Angry.

Five things you, generic you, although of course this comes out of a specific situation, should know about me.

1) You are completely free to look at a piece of art and give the following commentary: Wow. Fuck. Mad. Totally mad. Fuck. Fuck, man. And I? Am equally free to give the following commentary: Haha, ok, groovy eyeballs, I like the gel pen stuff, but objectifying women, borrowing liberally from Dali and CD covers? Yawn.
That's right, you hypocrite, my commentary is as valid as yours. You do not get to complain that I don't 'get it', or say in a condescending manner 'that's what you think'.

2) Art isn't sacred, and I will laugh at you for being overdefensive of your friend (if I'm correct)'s work.

3) Your friend, against whom, despite your apparent opinion, I have nothing.

4) You do not get to be the same person who tries to be sarcastic about my discussing the syllabus and who tells me to 'relax' when I react to your arrogance. You are not entitled to that multitudinousness. You make Walt Whitman cry. That's not wise of you.

5) You and a lot of your peers are stuck in a time warp and it's narrow and symptomatic of this mind-numbingly cool West Bengal college culture scene. I won't say 'grow up', I'll say 'get a fucking move on already'.


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Ugh. What else. Christmas? Bahumbug. Shoot yourself and pull the other one, brothers and sisters of the revolushun.