Jan

31

Digitalia Columbiana

Written by

These excerpts were culled from documents left on Columbia’s lab computers. We encourage our readers to submit their own digitalia finds to us, via e-mail, at [email protected].


After working on global AIDS and tuberculosis (TB) in a developing country this past summer, I am convinced that I am interested in a consulting career.

 


In the second place, wiretapping by the government will not ensure U.S. citizens a free-terror zone. Terrorist are very resourceful; when one door closes for them the will find a window. In present day, terrorist have religious motives that would make them stop at nothing. In order to gain eternal glory they would not care the means to it. In addition, most of the terrorist are illiterate.

 


Sam’s friend KEITH is running up Washington Street, looking left and right. He sees something – shouts out: “Hey!” We pan fast to Sam who is leaning against a building, looking very distraught. Keith runs up to him – embraces him. “I heard Sam. I’m really sorry. I know you loved John Lennon.”
Sam starts crying. He explains that everything is fucked up – the whole fucking world. “It’s not so bad,” says Keith. Sam says things were bad enough but he went and made it worse by calling his first love and getting reminded once again of how it was all just fantasy.
“You called Louie?”
Sam nods. “He was a Beatle fan. We used to talk music all day and all night together.”
Keith looks at him skeptically.
“But he was straight, right?”
“I know. But I used to think maybe he was like John Lennon and I was like Stu Sutcliffe. You wouldn’t understand.”
“So you called him. What happened?”
“I got his mother.”


I felt claustrophobic. Ironic, that I was always dreaming of big, strong guys being this close. And then, there I was, and I wanted him, but I wanted him to be someone else, and I wanted him to give me an inch to breathe, but I wanted him to stay this close. I hopped off the counter, pushed by him and let the dog in.


Unfortunately in the middle of all of this I was diagnosed with psoriasis, which is simply irritating and not serious in the least, and had to return to Chicago for treatments etc since I was a bit of an extreme case and covered from head to toe. I considered staying in Chicago since I was having a great deal of trouble trying to find my niche in the ridiculously expensive city that is New York City but did not want to give up yet.


”I really didn’t like the reading, it made my mind wander off to other aspects of my life that seem to have no real order, and try to see if the absence of order is order. It pretty much just messed with my head though.

…Or maybe I wasn’t meant to find these things interesting due to the fact as a child I hated math because my brother and mother loved it, so I automatically write off anything mathematically related. Maybe the butterfly effect is true…and it’s just an extension of fate. Hmmm…something to ponder.”


“What makes you think—” I began to say, but he was already moving away down the bank, his buttocks shifting side to side, his arms flung wide for balance.

The river absorbed him soundlessly and I set off back the way I’d come, to the house where my mother and father were sleeping.

COYOTES!

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