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post #41
bio: tim

first post
that week

Previous Posts
'I've Got Something Brand New (for that ass)'
Watch How the Zombies Scream (it's the crack)...
'tis Spring and your Mothers Cry
Mama Sang Tenor
Not Even Close to Being on Topic
To gather or collect swiftly and unceremoniously; grab


Some scary things I was involved in in my teen years:

German club
National Honor Society
Boy's Swimming

Running around the block in like January in Michigan in my Boy's Swimming Speedo swimsuit on a dare posed by my mother. The dare was for my brother and I to run around the block in just this piece of clothing, no socks or shoes or hats, for a crisp new $20 bill. We set out. The sidewalks are covered in ice and snow. If you've ever been to Michigan in January, you would know that it is ass cold, and this is especially true if you are naked. My brother starts out running very quickly. Don't stop moving. I keep up a good pace until I round the first corner and a car stops in the street and begins to ask me if everything is alright, am I being abused. The people in the car. I have stopped moving. My feet begin to experience what can best be described as freezer burn. Then I take off again. It did not occur to me to turn back and just say that I had run all the way around the block, so I continued. Humbling.

The Flu

Backpacking, Hiking, Weekend camping in the forest in the winter. Not so scary. Actually a lot of fun now that I think of it. I can tie knots and stop your wounds from gushing blood. I can do all sorts of interesting survival-in-the-woods type shit. I have an innate sense of direction and can point out North to you while blindfolded in the trunk of a car. Ok that's a lie. But I can read a compass. Whenever I step into a forest or a wooded area, I feel that nature boy start to speak up. It is then when I tell the nature boy to shaddap.

Sierra Club. Not affiliated with the national organization. See above passage.

Teasing the girl who sat in front of me in Spanish I in seventh grade to the point where she had no other recourse but to arc her left arm over her head and bring the pencil in the hand down onto and into the top fleshy part of my left knee. I still have a black dot there from that pencil attack. Stacy something. I so deserved that. Good for her, I say. Hi Stacy!

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