Pretend this is a frame.
Pretend this is a frame.
| Episode 26: "The Phantom Arises From The Darkness..." (December 1, 2003) |
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Holy crap....is this....holy crap....do I still have a....HOLY CRAP!!!! I have a journal? Oh, well I should make entries in it...and stuff.
Wow, it's been since October 11th now. That's nearly two months. I never officially decided to stop writing in this journal; it's just that the feeling never came to me. I've always said that the Sean Christopher Weekend would only occur when I feel like making an entry, and I stand by it. Actually, I don't feel like writing right now either, but I thought I should probably make another entry by now. So, you know... I suck.
An entire play has come and gone since we last coalesced, my friends. "But what play was it, my dear Connor-Payton?" you ask in a creepy, Victorian English accent. Why, child, it was a play entitled The Man Who Came To Dinner. All you old-school subscribers may remember the fact that I was in this same play in 10th grade. Not only that- I played the same part, the gloriously insane Professor Adolf Metz. I'm proud of being typcasted as an insane, Kramer-like German scientist. That means I have a bright future of...wearing bowties and stroking beakers with mysterious substances in it...excuse me... Okay, now that that's out of the way, I need to get down to the horrible, depressing, grueling stuff that has plagued me these days. Today, oh my brother, was perhaps one of the most horrid days of all my ages. It involved awakening at 5:30 AM (not really awakening, more like getting out of a bed that I laid in for three hours like the insomniac I am), going through airports in Pittsburgh, Baltimore, and New York City, losing my baggage, and getting viciously yelled at by old ladies on a phone that sound exactly like George Costanza's mom from Seinfeld. Needless to say, I laid in bed for a very long time this eve, and dreamt of frolicking in a garden of fairies to relieve myself of stress. I also ordered Chinese food....but you don't have to take my word for it!(Reading Rainbow theme plays in the background)
O, Face Owens! Of all the unique phenomenons that occur in life, there's one that I don't give enough credit to. I'm talking, of course, about the Orange Sky-Colored Days. Yes, you know the days I'm talking about. They're always on Sunday, or the last day before a week of school. You wake up at noon, to a sky lit up in an orange tint by the Sun, and cram all your God-foresaken work into those few hours you have left. You don't get a chance to leave the house until it's Sundown, and the sky is once again all orange. These are horrible days- depressing gems where work must be crammed inside, and no fun exists. However, you must admit- the Orange Sky-Colored day has its own strange kind of charm. So next time you wake up late on a Sunday, don't just say "Crap, I have to do all my work in a few hours!" Instead, just take a look up at the orange sky and say, "Hey...Connor Murphy must be on crack for writing about this." Mark Hayduk Although I definitely like my life here in college better than at high school, there's one thing that I feel like I'm losing out on- laying motionless in bed. No, I'm not talking about sleep. Sleep is a waist of time. Laying motionless in bed, though, is a grand old American pasttime. You just turn the lights off in your room, slip under the covers, stare up at the ceiling, and, well...the rest is up to you. Fixate on all the things that went horribly wrong that day, plan the next day out mentally, dream about your friends getting murdered by Mexican Cowboys- whatever you want to do. But when you have a roommate, you find that he comes in around dusk, sees you lying there, and thinks "Whoa...I can't handle this". If anyone knows the address to a nice shed/cottage/sewer/tree stump in the New York City metropolitan area, please email me its location at ModernHouseholds@hotmail.com I will pay you nothing in return...ingrate. 4th-Grader Voice: I know....we'll bake cherry pies out of your Mom!!!!! (Armageddon Ensues). It's odd how having all your stuff moved to somewhere else gives you a new perspective. I mean, all my things are crammed into one half this little dorm room at college, another state than where my family lives. Then there's the nice house I've lived in for years in the suburbs of Pittsburgh, where the rest of my family still lives. And which one of these places do I consider to be home? The half of the dorm room, of course. Why? Because all my little possessions are stacked up here. Maybe it's materialistic, maybe it's a destiny head-trip deal, or maybe it just depends on where you sleep at night- but whatever it is, my home is here at Room 212, St. Robert's Hall, Queen's Court. In a matter of a couple months, the whole view of where you live can change...whoa, I just mildly blew my mind. [NOTE: This is not an invitation to my room. You will be shot if you are seen attempting to enter my dorm room, or standing within a three-foot radius of my door. Unless, of course, it's between the hours of 12:00-4:00 AM on Friday night. In that case, you will be pulled into the room and will engage in several rituals involving strawberry marmalade and beekeeper outfits. Then you will be shot.] ...right. Well, threatening to kill people means I should stop writing (according to my lawyers). I plan on updating this thing rather frequently from now on, so be on the lookout for that. But don't get your hopes up, kid. Always remember that I'm a lying, swindling, gambling cheat that never sticks to his word. And that I want to put my evilness inside you. In the worst way. Fin.
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 25:"Micetrap (Old English)" (October 11, 2003) |
Will ya look at that- another big gap between entries. That makes me fashionably late. I find it ironic that the more interesting my life gets, the less frequently I write in my journal. Then again, it makes sense. Let's get this sickly injured pony show on the road, alumni...
You live in nothin' but an oil factory. You gotta get thangs right. Now this entry is over and you'll probably wonder how long it takes for me to pull another one out of my ass. Or maybe you couldn't care less about this journal. Yeah, that's the ticket.
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 24:"Sam & Janet Evening" (September 27, 2003) |
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The Sean Christopher Weekend has officially sanctioned the world into these sections:
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| Episode 23:"High On The Sly" (September 20th, 2003) |
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Look at this- another eleven-day period with no entry. And yet, I still have an awesome excuse: the Internet was down up until now! So screw you!
The list format sucks. Just so you know. Bitter Astrid Last night was Friday night- the freest point of the week, but what does that mean? Nothing. You could end up doing nothing (which I usually do). So I decided to creepily carouse the streets of the Bronx. Walking in and out of Hispanic-owned grocery stores is entertaining to me in a strange way...analyze me, please. Bitter Astrid So I finally made it to Manhattan today. Although I did nothing (quite literally), it was still important to go. I have to get the feeling right of walking around there. It feels right in small doses, but every now and then, I get the fear that a psychotic, homeless Vietnam veteran will tackle me to the ground and rape me. And what's worse- I may not even enjoy it. No matter, it's something I'll have to grudgingly get used to in this desert life. END PARAGRAPH NOW. Back in Winston High, I said I had these two best friends...
I can't decide whether or not I'm overwhelmed around here. The work gets done by the end of the night, but I've received very few grades, so...I may doing a crappy job. If college work proves to consume my life as much as high school's did, I swear I'm pulling a Fight Club and hitting ground zero. As far as the whole name saga goes, it looks like Connor is now in the lead. Only the Fordham Comedy Troupe (which I may be a member of) calls me Payton, and then a few other people in my dormitory. What will my name be when I graduate? Mitchell. Mitchell will be my name. Yeah, that's the ticket... That's all I can muster right now. Sorry if this was a crappy entry, but right now, I feel like my veins are filled with apple juice. Continue rocking in the free world and living out the American dream. File a lawsuit against everyone you know and demand free soup.
Have fun in the sack, |
| Episode 22:"Kate Army Returns" (September 9th, 2003) |
Finally children, the time has come. Peters Township has been blown to Kingdom Come (at least in my mind), and I have nomadically journeyed off to a grander place. Here I am now at Fordham University in the capital of the world- New York City. It was only a matter of time. Needless to say, much has gone on since the last episode. The entire essence of my life, and consequently The Sean Christopher Weekend, has now been altered.
Okay, that's where it all ends. Overall, I'd say I'm still not 100% comfortable here at college yet. There's still that strange anxiety when all the people are standing around the hall talking. The fact that I haven't watched TV in a week is just one of the many strange facets of my temporary condition I could go on and on about...I can only hope that I become 100% comfortable sometime in the near future. But come to think of it- have I ever been 100% comfortable?
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 21:"She Stoops To Conquer" (August 28th, 2003) |
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Hello my treacherous friends. You're probably wondering why it's been so long. This time, I actually do have a very good excuse: I was in Ireland. That's right, Ireland...the place where my gene pool supposedly originated. No, the people there don't all have issues. I know you were thinking that. Let's start some rounds:
I feel so horrid right now. I have to sum up an eleven day trip to Ireland to you people. You guys don't deserve it. Then again, maybe the Pope is reading this, so let's think of ways to describe the trip...
Ireland is now a developed country. Here are some company names I saw there frequently, but never in the USA:
This trip consisted of me and my aunt on a tour bus. The rest of my family sat home and pined for me. When I was surveying the people on our tour bus (who were primarily American), I noticed that there are mainly two groups of Americans who visit Ireland: people who have Irish ancestry (I fall into this category), and New Age people who go to Ireland to worship "The Goddess", look for leprachauns, and commune with spirits. There was at least one person in our tour like this. And what's with the whole communing with spirits thing? I mean, if you never knew them while they were alive, it would be kind of awkward. If I were a spirit, I'd probably just like whisper "You shall die on New Year's Eve" so the kid would leave me alone. Ahhh, that's refreshing. As I was saying...Ireland. My aunt and I went way out of our way to visit the town of Ballina in County Mayo. You see, that's where our ancestors came from. It was kind of scary to see it, because the people there all kind of looked like me. Black hair, pale skin, freckles...not one hot person, in all seriousness. What was even scarier was the fact that the town surgeon has his office in the upstairs of his house and doesn't start work until noon. I want to commune with him. Since the tour route was all around the country, we had to go into a different hotel room every night. In some kind of peculiar, subconscious form of protest, I kept all of the plastic door card-keys from every hotel. They're all sitting in a pile on the desk of my room. I didn't even realize I was doing it during the trip. In honor of that, I'm planning on starting a raid in 2006 where I go back to the Emerald Isle and randomly break into hotel rooms using the cards. You can sign up to join this brigade by sending an e-mail (even though I have no lasting e-mail address right now). And now comes college. It's only in two days. Yet now, I feel so unaccomplished and languid. Right now I'm sitting here in pajama bottoms writing an online journal while all the people I went to high school with are doing their homework. There's so much crap to do before I leave...maybe becoming a mass murderer will solve everything.
Oh well, this may in fact be my last entry until I ship off to Fordham in New York City. I'll chat up you local yokels through this here journal whenever I get the computer hooked up in my pad over there.
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 20:"The Mouth Adventure" (August 11, 2003) |
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You're somewhere. In the future. And you look a lot better than you look right now. Anyway, I'm sorry it's been an entire 11 days since my last entry. I never meant for the gaps to be this big. But something always comes up. ALWAYS. The forces of the Universe do not want this website to happen. You should feel like a rebel. Now, without further adieu:
Take any given night. ...okay, that's enough gaying it up for now. There's a vampire train of the night for me to catch somewhere. Until later, my depraved, Slavic chickadees of the Bungalow generation, focus on wanting...and nothing else.
Have a nice Holiday, |
| Episode 19:"Workers Are Going Home" (July 31, 2003) |
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For the first time ever, I received feedback about this website. Oh, the tingly feeling that I have inside now! You and me should elope.
Listgals in surity.
Although this has been a massive summer of blandness, there are always a few blips of activity that steers me away from me self-depricating thoughts. Take last night- out of nowhere, I was called upon to flee from my abode unto Mike Bradbury's house for a party. As a result, I had to go from 0 to 60 by shaving, changing out of that one pair of pajama-pants I've worn all summer into real clothes, and then doing my hair in some kind of semi-unique fashion.
This nocturnality I'm going through is turning sinister. I've been going to bed at around 7-8:00 AM every night(or morning), and it's turned my condition of living upside-down. Essentially, I now live alone. It's not quite as great, because I have to be careful not to wake up the others, and I don't have total freedom, but it's still a bizarre way to live.
Greetings from the lucky 4th bread. I've been considering the wonderful world of No-Doz lately. Maybe that's the answer to beating this nasty body-clock problem I have. Then again, it might just screw me up even more...IM/e-mail me if you have an opinion on this. But really, who e-mails? Yeah, so...I've been hearing rumors on the Internet that I'm dead...any truth in that? Whenever I ship off to college, more crap will be going down in my life, so I have a feeling that I'll update this page more frequently then. Or maybe I'll update it a lot less. Have I already said this before on this journal? I don't know cause I don't read it. I tried to once and thought it sucked. Sorry. Have a marvelous bake sale in Utica this year without me, and always be weary of the Gates of Hell.
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 18:"Come To My Pod" (July 27, 2003) |
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In my pod There's no one there, we'll be okay. In my pod We can smoke the night away. And relax Have fun In my pod
In his pod
Okay, now that we're alone, I can recap on events from the last few days: You know, that's a common theme with people I know. They all want to touch me inappropriately...as a joke. They all know that I'm uncomfortable with physical contact, so they think it's funny to touch me- and this has its advantages and disadvantages. With some people, you just may secretly like it. With others, well...the barn is for them. The day before was even a grander shindig of events: The Weird Al Concert. Of course, a concert's night out never really revolves solely around the concert. Scott and Jeff, the usual suspects, swept me away that evening for a magical journey into a world of inanity. We ate at some Chinese restaurant that was way out of our way. The greatest part was, it was only like 40% Chinese food. They served lots of wonderfully unrelated foods at their buffet, like Microwaved pizza, Italian chicken, and cold French Fries(not the Freedom kind). Still, you have to be Asian to get a job there. How awesome is that? After that came the Good Will. In a strange way, that probably is the greatest clothing store in the world. They don't care what's in style, and don't impose a single suggestion on you by the store's imagery. The clothing is just...there. I bought this light-brown corduroy jacket there- the kind you see them wearing on Welcome Back Kotter or in one of those 70's Soft Rock bands. I felt complete as a human for that night upon purchasing it. And now: the depths of despair.
The concert itself was total Rock-n-Roll Martian awesome. I don't own any Weird Al albums either, so that's a massive compliment. This didn't occur to me until I was invited to the concert, but I have absolutely no opinion on Weird Al.
Above anything else in my mind right now, I want a gun. I feel good whenever I'm holding a gun, even a fake one. I don't think I've ever even held a real gun. This all seems very disturbing, and if I ever go on a killing spree, people will probably look at this entry and go "It all started here." Tubular. This website is a disgrace to my people and my nation. Therefore, I will leave you to your devices as I soar upstairs and dream of 24 particular people who happen to flit about an ethereal Café I know. Good Night.
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 17:"Nothing For Christmas" (July 21, 2003) |
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I got back from vacation last night.....where can I begin?
Wherever the Hell I want, foo. And the color scheme there...so bright. Pastel, oranges, colors I normally hate. But they fit in there. And the sheets of my bed are gayly shaped and bright...for some reason I don't mind.
Every commercial there a local advertisement for some store or restaurant open for one season.
Sea water...I wade in it, lay in it...and unlike the pool at Rolling Hills, it's never awkward. My siblings and I make up a new game every ten seconds. Johnstown Flood, Zombie Tag, Hi-jacker, Ultra-tackle, you name it.
Everybody's doin' it- SEA CREW It's weird to wake up at 2 PM everyday and not have your family yell at you. It's vacation. It's Californiaesque moog synthesized music. It's not. Sometimes I feel like North Carolina is the second state I live in. So anyway...I've been watching a lot of the Style channel lately...does that make me gay? And throughout all of this, I'm keeping in mind that I have about a month left of this place. Then, a new era begins...and even this website could change drastically. You've been warned.
Have fun in the Sack, |
| Episode 16:"Gotcha! The Sport" (July 11, 2003) |
Oh no...five days? I can't slack off this badly. Summer is just that much languid. Oh yeah, this is the beginning of season 2. Yes, that's right. I just decided that this journal not only has episodes, but seasons. Beat that.
I'm being called upstairs now. I have to go pack for fun in the sun. God, I hate the condition my life is in right now. Wish me luck on blowing this Hell-hole soon.
Have a nice Holiday, |
