses me off, but I do not want to enter the "real world" in debt. Plus, leaving Whippany is important to me. I don't think anyone that knows me would call me an idealist, and I think that has helped me keep my sanity. You are protected when plans don't materialize.

The times I am most happy at school are when acting like an idiot in musicals. If evaluating my future career plans using the maxim "Do what makes you happy," then I've failed already. (That was not a dream deferred, but aborted.) But I stick by the practicality of that decision. Besides, in the choice between 2400 arrogant, competitive, snobbish, budding capitalists and corporate minions and 2400 erratic, dramatic, egotistical, "activist" artists...well, that's one lesson I've learned this summer. Nevertheless, when I grow up, I want to be rich enough to give some money to the Penn Singers (if it survives and is not swallowed up by PAC).

Still, I contend that my ultimate dream job is picking what songs go on the soundtracks for movies, and it saddens me to know that I'm not technically trained for this at all! At least I can derive some vicarious pleasure from making mix CD's, but I'm not really prepared for that either because I don't have a CD burner. The other dream job would be writing for The Onion. "Thousands Die in Indonesia Again?" "Home-Schooled Student Opens Fire on Breakfast Nook?" How brilliant are these people?

I want to be wiser when I grow up. And I want to live long enough for Mike and I to go on an old-people trip to Atlantic City, where I can gamble away my fortune from my as yet unidentified career.


You Never

And in the middle of investigation, I break down.


Tall, Dark, and Vacant

This week continued much in the same manner as the rest of the summer.

Discussion involved "good person/bad person" analyses. Shallow as that dichotomy might be, it's fun to think about. 1) I'm not inclined to think of myself as a good person because I'm not that self-assured. Or maybe because I'm Catholic! 2) But I can't seriously consider myself a bad person because I don't believe that. Or maybe because I can't seriously consider anything. 3) Possible reasons for the latter are a) I'm really dumb, or b) what I really believe: over a long enough timeline, everything is funny. 4) I conclude I'm a good person, a bad Catholic, and I'll still make fun of people, although it is unkind and unattractive. There. My seasons of self-loathing are usually short-lived.

Another discussion involved "reading people." This was on Saturday, but someone brought it up again five days later. What can I read in that situation? Perhaps someone wants further discussion, or else why would one bring up a subject again? And why label yourself as shallow at the beginning of the week and close the week arguing that human beings are too complex to read? Of course human beings are complex, otherwise such about-faces would make sense. Furthermore, I defend seeking out information for the sake of satisfying curiosity. That should be understandable; I know how well someone deals with uncertainty.

And now the weekend lies wide open. I will buy Abbey Road.


Go With The Flow

You can guess how much work I've had this week...

I had a fabulous Fourth and hope you did, too. I learned chess, dominoes, and a new way to prepare corn.

I read online newspapers when I'm bored at work. The United States secretary of health and human services says the Bush administration is committed to reducing the incidence of H.I.V. among American youth by 50 percent by 2010. I don't see this commitment and abstinence-only education adding up. Moral Hazard made a nice point: "Conservatives aren't the enemy. Liberals aren't the enemy. Bullshit is the enemy." How appropriate.

European vicarious memories, Part I: Mike teaches relationship slang, Dani gets Roger's autograph, Andrea and Elaine visit a Venetian arsenal, "Jesus is off the hook" and Sue wears sausage casing. Hey, what do you want from me? My life's just not as interesting.

Apparently MT's friends are coming back east this fall. We should have another party.

I found a Rod Stewart song I like! Well, I don't actually remember most of it, so take that statement with a grain of salt. The refrain is good, though.

Crab Doublers, anyone?



Whippany is all anger and absurdity. There have also been blasts from the past, like Terry Fiesta and hanging with Cia, Erica, and Rohini. Welcome changes to the normal routine. John A and Rob W at the JCC provided the latest glow of reminiscence.

The Spirit was stolen and then resurrected in Manayunk. J.P. was kind enough to ride around in a police car with me before riding off into the sunset.

I work here this summer. Bob would appreciate that I hear The Living Years on a daily basis. Standard!

Meanwhile, I'm already fearing next year's thesis, job search and everything that goes along with them. I should make one of those web diagrams to express this. It would be scary and far-reaching. Après août, le déluge.

The business world in flames!


End of Days

You have to go to Vance Hall now. Steiny D is getting ready for the move to Huntsman Hall: "building Wharton's home for generations of leaders."

Le Silence de la Mer. What was that guy thinking? It's worth reading. Things are very quiet here themselves, but with their share of shea creaturesh.

Do you speak French, or is that bullshit?

Bye Bye to 4050.

The Whippanites have been flowing in and out of Europe. I hope everyone has plun.

My God, I'm a senior.




too much.



These last few days, there's clearly a collective mood of doubt and depression, but there's also no shortage of horniness. Inspired by the ATF, I've been downloading Liz Phair, and came across "Flower", which hasn't ceased to make me laugh yet:

Every time I see your face
I get all wet between my legs
Every time you pass me by
I heave a sigh of pain

Every time I see your face
I think of things unpure unchaste
I want to fuck you like a dog
I'll take you home and make you like it

Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever thought of is
Everything I'll do to you
I'll fuck you and your minions too

Your face reminds me of a flower
Kind of like you're underwater
Hair's too long and in your eyes
Your lips a perfect suck me size

You act like you're fourteen years old
Everything you say is so
Obnoxious, funny, true and mean
I want to be your blowjob queen

You're probably shy and introspective
That's not part of my objective
I just want your fresh young jimmy
Cramming slamming ramming in me

Every time I see your face
I think of things unpure unchaste
I want to fuck you like a dog
I'll take you home and make you like it

Everything you ever wanted
Everything you ever thought of is
Everything I'll do to you
I'll fuck you 'til your dick is blue

All together now!


Hey Day

It's a been a while.

Spring Break '02 was off the hizook. A motley crew went to Key Largo and thoroughly enjoyed itself. Wow, it seems like such a long time ago now. We saw one of the worst movies I've seen in a while, The Time Machine. It's really funny when th e fianceé gets run over by the carriage, though. We went midnight bowling and Heather got hit on by D.J. Dave. We went to Key West. We went swimming while drunk; "watch out for the sand sharks." We were there at the fair in Miami! We drove around in style in Ol' Blackie. Josh forced us into about 23 Taco Bell runs. Pat and Fran have cocktail hour! Mark Evans turns me on.

Then there was more anglophilic madness with Ruddigore. Can you jig it?

Brooke posed the question, do the ends justify the beans in Hershey's employment of child slave labor on cocoa plantations in Côte d'Ivoire? But we chose to ultimately analyze the problem through the ISCT framework. Personal thanks to Brooke and Raina for covering my ass.

I've spent many a night-to-morning working on marketing projects. Yana and I had many adventures, from gender to gpa to college year to homeless people at 4 in the morning. She's a cool chick. No doubt.

Barbara Schaff nous a rendu visite.

Superstar rocked, sold out on Saturday. My 'rents came down and gave me beer for my birthday! Speaking of which, the party was definitely a high point of this semester. Ask Dani and Bob for some memorable lines. Or read this letter from Erin, written in the wee hours.

HEY DAY. I'm a senior now. Ooh.

Josh and I performed our skit at the Alternative Theatre Festival.

And what am I doing now? Reading Days just started, thus I am fucking around with this page. Also looking for that ever-elusive internship. Maybe just a job now. Also trying not to be an unreliable asshole. Also formulating summer goals, this year's is learning how to play guitar. But maybe I shouldn't get my hopes up; I didn't learn to drive stick, after all.



I will update soon, I swear. I haven't even talked about Spring Break!



No Exit

"Hey, look. Jesus is here!"

I say something to that effect in Jesus Christ Superstar. Rehearsals are going well. This is a fun show to do because I like the music a lot, and we get to be all different types of characters. But it makes me think, too, because I tend to th ink about such things. What if the apostles were really like us? Hmm. I can't correctly word what I mean to say. It's also weird to be taking part in a crucifixion, even if it is fake.

I feel like writing today instead of highlighting.

Bob and Yvonne came to visit. I had lots of fun. We saw Mask & Wig. My housemates had a Chai Coffeehouse! We sang Pink Floyd and Toto. Asshole was played. Then Hari wrote a sociology paper on it, and made everyone else read it, because that is something he would do.

Then I went home to see Guys and Dolls. It was worth the trip. I got to see Kim, as well as some old WP Theatre cohorts. The Whip Diner crew concluded that we're getting old because we woke up early to save money and take advantage of the breakfast special. I conclude we are also just as stupid as always because the special didn't really exist, but that didn't prevent us from having a fabulous time. Those muppets are scary.

The Saturday breakfast experience should have been a sign: no twenty piece chicken McNuggets for $2.99 in West Philadelphia!

Love, sex, infatuations, and attractions: the analysis continues.

Experience proves that the answers to questions are best found out by asking the question.

Our friend MT plays foozball frenetically in faraway Frankfurt. One day, we will have some pictures from Lyon.

My contacts are killing me. Must write more!

The Nice, Shot Cat Quote Page has passed away. E-mail me if you want a text copy to treasure for years to come.

"It is hard, it ain't pretty, I can't past that Hexagon City." One man learns that a decision that makes you happier is a good one. I guess that doesn't take into account ethics or opportunity costs. Nevertheless, just because Hexagon City is a bitch doesn't mean you give up on the whole puzzle. Everyone will fail, but they will get past it in the end. We should ask ourselves if we're doing anything to reach the next level, because time itself doesn't solve the problem. Learning is involved.

And I'm afraid of dying, too. That can relate back to decisions. One day it will all be over (I'm the morbid one), and I often find myself thinking, "I wouldn't want it to end this way," i.e. with choices hanging over my head, with these things unsaid, with nothing resolved. So my goal is to minimalize the occurrence of that thought pattern. You are nothing else but your life. If you don't like it, then change it.

"On meurt toujours trop tôt - ou trop tard. Et cependant la vie est là, terminée; le trait est tiré, il faut faire la somme. Tu n'es rien d'autre que ta vie."

We survived February, though, but maybe my GPA didn't. We shall see. Of course, we still don't have our fucking grades from France!


Langue d'Amour

To continue a theme, today's subject is: Why speak French?

Mike thinks things sound more profound in French, and complaining sounds much less whiny.

In accordance with Bob's theory that I'm a snob, I speak French. Forget all this crap about loving the country and the culture. That's fine, but when you choose a language in 7th grade, how much does a culture you know shit about really factor into your decision? But back then I was still a snob, I suppose. And if you're pretentious, French is the natural choice, don't you see? Then again, Bob and Jenn both took Spanish...

But the real fun of it is best explained by Luisa, who wonders why, when writing or speaking French, it always seems like you're addressing a lover.

Clearly someone does not want to do his homework, find a job, exercise, or anything besides amuse himself right now.

I'm in love with International Security and Leslie Evans.


I'll Take Some Of That

She said, "Let them eat brioche." Not cake! I'm studying for a French test. Back to studying. More later.


Weekend Update

The stresses of the week end pleasantly in a Crêpe Soirée and baking penis and breast cookies with the roomies.



HELLO! I'm back from Lyon. I was going to include an entry on the whole trip called "The French Reflection", but we shall see if I ever get around to that. There are some additions to the quote page, mostly thanks to the sparkling wit of Ms. Slutskaya.

Winter break was much needed though too short. Some rivals stepped on our Whip Diner turf. We need to do something about that. New Year's was good fun. Paul effectively prevented Len from stealing our sunshine.

Mu is off in England, but she finally got her senior yearbook back. Cheerio, Mu!

Balthasar is a very good name for a pet fish.

I liked all my classes this week. Isn't that weird? Thomas Hobbes is the MVP of the week, having been quoted in three of my classes: "Life is nasty, brutish, and short."

Go see The Lord of the Rings and A Beautiful Mind!

I lose umbrellas, but I get by with a little help from my friends.