Shelter from the Storm: Playing Scrabble

Joe is rewriting all his old Xanga posts from 2005 onward, and it's giving him the howling fantods.

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October 5, 2005, 4:55 PM

I am not bashful about my desire to emulate the style of my heroes. I love Bob Dylan's music, but part of my admiration is the fact that the man looks fucking cool. There's nothing wrong with that. He looks cool; I want to look cool too. So why not take very small steps to look a little bit more like Bob Dylan? I'm not saying I'm going to be so pathetic as to copy his entire wardrobe. But I think wearing sunglasses in the same way that Dylan wore sunglasses in the '60s is an extremely reasonable step in my quest to be "cool" (with "cool" in quotes as an acknowledgement that I will never actually be cool).

Tell me what you think. Do these look the same? Would wearing these glasses make me even 1% cooler (again, acknowledging that 1% of zero is still zero)?

on amazon

on bob dylan's face

Are these close enough? Should I buy them? I am, for whatever reason, using my Xanga to crowdsource opinions about my appearance. So let's lean into it. Comment below. What do you think?!?!

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Comments:

MadeFromRecycledPaper: You are just too damned sexy, Joseph.

Too damned sexy.

JFingers88: The silver thingys on the dge of the frames are vertical for Bob, but horizontal on amazon.

Anonymous: They're pretty close; Bob's sunglasses are so cool. I have some Dylanesque sunglasses.

VinylVixen89: Pretty damn close. I say get them.

VinylVixen89: It would be bitchin' to hang out with you if you (a. didn't have mono and (b. was still in the play

one_orange_sock: hey joe i love you!it was a friendly slap.

Stouoffe: i dont think you were capable of seeing anything coming...

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October 7, 2005, 11:42 PM

It's past 11 PM on a Friday night. I am restless. I had a great night, and I'm here on my Xanga to talk about it. 'Cause that's just how I do it, man. I arrive at the Xanga with lexical guns a'blazin', tryin' to start some commotion at a late hour. I am a teenager. My energy is boundless. I also have a bit of liquor still running through my veins, but we don't have to elaborate on that.

I mean, okay, I don't think I have to worry about any of La Salle's administration reading this Xanga. I'm so beyond caring about what parents (my own, and others') think about me or my life as it is presented here. Gone are the days when I needed to be concerned for whether my girlfriend's parents were going to let her hang out with me in scary Northeast Philadelphia because they were generally aware of my relatively modest imbibing habits. It's whatever, man. I'll keep it mostly in the shadows still, but you should know where I'm coming from, typing these words, on a Friday night, after just a couple drinks.

I played Scrabble before the game. That's code. You knew that already. After Scrabblin', I became what I choose to view as my true, honest self. This is the self that is outgoing, and witty, and attractive. I played the cowbell. This was attractive to women, who giggled at my exploits. The football team did well, and they will each get the girl in the end, but in that moment, I felt as popular as a handsome jock, even though I was just some mopey kid in the pep band. I felt alive. It was a good night.

As for tomorrow, we attempt to continue the party, this celebration of life as we know it in our youth. There are rumblings of a gathering in the exalted woods of Burholme Park. It will be a valiant return. I implore you to join me in the revelry.

I have some other loose notes to share with you, because why not.

I was taking care of business the other day in a half-clean stall at my place of education, and I noticed something that someone had hastily scribbled on the wall with permanent marker. It read: "Freshman Fuck Day — October 13th". This is the first and last I've ever heard of such a tradition at my high school, where boys will be boys but La Salle boys will be gentleman. Certainly it wouldn't be very gentlemanly to assault these poor innocent freshman for some made-up ritual as described in a bathroom stall? If you've heard anything about this, let me know, so I can be the good anthropologist I strive to be and document it for posterity.

Another tidbit from the rumor mill. I've been hearing some bullshit about a neighborhood fight between Rockledge and Abington. I live in Rockledge, and due to transportation funding, I take a bus with the rest of the Abington HS kids to their campus, where I catch another bus to my actual high school. So this is where I'm feeling the rumors out, in overheard mumblings from Rockledge kids who attend school with Abington kids. Who knows what's going on in the halls of that institution. I'll be sure to hide out with the rest of the private kid weirdos when the guns are drawn.

Finally, and most importantly, my least favorite class is cancelled for Monday. AP English. Well, okay, fine, I just don't like the teacher. That dude has blood on his teeth, and he's way too good at hiding it. I like pretty much everyone who's in that class with me. I fear that my friends don't see what I see, though. I fear that the jock who teaches us English is eventually going to shove us all in the lockers, even if they end up being figurative lockers and not literal ones. Anyways, none of that on Monday, so I'm celebrating hard this weekend due to that break, among other things.

It is time for sleep. Goodnight.

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Comments:

JFingers88: Joe K***, you are a dance monster. Shawn the cowbellist had a good view of the Soul cheerleaders from his perch almost directly above them.

JoeMac_89: You actually remember last night?

anngi55: Whoa whoa Rockledge and Abington?  When the hell did that happen and why did I not know?