There’s a dead bug in my drink (Welcome to Georgia)

April 14th, 2011 | by aristurtle
Posted In: Uncategorized

I never would have fancied myself a jet-setting young lad, unsure of what city I’d be living in 30 days from now. Over the last year, however, I’ve surprised myself with the places I’ve stayed. To name drop the biggest and in no particular order: Chicago, Seattle, Durango, and Atlanta. My favorite thus far has been Chicago. A big reason for this is the sheer number of friends of mine who call the Windy City their home. I also had the privilege of surviving one of the biggest blizzards in the city’s history, a story I will get to tell someone’s grandchildren.

Seattle was a disappointment. I heard it was supposed to be rainy, and it only sprinkled one day. Rain is my favorite weather. Next time maybe you can try a little harder, Seattle.

Durango had mountains and dried husks of trees, but no water.

I’m writing this from my room in Atlanta. My generous aunt and uncle have put me up for a bit while I continue my job search and travels. It is beginning to turn summer here, or maybe it has been for a while. The temperatures are flirting with 80 Fahrenheit, about 30 degrees more than I am used to. As a side note, I am allowed to use prepositions at the end of sentences because of artistic license. Drink water, keep active, stay positive, make good decisions. Also their cat is having the time of her life with someone as doting as me hanging around all day.

In my free time I am teaching myself to use 3d Coat software, code HTML and mastering the art of pen spinning while watching C-SPAN.

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There’s a dead bug in my drink (Welcome to Georgia)

April 14th, 2011 | by aristurtle
Posted In: Uncategorized

I never would have fancied myself a jet-setting young lad, unsure of what city I’d be living in 30 days from now. Over the last year, however, I’ve surprised myself with the places I’ve stayed. To name drop the biggest and in no particular order: Chicago, Seattle, Durango, and Atlanta. My favorite thus far has been Chicago. A big reason for this is the sheer number of friends of mine who call the Windy City their home. I also had the privilege of surviving one of the biggest blizzards in the city’s history, a story I will get to tell someone’s grandchildren.

Seattle was a disappointment. I heard it was supposed to be rainy, and it only sprinkled one day. Rain is my favorite weather. Next time maybe you can try a little harder, Seattle.

Durango had mountains and dried husks of trees, but no water.

I’m writing this from my room in Atlanta. My generous aunt and uncle have put me up for a bit while I continue my job search and travels. It is beginning to turn summer here, or maybe it has been for a while. The temperatures are flirting with 80 Fahrenheit, about 30 degrees more than I am used to. As a side note, I am allowed to use prepositions at the end of sentences because of artistic license. Drink water, keep active, stay positive, make good decisions. Also their cat is having the time of her life with someone as doting as me hanging around all day.

In my free time I am teaching myself to use 3d Coat software, code HTML and mastering the art of pen spinning while watching C-SPAN.

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Paul is Sick, by Ian Bowden

November 8th, 2010 | by aristurtle
Posted In: Uncategorized

A metaphorical school as the final bell rings signaling the beginning of summer, Paul’s body churned out its contents at an astonishing rate. The students pouring from every exit, he was having difficulty determining the bodily orientation that would best serve his needs. Unfortunately for him, the salmonella would linger, the children whose rides would not be coming to pick them up until after work. It would be hours before the antibodies would begin to slaughter these children in earnest, which is where the analogy really breaks down.

What had made him so sick? He couldn’t stand to think about it. It was probably the shrimp. The thought of the shrimp made him want to vomit.

Paul threw up for the sixth time that night. It was definitely the shrimp. Or the scallops. But the scallops had seemed cooked to perfection. The thought of the scallops also made him want to vomit. His mother had always said Paul had a sharp mind; he put it to good use, quickly hoping that scallops would not be ruined forever just before his body was wracked by dry heaves.

The sick 23 year old found a happy balance between orifices and receptacles. The word happy is used lightly here, because this was the second worst night of his life. The first place for that miserable trophy belonged to another night on which he had food poisoning, but had also stubbed his toe. However, tonight was rapidly catching up.

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