These are a Few of my Favorite Things

I find beauty in simplicity.  The simple things like getting a good grade, winning the multiple-choice game, and destroying someone in a graded discussion all serve to brighten my life.  But my favorite moment out of a slew of fantastic memories comes from something truly beautiful; Moushumi's mustache.

The internet, unfortunately, has destroyed every single scrap of evidence of this gorgeous, life-changing piece of beauty, so I had to place a replacement picture on the left (which I hope you can see).  Anyway, I had just finished this book which I did not like and only had solace in the knowledge that I had a movie to look forward to.  But, if books usually outrank the movie, then I knew this film was gonna be crap, but, "We live in an age of ideals", so I went along with the hope that I would find marginal entertainment in watching Kumar NOT go to White Castle for some reason.   The film started with the soundtrack of Ms. Serensky snickering away at some hidden knowledge of an impending rite of passage: There would be life before this moment and life afterwards.  After sitting through a great deal of trite nonsense and cries of "Gogol" from Chris (and myself), I heard the resounding cry of "Zounds!" from Shoemaker (I exaggerate a little, but you get the idea).  What could have made him shout so?...Only the oncoming of marvelous destiny in its full pheonix-like form.  I looked up from my copy of All My Sons (OMG I'M AN ACTOR! HEY EVERYONE LOOK HOW WELL READ I AM!) to fully take in the oddest collection of images I have ever witnessed: A strangely pudgy-faced girl with ill-fitting glasses, hair that looked purposefully awful and, to top it all off, a certified grade-a mustachio.  The culmination of emotions in the room rose to a high collective giggle as we all marveled at this quick glance into a parallel universe of horror, but for me, "There's no anger, no joy, no indifference", just pure astonishment at the revelation that I can never truly "un-see" this nightmare...So and that is why I have such fond memories of AP English!

Who Put These Two Together?

Scene --  Maine, Reggie Fox's new manservant Lane has arrived carrying a tray of two champagne glasses and holds a considerable amount of C4 behind his back with the other hand

[Enter LANE]
LANE.    Mr. Reggie Fox
[Enter FOX]
FOX.     Yo, what up Lane?
LANE.     Not much Reginald, what's crackin'?
FOX.     Do you remember what I said about robbing banks now that Disabled Social Security no longer pays for you as my manservant?
LANE.     "No sir; it is not a very interesting subject."
FOX.    Well shut up, the government ain't payin' you to say boring stuff.  You are paid to announce my entrance into every room and put swizzle sticks into my champagne.
LANE.     Yes sir.
FOX.     Now keep the bank thing in mind cause "I'm gonna get read weird with it."
LANE.     Oh I do love pop culture references sir!
FOX.     Shut up Mary Poppins, now, did you get that C4 I asked you for?
LANE.     "Yes, sir; eight bottles and a pint."
FOX.    C4 comes in a liquid now?
LANE.   Science, sir.
FOX.     Indubitably, mothascratcha.  Well anyway, I'm gonna use that C4 to not just rob a bank, "I'm-a blow that motherf***** up."
LANE.    Well that will accomplish absolutely nothing positive sir
FOX.  'Scuse me?
LANE.    Simple math dictates that destroying a building with a great deal of money leads all that money to be destroyed...even simpler math dictates that you are an imbecile.
FOX.   "Least you finally bein' honest."
LANE.  When am I ever not honest?
FOX.     ....Shoot
LANE.    Good day                                                                                                         [Exit LANE]

Today Was A Good Day

Today marks the day, the day of all days
An hour upon, which all shall remember
As the great AP multiple choice game.
Students quake in fear as I enter the room.
There is less quaking when the other three
Blacken the doorway with their presence.
Alex Kreger, Thomas Donley and John
All trail behind me and form something
Great, we are the Redeem team.
"Holla! stand there!" I shout, we are here to do
One thing, and that is win. Then kill my wife.
But soft! Challengers approach with brute eyes
And stupid nicknames like High Style and Iago.
"He's the most popular boy in class", says
A girl with odd hair and a cool partner.
The teacher quiets everyone with a
Glare that tends on mortal souls.
"Number one is A" she speaks, and all cheer
"No talking until I say who got the points"
After the hush, she assumes "All groups"
A cheer resounds, high-fives and cries of "Toast"
Litter the air with their inanity. "Except"
She smiles a devilish smile and turns
"The dream team" O how her words burn!
"O, blood, blood, blood!" cry I, my rage rising
Thomas just journals, while Alex surmises
 That I have developed a new rhyme scheme
And the end of the act means the end of our team.
We must step ahead if we wish to succeed!
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers
Carry on through the dark of an initial
Setback. Point upon point, arme upon arme,
We earn our keep as the team dreams are
Made of. As the final question approaches,
The score remains tied between our good souls
And Greenlaw's stacked team of champions.
Lady Serensky utters some garbage
About something wicked this way comes,
Then announces, bold and proud, the ending,
As it should be loud, "Our winner here,
I must admit, although I find them full of"
"Get on with it!" I shout, "Enough of this
Petty pace". "Fine," she states, "Of course it's you"
"They cheated!" shouts Henry, "Through and through"
We won by being smarter than you
"This only is the witchcraft I have used"
And so my best day has come to an end
Give not this rotten orange to your friend

Why I'll Never Interview A Cocaine Addict Again

Partial transcripts from the files of Dominic Russo, B.S., B.F.A., Actor and Unqualified Psychiatrist, Chagrin Falls, Ohio.  Client is Rodney Thibodeau.  Sessions conducted between 4/7 and 4/7.  Transcribed to hard copy from my Capote-esque memory. 


4/7, Thurs., 1:00-1:50 p.m., client's home


Who are you?
.....
Oh, you don't look like my normal psychiatrist, that's why I asked.
.....
Yeah, I was!
.....
Why do you need to say what I was in?
.....
Oh, it's a cool literary device? That's nice.
.....
No I do not know what a literary device is.
.....
Well, starting over then, I was in AP English 11 last year!
.....
I don't know about any of that, I think anyone could take AP English.
.....
Yep, even me!
.....
Well actually cocaine really would have helped me get through that class, because I get distracted sometimes with a lot of instructions
.....
I don't remember how cocaine connected to that.
.....
I forget things pretty much all the time.
.....
Well it reminds me of when Junior says, "You're smarter than me in a lot of ways.", except at memorizing quotes, which explains why I dropped this year.
.....
Oh yeah, I understand two things really better than everyone: Baseball and non-fiction literature. I guess people just like to watch baseball more.
.....
No, I would not say that, after all, "Everything matters".
.....
What?
.....
I never say that in the book?
.....
So that quote does not count?
.....
Oh, well then I guess we still have to force two more quotes then, huh?
.....
Oh it's no problem, I'll wait.

4/7, Thurs., 1:55- 3:00 p.m., client's home

Did you have a nice bathroom break?
.....
Thank you, I bet you have nice sinks too.
.....
Oh yeah, AP English! I totally forgot! Um, I guess I learned how to write. That matters a lot.
.....
No, Junior did not do AP English.
.....
I would not say he missed out much, he can find a great place to discuss literature and develop a class-wide bond that no one else understands somewhere else.
.....
"Listen, I don't like you saying things like that about my brother."
.....
Well he got scared of Ms. Serensky like every other junior in existence.
.....
What?
.....
I don't get it.
.....
Oh, his name is Junior and he was a junior in high school at one point in his life, I guess that's funny.
.....
You're probably right, I don't really understand most complicated jokes.
.....
Junior, the junior, thought Ms. Serensky's quotes were funny but a little, um what's the word?
.....
No, it starts with an "r"
.....
Rushed! Yeah! But he understood, he said something about nice gestures and too much thought, what do you think?
.....
About the quotes.
.....
You think they could go away?
.....
No I don't believe that.
.....
"Because God wouldn't do that to us."
.....
I'm sorry, this interview isn't working out.
.....
Because even I can tell you're not really a psychiatrist.
.....
Because of your Heinen's uniform.

[Client exhibiting uncharacteristic signs of agitation; calling real psychiatrist, calling the police, calling a pizza guy, frequently mentioning introducing my head to the business end of a Louisville Slugger]


.....
Dom, I want you to go
.....
Because the pizza will be here soon and I'm one-hundred percent positive you peed in my sink.
.....


[Client shouts something about how the sinks are no longer pretty, rising from his seat and exhibiting highly agitated and hungry behavior.  Session terminated.]

Living on the Edge

There's a remarkably refreshing feeling that comes from coming home at 11:07 p.m. on a Thursday night and realizing you have to type a blog and a comment by midnight.  Ooh that sweet adrenaline that you no longer receive thanks to your healthy diet of zero athletic activities and facebook overdosing.  You rush up to your father (who, as par usual, is still up and wearing silly pajamas) for a late dinner and plop down in front of the computer for the most frantic typing session of your life (besides that one time in third grade when you really wanted to beat that smart kid at a typing contest...you lied anyway about how fast you were after you lost, but this time you feel like a winner).  You pick up your guitar (your only source of solace in this Willy Wonka-esque poop factory you call a home) and, ballerina-like, snag the tray of recently-microwaved chicken from your father's lanky, too-skinny-for-his-own-good arms.  The time has come to prove who you are as a professional B.S-er.  Your talent is B.S.-erry began at a young age from your very first fib (that your dad, did in fact, have a job and it was a : Awesome basketball-playing astronaut karate-master) and has now grown into full fruition.  After Bull-spitting the king of all Black-swatters (A Mr. John Brownlow), you come to the conclusion that only way to go up is through meta-blogging...and ooh it feels so good.  Another quick bite of that semi-zesty chicken to spur you through the next sentence and you feel the end swiftly approaching.  This battle against time has left your left wrist feeling the familiar creeping arthritis that runs in the family (along with several other wicked awesome hereditary diseases like heart attacks and cancer!), but still you press on.  Just one more sentence. Something to end on that sounds like you actually have some intelligence left in that empty skull....Bingo! Yahtzee! You've got it! Eureka! End on something everyone remembers, a staple, a memory.

Thank you.

True Life:I Seem To Think I'm a Rapper Now

This is how I imagine I look when I freestyle rap in the middle of band.  Just kidding. I look way cooler than that guy.  If you have been anywhere near me in the past couple of days, you may have noticed me mumbling to myself in some sort of a lyrical fashion while awkwardly bobbing my head up and down to invisible bass drums.  No, I have not joined a cult, I have instead developed a sad belief that I can rap with some talent.  Why I have now chosen to drop into a rhythm-infused faux hip-hop artist at this point in my life, I have no idea.  I can possibly attribute this to a vast knowledge of hip-hop instilled at a young age (I was given a copy of The Chronic when I was nine) finally coming into bloom or perhaps some sort of mid-young-mid crisis due to our newest book Everything Matters!  What if I die tomorrow without fulfilling my secret dreams of being able to rap!?  No one will feel the heat of my rhymes, hear my simply popping (with a hard "g" sound) lyrics, or stomp to the mad beats that I put down!  No one will experience...Dr. Bear...yes that is my rap name...Dr. Motherscratchin' Bear.  With this new persona, I can do anything!  People will say "Why does Dom keep calling himself Dr. Bear?" and someone wiser will say "You mean, 'why does Dr. Bear keep calling himself Dr. Bear?'".  It can only grow from there: I predict some fancy cars, a new laser helicopter (I'm a nerd), and a whole bunch of ladies (uh...to keep my girlfriend company...I hope she does not read this...I'm a nerd).  So, when I own the airwaves with my vernacular of the streets (or go to jail), you can remember me as that kid with the dream...who ended up in jail.

Let's Play:Pop The Bubble!

I, like many of you, have decided on a senior project that I find creative, educational, and a good use of my time for a few months.  Also, like many of you, my senior project was rejected by some administrator who shall remain unnamed (in order to protect Mr. Steven Ast's anonymity).  My senior project involves me producing and directing a student-production of Samuel Beckett's Endgame, a very powerful one-act play, and seemed to me to further my studies of theatre and expand my knowledge of my craft so, of course, I found myself very confused to be called down to the office for a meeting. Mr. "Last Name Rhymes With Sast"'s reason? It was too "In the Bubble"...what? Because the only theatre that in their right mind would let a teenager direct happens to be in Chagrin makes it not worthy of my time?  I can not learn if I spend time in Chagrin? What does that mean? If we live in a well-to-be (albeit predominantly white) community, why does that cancel out a sense of worldliness? After posing these questions to Vice Principal Dingus, I was awarded my right to direct, but what about others who actually think out consequences before they do things (like refer to their Vice-Principal as a dingus?) The bubble may hold us back culturally but the students here are blessed with a wealth of opportunity that should not be discouraged for mere geographic location.  If you had your senior project rejected (and it wasn't something stupid like "Interning at a party factory in Cancun!") then pose these questions. I'm sure you'll get results!...and that I'll get in trouble for this.