Today was my last day of classes. All I have left to do is to set up my Printmaking exhibit and take one exam. But I'm not going to talk about that.
I am going to talk about The Last Hurrah, the tentative (and disputed) title for this weekend. Kris and Max are coming up to Ann Arbor, possibly for the last time but possibly not, to celebrate (for Kris) the graduation of the last of us that she worked on the Gargoyle with. Max is coming because he likes parties and hugs. In reflection of deeply-ingrained ideas of hospitality, I am scrubbing down the house, trying to locate the source of our recent, abrupt ant infestation.
If all goes AS PLANNED (by me), we're going to go to see The Antlers on Friday, and a midnight showing of Hausu on Saturday. Hopefully this is what will happen. This is what the hive mind that controls both myself and Sam Nash, as well as thirty Polynesian boys, wants to happen. The Antlers were one of three bands that carried me through last summer. Maybe because it's great music to listen to on headphones while you avoid acknowledging your roommate's existence.
Anyway, it will be nice to have the excitement and busyness of guests to distract me from what would probably be a long, dull depression in the face of the end of my childhood.
IF YOU AVOID EMOTIONS, THEY GO AWAY
IT'S TRUE; ASK SCIENCE
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