Apocalyptic Summer

It's Saturday, the last real day of Spring Break and I'm at work for an 11 hour shift. The week sped by; it was a sun-soaked blur of crowded interstates, drug deals in Cambridge and Ipod's on shuffle. Thursday we took a trip to the beach, stopping in southern CT to ask for directions and to take a bathroom break. My long-time friend Jackie and I waited outside so I could have a cigarette, as Jill and Nick wandered inside a fast-food restaurant to relieve their bladders. I lit the bog as Jackie turned to me and spoke,

"Ever since Kindergarten, we were the good kids - the smartest, the most motivated, the most involved. Now we're stoned sitting on the hood of a car in a Wendy's parking lot in Pawcatuck, Connecticut and I have no idea how we got here," she paused, gazing up at the clear, azure sky before sighing, "What happened between then and now?"

Eyes closed, I took a long drag of my Camel Light, her words fermenting in the corners of my mind. I sat up and opened my eyes - and suddenly Jackie was 5 years old again, a mess of freckles engulfing her small face and her thick, brown curls tossing in the wind. I looked into her big blue-grey eyes and I could almost hear her childish laugh echoing in a strange, yet familiar distance. I stared straight into her 5 year old eyes and I saw everything.

I think I always knew that the two of us would someday be standing together facing the end of the world. And there we were, on that April afternoon, more than 13 years later, acting like nothing had changed. To onlookers we were nothing but loitering, pot-smoking, nicotine addicted juvenile delinquents. To eachother, we were the same little kids we'd always been, laughing in the sunlight and dreaming of summer.

What happened between then and now?

back and forth through my mind, behind a cigarette

I'm at dinner with Meaghan and we're running out of french fries. The waitress never smiled so we don't bother to tip as we leave and drive to Jon's house. We walk into the basement and it's worse than I thought. Pong in the backroom, couples spooning carelessly on the couch, taking breaks from dry humping only when it's their turn on the table. Fresh alcohol stains spotting the carpet as soft techno music hums inaudibly from the stereo, the beat drowned out by a blaring television set. I can't remember why we came. I approach a few people I can tolerate and pour myself a mixed drink with someone else's liquor. I'm sitting here sipping from a Dixie paper cup that contains probably the worst alcoholic beverage I'd ever consumed and I think, this is why I hate high school.

Meaghan mouths "Let's go" even though its only 10:00 and we'd only had 2 drinks. I put my coat on, lying when Jon asks if we're going to another party and sprint up the stairs and Meg says he knows we're lying, but I pretend not to care. I light a cigarette even before we're in her car and it goes out twice because it's windy. She drops me off at my car and I drive fast to Alex's because I have to be home early but I end up waiting outside for Meaghan anyway. We see an even smaller group than Jon's but the faces of my friends fill me with optimism. Elyse and Jill slip out the door while the rest of us migrate to the basement to get stoned and I'm taking 4, 5, 6 hits and I don't think I can feel it yet but it doesn't phase me because Jackie is lighting a joint and Meaghan is talking about Apple Cider Donuts, and after the joint I pull her upstairs so we can have another bog. Elyse and Jill are walking down the stairs with 3 boys I don't know and they're all carrying beer; they look older than us but I know they're not. I recognize one of them as Jill's newest love interest but I don't pay attention because me and Meaghan are stumbling out the door laughing about something that won't be funny tomorrow. I light another cigarette and realize I should have left 5 minutes ago. Alex suggests packing a bowl and I don't resist. One more hit, I say. Meaghan asks 'do you have time for this' and I pretend I don't hear her. One of the boys I don't know sits with us and he reminds me of a monkey as he takes a hit. Outside again. Last cigarette with Meg. I'm about to say goodbye when Elyse walks out and lights a Camel 9 and suddenly I'm persuaded to have another. I don't have time for this.

I'm finally in my car and Kate Nash is singing a White Stripe's song and I'm not even nervous about coming home stoned and an hour late. My whole street is dark except for my place which is glowing, my mother's anger illuminating the entire house. She's awake and I think she says 'Why are you home so late' but I'm not sure so I just eat a handful of Goldfish crackers and shrug. I'm lying awake in bed thinking about how my mom can't trust me and that Jon knows I lied and how I don't even know where I'm going to college. I try to inhale slowly but my chest is heavy. I'm feeling anxious and alone but then I remember that my friends are lying in bed feeling anxious and alone and I smile and my Ipod is playing Neutral Milk Hotel and I'm falling asleep.

The Doomed Generation: Euro Edition (Vol. 1)

I arrived in Spain at 7 in the morning and went right away to see my exchange partner, Maria. I hadn´t seen her since her visit in September so our reunion consisted of a long embrace and the traditional double kiss. Her father picked us up at her high school and we went straight to her home: a large flat nestled 18 kiolmeters west of Madrid. I proceeded to "siesta", or nap, for 4 hours. I was awoken to find that many of my friends and their spainards were going to eat a late lunch in the town. I through on a sweatshirt and headed out in to the vast foreign wilderness, which was actually more of an urban jungle complete with fully functioning transit systems and an ATM on every corner. Blanca, Maria´s best friend, surpised me with a pack of ciggarettes the moment I arrived at the resteraunt. I was ecstatic. After pancakes and ice cream at Vips, we walked to a local pub for beers and bogs. We were a large group and many of the spainards seemed, and were, young, but we all managed to down a few Guinness half pints before returning home around 10.

The rest of the week, thus far, has been full of predictable tourist activities and stealthy cig-smoking to avoid disciplining from my psychotic spanish teacher, our chaperone. Tommorow is Friday, and we are headed to the Discoteca. I plan on getting plastered and dancing with countless equally intoxicated spanish girls. Maria just told me we will probably arrive home at 530 in the morning. Let´s just say Saturday will be dedicated soley to my Siesta. Undoubtedley, it will be worth it.


Will I get into the 7 floor discoteca without proper Identification?
Will I set the record for most ciggarettes chained smoked in a 2 week period?
Will I run out of money because of my substance abuse and nicotine addiction?

The answer to these, and other burning questions will be available soon.

So this is the New Year...

2008 is finally here. Graduation. Trip to Spain. 18th Birthday. All of these are things I have to look forward to this year. But let's not get ahead of ourselves, because all of those are months away.

Last night was pretty fucking good. It didn't start that way, however. Me, my cousin Brendan, and three of my other friends were at Wendy's around 5 pm, chowing down on Frosty's and eagerly awaiting the evening's festivities. Just then we received the text that no one wants to read on New Year's Eve: "Party is off." We were devastated. Turns out some Lame Kid that has never even partied with us got caught with two 750's of booze. His excuse when confronted by his overprotective and potentially psychotic father:

"It's not mine, Alex asked me to get it for his party." What the fuck, dude? Blaming Alex, who barely drinks, because you were compelled to by a shitload of hard liquor for a party you weren't invited to anyway? Not cool, Lame Kid, not cool. So the aforementioned father proceeds to drive to Alex's house, and forces Alex to call his father. You can imagine the conversation. So it's not surprising the party was potentially off. But after some serious texting, we discovered it was still on, but the guest list had been reduced to ultra-select.

Me and my cousin arrive: the party is a disaster. Alex's dad is carrying trays of appetizers and coolers of Generic brand Cola. No alcohol is in sight. (there is some hidden in my jacket however). Everyone is playing video games and look about ready to fall asleep. I was already making plans to bounce before 9. One hour and a lot of spiked drinks later, the party was in full swing and kids were walking in aimlessly off the street like malnourished hobos wandering into a soup kitchen. Brendan begins shamelessly flirting with my friend Jill. Probably the best looking chick, ever. So of course I'm proud of him, he is family after all. I spent the evening catching up with kids that had graduated and spending time with my best friends, all while I was shitfaced and in the best mood. Could it get better than that?

Come to find out around 12:15 am, my cousin and Jill are bone-ing on one of the bunk beds. Everyone was unnecessarily making a HUGE deal out of it, which made it pretty damn hilarious. So I guess New Year's came in with, quite literally, a bang. By 3 am all the hard alcohol was basically gone and I had just toked for a while, so i grabbed a Bud Light for a cool-down drink, ceremoniously settled into my spot on the couch, started watching Harold and Kumar, and was out by 3:15.

So it was a pretty chill night. If it's any sign of what the following year will be like, bring on '08. The moral(s) of the story? Don't invite Lame Kids to parties that are out of their league, never underestimate your Cousin's ability to get laid, and always make sure to spike the Cranberry juice.

"Anything can happen on a snow day"

As the days are winding down on my high school career, everything seems to be happening for the last time. Could today have been the very last time I will ever wake up to read "Regional District #1 - Schools Closed"?

Will I ever again be able to ceremoniously dance around in my boxer briefs before collapsing back into a deep sleep?

Probably. I mean, it's only December. We're bound to get plenty winter weather in the coming months. But this just shows me that I can't take anything for granted. As excited as I am to wake up from the recurring suburban nightmare that has plagued me for 18 years, I'm still going to miss the simple pleasures of adolescence, snow days being a significant one.

and also, what am I going to do about Stephanie? This chick is out of control. Yeah, so I had very real feelings for her for an extended period of time, but I've made it clear to her on more than one occasion that those feelings have changed. Now she's psycho and obsessed with texting ominous messages like:

"You can't have your cake and eat it too," or
"You're not worth my time. Or my tears."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean? Yeah, she's always been a tad dramatic, but this is extreme, even for her.

"We're always open"

"We're always open"

stated a brightly colored sign posted on the door of a local McDonald's.

The irony? It was locked.

The restaurant was still open for business however.

Me and my friend Elyse just had to proceed to a different entrance.

False Advertising, for real.

But besides that little fast-food mishap, life has been going particularly well lately. I've now classified myself as a "social addict" when it comes to cigarettes, which basically means I smoke regularly but i just bum them off of everyone instead of coughing up 5 dollars to buy a pack myself. Plus it allows me to continue saying, "No, I don't really smoke."

My weekends have also been getting better and better. This weekend I managed to get baked Friday night and sloshed Saturday night, and still make it to work for 7 am each of the following mornings. (Of course, an immeasurable amount of caffeine was involved) This success has given my ego a boost it most certainly didn't need - now I feel almost invincible. I mean, if a 6:05 wake up call can't hinder my good time, what can?

But the oncoming pressures of college application deadlines are threatening to put a damper on my newfound state of contentedness...

Side note: if anyone is tempted to give James Blunt's cover of PB & J's "Young Folks" a listen, DON'T. It sucks more than a transvestite prostitute supporting her addiction to crystal meth.

So, in short, I should be stressed about college, homework, and money. I mean I spend about 50 bucks a weekend on drugs, booze, gas, and food (arguably life's 4 essential components). But in reality? I'm not stressed. I'm going to get into college. I'm going to get my homework done. If everyone else followed my lead and chilled the fuck out, we might actually start having some fun in this town.

Halloween = Epic

It's hard to pinpoint the exact moment i knew this was going to be a good halloween. But from the very start to the very close everything seemed to just fall into place . Seems fate was on our side this All Hallows.

We were driving tonight and saw a bunch of pre-teen drama queens walking around our friend's neighborhood, and some other worldy force compelled me to roll down the window and shout "YOU'RE ALL BROKEN".

The rest of the night is a haze; a blend of quicksand and candy corn, attacking bonfires and killer dip, dialated pupils and Deja Entendu. Epic is the only word that seems to fit.
Field trip to NYC tmrw? Anyone? Anyone?

I have an inkling that I'm gonna read this blog tmrw and regret using the word inkling in this sentance.

and then I'll just regret it all. so read quick before i realize the error of my ways and start deleting. because this may be the one time you'll hear me. I'm about to pass out on the couch with Pink Floyd: The Wall playing on the tv (it's on vh1 movies that rock as we speak). I'll set the sleep timer and drift off into oblivion. Oblivious. So fucking oblivious.

Maybe they were all broken.