Phil Rempel can be quite the dumbass

This guy is really annoying.

1: He's principal purcussion for the orchestra, thus he gets to assign all the parts.

2: He hogs ALL the timpani parts for himself!

3: He didn't bring the snare drum music today so I was stuck banging away at the mundane base drum.

4: I had to do this all the way through our new music, which just HAPPENS to be by one of my favorite composers, Rossini (the overteur for his "Gaza Ladra" opera).

5: When I asked him whether I'd get the snare drum part he just said: "probably"

well, maybe I'm just being petty and selfish, but it's still pretty off-ticking.

And a rock feels no pain...

Yar. Well, life's been purdy good lately I must say. Had a fabulous trip to the big old piece of grass and dirt and rocks known otherwise as the Great Pacific Northwest. Border guards are funny fellows. They can be quite surly and still look silly and absurd. One can never laugh of course. That would be rude. And one might also get one's car pulled over.
But anyway, we went to Seattle. That great city full of fish, Nirvana, Jimi Hendrix, and loads of other stuff. EMP was great. It's too bad it's all designed to cater to people with no musical ability. Grrrrr. I still jammed very effectively in upwards of three locations however, and that was good. I discovered something while I was there. I love rock and roll, but not that song. Don't spend another dime on her music, baby!
Thanne wente we to the citye of Vancouvre, whare I (in true vyking fashioun) attacked Northe Vancouvre and forced themm to betrothe their moste virtuouse young womann to marrye me whann she reached the age of thirty. *Laughs an evil viking laugh*

Today this illustrious writer penned another masterpiece in essay form, and that's about it. Fare thee and thy kinsfolke welle!

That's all, folks!

Well, not really. That's right, I'm going to continue plaguing the internet with meaningless drivle! haHA!
But anyway... As the 2-4 of you may have noticed, that last narrative was an extravaganza of description and allusion. I wonder, just how many allusions did YOU notice?
YOU. Not him. Or her either.

¡Instalación Final!

At this the first man looked a little flustered, but he turned to me and said: “Ok listen up. My name is uh; Fedrick*, and these guys are Harry, Enrico, Mike, and Jorge. We’re going to knock over the HSBC on 124th street, and we can’t leave you here so you’re gonna have to come with us.”
I thought it would be very rude of me to refuse to join them, even if they were bank robbers, so I consented. They gave me a black head covering and we all went down the elevator and got into a safe-looking corverre. We drove for a few minutes until we came to a big bank with lots of Chinese letters on it. Then the men got out of their car and started to try and unlock the doors without setting off any alarms. I thought I should help them because they had been so nice in letting me come along, so I got out. I went over to the door and had a brilliant idea. I had been wondering why the men didn’t just break the glass doors, but they might not have thought of it, so I took my purse and swung it so that the hard buttons would hit and shatter the glass. They did, but I think one of the men must have set off an alarm at that very moment because all of the sudden we heard very loud bell ringing inside the bank. The men jumped into their corverre but it wouldn’t start, so the police soon came and arrested us all.
Well, the police took us to the station and after a lot of questions, they sent me to see the chief, who was very nice and offered me some coffee. The coffee came in handy because the chief wanted me to tell him my entire story. After I finished (it was a long tale indeed) he burst out laughing, asked my name, and if I had any relatives nearby. I told him I didn’t know where I was and this made him even merrier. He was a very jolly police chief.
When he had stopped giggling he told me the name of the city and I remembered that my grandniece Catherine lived there, so he telephoned her and in half an hour she and her husband Richard came to pick me up.
I stayed with them for a few days and after that they took me home on the ferries.




*This misspelling is entirely intentional.

Cuarta Instalación

In this museum I also noticed many queer people walking about and looking at the displays. There was a woman who seemed a little afraid of everyone else, a strange person who walked in a very peculiar manner, a hobbling man with a cane (he should consider a walker; they are much easier to handle), and all sorts of other people. I began to grow tired after a while, but as I couldn’t find my way out I sat down on a bench and dozed off.
A few hours later a nice security guard woke me up and told me the museum had to close, so I got up and she showed me to the exit. I didn’t quite know where to go, so I walked for a little while and went over to an ugly green apartment building. I pressed the button on one of the intercoms and asked the people in the room if they would let me in. It was very cold. I heard some low voices talking very quickly, and finally a much clearer voice said: “Is anyone with you?”
I replied of course that there was no one else, so after a pause the same voice said: “Ok, come on up.”
I took an elevator up to the fifth floor and found the door to the nice people’s apartment. I knocked, and a man opened the door suddenly. He looked up and down the hallway very carefully and let me come in. Inside there were four or five other people. They all had black head-coverings on their heads. At first I thought it was because of the cold weather but recollecting that we were indoors, I knew it couldn’t be that. The man who had let me in looked at one of the others and said: “What should we do with her? We can’t let her go now, she might tell somebody something.”
The man he was speaking to retorted: “No. We can’t. You had to answer when she rang on the intercom, didn’t you?”

Tercera Instalación

After a time, we started to drive through lots of tall skyscrapers and the bus stopped in front of a grand hotel. All the people were getting out so I thought I had better do the same. I climbed down from the bus and wasn’t quite sure where to go when I saw a large group of people being led by a nice-looking man, so I followed them into a huge old building, which I think was a museum. The doors to the museum were gigantic and very heavy, but the man leading the group was kind enough to hold them open for me. On going inside, I saw a coat-checking desk, so I gave them my coat and walked down a hallway. There were lots of lovely paintings on its walls, and at the end of it I came to a queer little cinema. At the back of the cinema there was a big statue of Cleopatra, so it must have been Egypt-themed, but there was nothing showing on the screen so I went out the door (different from the one I had come in by).
I walked out into a great big room filled with little dioramas and all sorts of things. There was a small stuffed harp seal, and displays of desert and tundra, and a frighteningly real-looking stuffed Kodiak bear standing on its hind legs. But what most amazed me most was the enormous whale skeleton hanging from the ceiling. I still can’t imagine how they could have brought such a large creature all the way from the ocean into that room. It must have been hard. After I had walked through most of the room I saw a long escalator going up and up to where I couldn’t see anymore. There was a sign beside it that said: “Coming soon. The first and only touring Led Zeppelin exhibit: Stairway to Heaven.” (I have a faint recollection of the name, but it might have been unpleasant so I believe I forgot it.)

Segunda Instalación

I walked along until I saw a bus stop. I thought it might be diverting to take a bus after all these years, so I stepped on one in the middle of a crowd of people. There was a sign on top of the bus, which said, “Ferry”. I thought this was somewhat strange, since I knew it was a bus, but the men who put it on there had probably just been confused. I climbed in, paid the nice driver, and went to the back of the bus so I wouldn’t disturb anyone. We rode for quite a while, and finally the bus came to a strange, white loading station of some sort. It was enormous, and from time to time it would make thunderous, long honking noises (like an automobile, only much louder). The bus finally drove into the loading station but there were no lights in it, so it was very dark for a long time. I got dreadfully bored after about an hour, so I went to sleep.
When I woke up there was light and we were on the road again. As I rode, I saw many peculiar buildings (probably temples) that looked very oriental. I thought perhaps we had gone to China or India, since I did not know how long I had slept for. The temples themselves were magnificent; they had large, beautiful roofs, with walls and gardens encircling a few of them.

Cuento nuevo

I’m not used to adventures. I’m sure my grandchildren have them all the time, but not me. So what happened a little while ago was all very new and exiting in some ways, a bit confusing in others. But I’m getting ahead of myself. My name is Anise Altfrau; I turned eighty-six last month, and live in Mother Agnes’ Home for the Elderly. It’s a nice little place just down the road from a funeral chapel, and my wonderful grandchildren come to visit me every so often so I don’t have much to complain of. The only thing I might find fault with is the persistence of all our caretakers to try and keep us inside. They take our shoes away whenever we’re not allowed to be out. So one day I found all this confinement a tad tiresome, and when I saw that someone had left the back door open I decided to take a walk. I found my old coat just where I had put it ten years ago when I first came there and put it and some slippers on (as they had hidden my shoes). The caretakers were busy helping a poor veteran who had just made a mess all over the floor, and didn’t see me, so I snuck out onto the sidewalk.

Silly stupid sadness

Please disregard all statements made in the previous post. It was unfortunately a very vain and self-pitying moment in my life. I hope all two or three of you out there will forgive me.
In other, less embarassing, news we've started reading Twelfth Night again. My mom, two of my bros, and I are reading the different parts aloud, and thus being about as steriotypically homeschoolerish as possible (don't worry though, we're not right-wingers or anything *shudders*).

Hey, you know what? The serialized story is BACK by POPULAR demand! Oh my goodness! So yeah, here goes...

Feeling a little... nonexistant

It does not do credit to my personality, but to some extent my capricious emotions are difficult to control. It's moments like this that I'm astounded at my own hypocrasy. Do I not feel happy and superior on my little island of pretentious intelligence? Perhaps not. Curse you, John Donne. Why did you have to be so correct? So now I will float down to my isolated substance abuse... literary substance abuse. To Camelot, medieval China, and seventeenth century France will I escape. The dream is too fantastic to be a reality, so it is that which I seek.

This is SO cool

http://bluepyramid.org/ia/cquiz.htm

¡Soy Mexico!

A poem, wow.

Ave Eva, by Mr. Brilliant.

I wish I could but reach that apple there.
Its surface shines so temptingly.
Will I get it? No. I shouldn’t dare.
My father’d angry with me be.

But look, that one climbs slowly up the trunk.
He’ll get my apple now I hope.
He nips the stem and down it comes to plunk
At my bare feet, so in the grass I grope.

I have it now. Oh, marv’lous ecstasy!
The wondrous orb lies in my hand.
But soft, I hear Him coming to the tree.
Now I’ll away, and show it to the man.

Funny Idears

What if there were a poet who wrote one-word poems? He'd be some sort of ultra-modern literary revolutionary. I can think of a one-worder already: "Yes." it's uplifting ain't it? and he could also do a humanitarianism one: "Injustice!", an egocentric one: "Me." Oh, and a philosophical one: "Why?"

I watched Dr. Zhivago last night. So SAD! It's now my second favorite "Dr." movie, alongside Dr. Strangelove. But man, everything worked together to try and make me burst into uncontrolled hysterical miserable weeping, which it very nearly did. I got to the point that Yuri gets to so often in the film, just kind of standing there, while the ocular resevoires fill with salt water. Good movie I must say, I'm somewhat glad I'm able to appreciate other films after a diet of William Holden, Richard Attenborough, etc. war flicks.

Prince Harry is a Fascist

Venn der Fuhrer says vee is der master race, vee heil! Heil! Right in der Fuhrer's face. Not to love der Fuhrer is a great disgrace so vee heil! Heil! Right in der Fuhrer's face!
Iz dis Nutzi land so goot? Vould you leef it if you could? Ja, dis Nutzi land iz goot! We wound't-a leave it if-a we could.

Shame on you Harry. Henceforth you shall be known as Prince Heinrich von Hanover! which is your true family name.

Never forget.