textfiles/magazines/WHATEVER/schrn1.txt

-- Saccharine Journal --

     December 1994


all hatemail: (swain@enigma.rider.edu)                          



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Stoned stupid rantings and ravings from a stupid generation.
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Do you also have the addiction to write totally useless things for
the purpose of watching your fingers move?  Lets not tread on such
things.. But to tread on:

A week of dreams...

Day (1): Stuck under a subway car (the orange line in Boston). 
Witnessing my body slowly come apart on the tracks.  The one worry
was that I would lose consciousness when my head got crushed.

Day (2): While asleep, but awake (ie: I was lucid) I watched the
doctor insert an IV into my arm.  The plastic sack was full of
thick coffee the consistency of mud.  I knew that would wake me so
I disconnected the IV and made the doctor disappear.

Day (3): I was walking through town and two girls asked me who I
was.  I didn't respond and they followed me.  A cop drove by and
subsequently arrested me for an outstanding traffic warrant.

Day (4): another lucid dream.  I was walking around the house
thinking I should go outside for a change.  Instead I went to bed.

Day (5): Poison Ivy in my mouth.  Enough said.  As this dream
manifested I woke up and started anew.

Day (6): On the Greyhound headed for Truckee, Nevada.  An old drunk
man was sitting next to me drinking whiskey out of a Gatorade
squeeze bottle.  Made me think this guy was pretty much washed up
so I kicked the glass out of the window next to him and threw him
out.  I recall being amazed that I could actually lift him.  He
fell into the snow and began walking the opposite direction.

Day (7): Sitting on the front porch watching the snow fall.  I
wondered how many people were crying into their beer at the popular
watering hole in town.




Random Philosophy for Schoolchildren and other Malcontents..
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Ever get that feeling that the older you get the more disconnected
you become from those younger than you?  I wondered if this was
because of a general non-interest in associating with things you've
already done.  But for some reason people older than you are still
considered uncharted territory.  This makes sense...

Game-Players are everywhere and really, what can you do about it? 
Its these games that make you feel older than you are.  The best
way to avoid game-playing is to not play the game.

Its not what you read, but how you read it.  There is a time and
place for everything.  So as glamorous as most things aren't, there
is always a payoff.

The 1990's signify the decade of psychosis.  If you can't mold
yourself into a specific image, you end up being yourself. 
Wouldn't want that, would we?

Overanalysis of situation tends to fuel insanity.  All things
should be taken with a pound of salt.

Everyone that you meet will teach you something you didn't already
know.  Respect that.

Religion is a sobering fact.  I recommend drinking more.

For all those that get stuck in trees:  Who says you're stuck? 
Maybe you want to be there.

Most of you have parents that dictate your future.  Or possibly,
have already forced you to lean in a certain direction.  Question
your parents, they could be wrong.

Adult:  You want to be a doctor.
You: No I don't.
Adult: Yes, you do.
You: (thinking) Yeah, you're right.
 
Moral: Respect your elders, but don't believe them.

Stoned thought:  If those squirrels outside were Big Brother, we'd
be in deep shit.

Distressing Fact:  Woodstock '94 was the beginning of a major
decline in civilization.  Turn off your TV now and run away.  I'll
call you when things are all clear.

For those who can't settle for a lame relationship: 

Egg Nog

1 dozen eggs, separated
2 cups sugar
4 cups heavy cream
4 cups milk
2 cups bourbon
1/2 cup rum

Beat egg yolks with sugar until creamy.  Add cream, milk,
bourbon, and rum and mix well.  Beat egg whites until stiff peaks
form and fold into mixture.  Sprinkle with nutmeg.

Drink healthy amounts of Egg Nog and say "I love you."  It might
not work, but the Egg Nog was fucking good, wasn't it?

Better than wishing on a shooting star:  The first snowball from
the first snowfall.  This is an important snowball, do not use
hastily.  This should be thrown at an unsuspecting girl (or guy) of
your choosing.  By doing this the girl (or guy) that you "peg" will
instantly fall in love with you.  The initial *sting* might throw
them off kilter, but don't worry, it works.

People that stare at their shoes aren't necessarily losers.

Traditions of this damn town:
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First snowfall:  Everyone in the university takes their clothes off
and runs around in pandemonium.  Entitled the "Nude Olympics" this
is the only time of year that anything really interesting happens. 
The cops have gone so far as to arrest anyone who partakes in this
event.  This occurrence usually leads to other strange happenings.

The "clapper" in the Princeton University Bell Tower.  Rumor has it
that the "soon to be" seniors scale the building and steal the
"clapper" which rings the bell.  This signifies something, but I'm
not sure what.  Usually someone gets hurt.

Reunions:  Historically this is when the alumni of the school come
and meet up with other people of their ilk.  The whole university
is sectioned off by "class" and inside these fences people get
wasted and listen to music of their day.  However, for the last ten
or so years this meant for the people of Princeton (teenagers, pre-
teenagers, and olderfolk) a means to party hard and get drunk for
free.  Every year the university tries to keep the "townies" from
partaking in this event, but they always seem to get in.  This
three-day party is consistently great for "townies" to meet cool
people from all over the country.

First snowfall ride:  Not necessarily a tradition, but worth
noticing.  Every mountain-biker, miscreant, and thrill-seeker is
invited.  This usually entails a group of people meeting in front
of one of the two bike shops in town and embarking on an agressive
assault of the Princeton terrain.  Including, but not limited to
the golf course, the university sidewalks, the Institute for
Advanced Study woods, and for the daring, the Herrontown woods. 
All those in fear of frostbite need not attend.

Unknown reason (but still cool):  Miscellaneous students (usually
during the Reunion period) roast a pig and take the head to the
Woodrow Wilson fountain, which is a huge square water-filled pool
with a remarkably sharp and pointless sculpture in the middle.  The
students proceed to climb the structure and impale head on top of
it.

Spring Fling:  Stupid town way of announcing spring.

The Fete:  A huge party in a soccer field.  Sort of a small version
of a flea market combined with an amusement park.  Sometimes fun.


Three ways to meet a girl
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1) Hi, my name is (your name here).
2) Hi, whats your name?
3) Where'd you get those pants?

Three ways to meet a guy
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1) Hi, my name is (your name here).
2) Hi, whats your name?
3) Where'd you get those pants?

Three ways to destroy your social life:
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1) Get an Internet account.
2) Become a writer.
3) Get two Internet accounts.

Three ways to avoid bullshit conversation:
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1) Get up an leave.
2) Think of something good to say.
3) Stop talking to people.

Three ways to make friends:
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1) Leave your house.
2) Be friendly.
3) Write big checks.


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-- Saccharine Journal -- swain@enigma.rider.edu
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