Papers never come easy. If my teachers only knew the creativity in my writing was from Saturday nights 87.3 midnight LP run and a little help from what my friends like to call post-its. The worlds those two paint seems never ending.
I don’t know how my teacher can accept this kind of work. Sure everything makes sense then as words drip off my fingertips. And that’s not me trying to say it’s easy. One time I watched the words as they fell onto my keyboard. When they played Hello Goodbye I was praised on “my insightful satire into happy Sun shine hippie beatniks.” I barely had time to fix spelling and the larger of the grammatical errors.
It’s going to start in about an hour; time to get ready. Can’t forget the speakers. Bose sound reducing headphones really work. Outside antics, even the party down the hall, can’t penetrate these bad boys. God I’m tired of all this writing. I’ll be happy when it’s all over. I must be 30 minutes in; things are starting to get strange. Hungry, I should eat one of those frozen burritos. I wonder what they’re going to play tonight.
“And here we are tonight. We’re going back to the early 90’s. Our man of the hour helped lead the grunge scene from the garage to the stage.”
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