Unfinished

Here's a bunch of stuff that I've stopped and started. Once I stop working on something that usually means that it goes uncompleted, so I figured I'd just put them out as is.

"Scraps from Childhood"

I really hate it when people whore out the figures from my past to sell me things.

---

Untitled

First period, Graphics class, my senior year of high school:

"I've only read one book in my entire life."
"Oh yeah, which one?"
"Catcher in the Rye. I just do the same book report over and over again in different classes."

My parents had to physically take books away from me as a little kid so I'd do my homework.

---

"Well Oiled Living"

Only halfway through class. Jesus, over forty minutes left. The minute hand on the clock creeps forward with a sadistic slowness, each time I look back the interval between where it was when I last checked and where it is now diminishes. Twenty minutes here, fifteen, ten, five.
Why am I here?
One of my professors always asks us after an assigned reading, "So, was this worth your while? Was the time you spent reading, that hour or so you'll never get back, a valuable expenditure of your life?" What a poisonous question to ask; now I'm asking myself that question about everything. I'm finding that, for the most part, none of this damn work I'm doing in this particular class is worth spending my time on.

"Ok folks, I'll see you on Thursday!"
That's questionable, actually. I'm calling it a two to one shot I skip this class completely.

I walk out the door, using the same stairwell as always. A song --one of the three or four cycling through my head all day-- starts up again. I time the beats with my footsteps. Right, left, right, left, one, two, three, four. I get particularly ADD about timing my footsteps and the music when walking up and down stairs. The fourth beat must fall on the landing of a staircase when heading up stairs, on the last step of a staircase when heading down. The second beat is acceptable to finish a staircase with, although the first or third beat leaves me feeling awkward.

The timing of beats, of course, necessitates memorizing whether a staircase has an odd or even number of stairs. I take the same path every day: Williams' staircases, even; between Textor and Campus Center, odd; the circular staircase from the Handwerker to the library, even; the stairs in the library, odd.

---

Untitled

"HI! I've seen you around somewhere before."
I have no idea who this person is. Hold on, maybe I do. We had a class together once, almost two years ago now. Didn't recognize her with the glasses.
She is too close. I back up, trying to ease the nervous, clenched feeling in my stomach; she steps forward. From this distance I can smell the Keystone on her breath. It reminds me of Freshman year a little bit. Apparently we have another class this year, Jewish and Christian Interpretations of the Bible. We talk about the Documentary Hypothesis and Mosaic Authorship, midrashic exegesis, the merits and demerits of our professor.
...
"I have a question for you, Andy Frah."
She's now sprawled out on the couch. She sort of had my last name right in the beginning of the night, but after several rounds of beer pong her pronunciation got progressively sloppier.
"What?"
"Do you like girls, Andy Frah?"
Hazy thoughts collect themselves for a second,
"Yes."
"Do you have a girlfriend, Andy Frah?"
The question had been sitting on her tongue ever since she introduced herself, it was only a matter of when she was going to ask it. She is a sweaty, drunken mess. I contemplate how best to answer this.