I’ve been doing a lot of observation lately. Not for any particular reason, I was just starting to notice commonalities in people on campus. There are a couple of different categories of which I’d like to elaborate on. The goal of my personal observations was mostly to answer the question, “Why is my school called St. C’s?” in addition to the question, “Why do people enjoy going home so much if they’re in college?”
Share links, write reviews, discuss external content of all types.
Jonny D Dialogue 4 - Yo Dude, You're Just Like Everyone Else
“Ya know I have all these abstract thoughts and big plans about apocalyptic conflict.”
“Yea, what about 'em?”
“Well, when it comes to writing, shit is never realized, I never get the feedback and shit, I just write words and they mean nothing the next day, where is the emotional involvement? Writing is just an excuse to drink tea or wine or something I think.”
“Thats bullshit, people love your writing, you're very talented.”
Words Across World(z) - On Woman In Berlin and Its Relation to a Recognition of Grand Civil Rights. And Stuff. - Jeremy Munro
I'm pretty much all about diverse diversity. I'm all about a perceived repeating of myself too. Also I'm all about the plight of people in Berlin the in the final days of and immediately after WW2. Especially the German women. The mass rapes, the violence of the Soviet's putting down a hard earned revenge on the innocent masses, well everything went full circle there. They were paying in kind for the wrongs inflicted on their people. Wrongs that have been ignored by the West I'd say. This is pretty polarized for me. Normally I'm not so cavalier about throwing wrongs and shit. I'm just saying, some crazy shit happened then, but in the mire of human beings thrown to their almost teleological end, there were some crazy insights like this one “Talking in the line, I find myself coming down a level both in the way I speak and in what I say, immersing myself in the general emotion – though this always leaves me feeling a little slimy and disgusting. And yet I don't want to fence myself off, I want to give myself over to this communal sense of humanity; I want to be a part of it, to experience it. There's a split between my aloofness, the desire to keep my private life to myself, and the urge to be like everyone else, to belong to the nation to abide and suffer history together.” Funny how someone in a different time and with a completely different set of circumstances can come to the same thoughts as me. Funny how this woman, who incurred rape at the hands of Soviet regulars and then had voluntary sex for protection with a First Lieutenant and later a Major could think something thought across the board by many people like her. But anyways. Its cool how people can have the same ideas.
I realized two days after the end before the beginning and upon subsequent completion the end was the beginning is the end. Words man, words say things, they open up a world of indefinite reality set upon vinyl to a record player of life. A side, B side, each has its qualities and each has its way of being. Can the tortoise shell glasses redeem the sacrificial lamb from its wrongs upon the hill of judgment? Can a semi-religious statement be made to seem like one come from the mouth of a non-believer? Mark off the prices of idiosyncratic Black Friday stores, raid them for their wares, for their solutions to ancient living. Turn statements and maxims on their heads and understand than going forth, that moving is preferable to standing still. Relativity doesn't apply here Einstein, understand this kind of statement too is funny because it confronts an expression. Understand wordplay might be more important than understanding, that the Black Forest contains secrets of mythological understanding set upon a pedestal of nothingness and lies. Understand that saying you are mighty fine and being mighty fine are one in the same. There is no lie at play here. The cliché goes that people always lie when they say “I'm fine” but in this case you should speak it truly. You are fine. You are alive. You are fine. You breathe. You are fine. You can eat a calzone and send that motherfucker down your throat, through your digestive tract and enjoy the crap out of it.
The Seasons, How It Cames to This, How the Faux-Manifesto, My Mouth, and Good Faith Ended It, and Why Things Organized Neatly Proved Out to Be a Godsend
Repentance is something I thought I had long done away with. What I never realized is that it is a theme constantly replaying in my life. After undergoing the events of the past few weeks, I realize I have some serious atonement to do for past acts.
This summer I called it atonement by work. By working manual labor and beating myself everyday against the walls of houses with my paintbrush I found myself redeemed.
This Fall I have no clue what my atonement will be, all I know is I fucked up and its time to earn my forgiveness. The hard part about this season is I have no idea how to atone for what I have done. This is a new theme.
I'm so done with this I'm done with that and most of all I'm done with no maturity, this is no standard call its no moment to bash or lay the blame its just a statement. The shattered soul crying out from an instant coffee cup who realized strength is fleeting and courage is temporal rather than a stance that is possible to hold on sunny days instead of rainy days. Its sunny and the world might seem atmospherically right but raging inside of the head of a passerby is stress and anxiousness over a myriad of troubles plaguing the human experience. Screw that. This human curse is impossible to get through, Vonnegut spoke right when he said life was no way to treat an animal. Its like a symbolic literal statement that cannot be misinterpreted and if it was it would be right and wrong at the same time.
“Here’s to the crazy ones, the misfits, the rebels, the troublemakers, the round pegs in the square holes… the ones who see things differently — they’re not fond of rules… You can quote them, disagree with them, glorify or vilify them, but the only thing you can’t do is ignore them because they change things… they push the human race forward, and while some may see them as the crazy ones, we see genius, because the ones who are crazy enough to think that they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
- Steve Jobs, 1955 - 2011
Rest in peace to revolutionary.
An Excerpt of Something Not Read at Open Mic (Now With 100% More Pretentiousness, Long Titles, and Semi-Witty Asides!)
An Excerpt From My Fake Manifesto - A Manifesto of Non-Collective Bargaining, of Individual Expression, of Striding Forth, of Dealing With the Teleological-Suspension of the Ethical, of the End of Self-Reflection, Introspection, and Other “ion” Words
AKA – What a Philosophy Final Should Be
An Example of Why I Know Nothing
Words Written to Approximately Twenty Cups of Water and Big Band
by Jeremy Munro
This pain is deniable as it is debatable. This pain is strong as it is weak. Obtained at the hand of natures beast as it writhed and wriggled in anger at being caught by the tenacious predator known as man, its final charge, its final insult, its final wound inflicted is the sharp spike plunged into skin. At first a minor pain, but afterwards the innumerable holes ache, made worse by the saltwater still lurking around in his body. This being from depths never seen by the eater is taken out of its habitat and consumed with voracity. It is delicious.
Man, I always thought it was funny how eating crab or lobster can be hard and kind of painful. Its like a last screw you to us shellfish eating human beings. It is tasty.
Something, Nothing, and Things.
9:07 minutes (12.53 MB)
Sound quality is eh, turning down volume helps.
Done off the top of my head.
Suburbia was never the problem.
The ethical dilemma that faced us as demonic teenagers was
Moving forward in "punk clothes" clutching drum kits and amps tight
Through the washed out backroads of New Hampshire.
Suburbia was never the solution.
The lack of consistency, the omnipresent hypocrisy
Encountered both in school and the venues was
Fighting and arguing for our place
The fog machine my friend broke out in his apartment set off the fire alarm, which freaked me out a bit so I peaced back to my dorm room, the following is an account of the things I saw on my walk back and the thoughts that followed on a Saturday night in April. It was the first nice night of the Spring Semester.
5:03 minutes (6.94 MB)
So I got bored during all this time of rain and just started ranting to my computer mic. Musical sounds behind are Minor Threat songs.
What Punk Rock Means To Me.
What the end of the year taught me about living deliberately.
So many moments of intimate conversation. The coffee shop had its distinctive smell. We sat at the usual table. Every night was the same. Sitting around with Ahmed and Justine and a rotating cast of people we know. I'd get back each night late, having a final the next day. Sometimes I just wanted free time after going all day, others I thought studying was in order. At the end of the year though all I wanted to do was to talk.
when people ask me what my favorite band is, i have a hard time answering. i love cocorosie but explaining their style and how i listen to it is too difficult for a simple, shallow conversation. i also can’t answer with ‘the playlist whose title matches my mood’ because that’s too vague and precarious and never a nice thing to respond with. so i default to death cab for cutie. it’s weird hearing people’s opinions on them. sometimes they’ll laugh and remember how awesome and visceral those concerts were, or sometimes they’ll smile and breathe out a nostalgic “ohhhyeah!” and recall their older favorite songs.
If you aren't living passionately, what the hell are you doing?
By Jeremy Munro
It was Opening night at the gallery. It might as well have been a gala event, a red carpet premiere as far as I was concerned. All the awesome people were attending and my coworkers were excited as well. We all love the student show. I showed up twenty minutes early in my black dress pants, brown dress shoes, blue skinny tie, and tan dress shirt. If my mother found out I was clashing this much she'd kill me.
Three Pictures of Humanity
by Jeremy Munro
# 1 – The Hipster