it's like shopping for free & W1L 008: Write one leaf about your favorite cartoon.

Lest I destroy any desire my 2.5 readers might still have to remain subscribed to this blog, I will preface this embarrassingly bad Write One Leaf response with an outfit I rather liked.

I wore this to meet up with Christine, a stats grad student at Cal, because she emailed me to tell me she had a bag of clothes she was trying to get rid of, would I like to take it off her hands? IT WAS GLORIOUS because every single piece she gave me fits, and I think she just singlehandedly grew my wardrobe by 120%.

CHRISTINE, IF YOU ARE READING THIS, thank you SO much. You are really cute and easy to talk to and so unusually, gratifyingly generous, with your possessions and time and openness.

Above, army green cable-knit sweater: uncle's. T-shirt underneath: Cal Student Store. Floral slip: secondhand. Tights: from Korea, gift from my brother. Black and white saddle shoes: Payless.

W1L 008: Write one leaf about your favorite cartoon.

This is really awful, probably because I am just writing to fill a page, but it could be worse, because I could leave the page blank and call it modern, like that guy who composed a piece that was like two minutes of silence (or some amount of time more artful-sounding). Anway.

Episode 36 of Rocko’s Modern Life is entitled “Wacky Delly.” In it, a wallaby, turtle, and steer create a television show that is complete bullshit, similar to Jersey Shore, but with anthropomorphized deli products. Thus, a pickle could potentially have been a major character, whereas a human female with a hair pouf and an intense love for pickles could not have been. The show is wildly successful.

The turtle, Filburt, creates a character called The Cheese, which is superimposed walking across the screen at miscellaneous angles, repeating, “I am The Cheese. I am the best character on the show. I am better than both The Salami and The Bologna combined.”

Filburt’s Cheese character, like “Wacky Delly” itself, is blatantly self-referential, wherein lies half if not more or less of its humor.

Recursive code is also self-referential. I first learned about recursion in a computer science class where I met my favorite blonde of all time.

The previous sentence is a lie, because recursion is something everyone knows about and understands, but which people hardly ever stop to put into words that solidify their intuition into crystalline thought; recursion is not something one learns but rather something one learns to give a name.

That is to say, learning is remembering, as Plato put it.

I only mention this because I am currently taking a class with my computer science TA where we had to read Plato, and I decided to take the class because my computer science reader/grader suggested it, and why is this world so small?

In that class, we were instructed to introduce ourselves to the class with two truths and a lie. I told everyone that I am a Libra according to the old horoscopes and a Virgo according to the new ones; that I played a French maid in a play in high school; and that I run a blog called Hypsterism. (Thanks, Gordon.)

I’m not very good at lying, and if you are reading this, I prostrate myself at your feet, and you now know that I am a Libra who once played a French maid. I accidentally put on a German accent for the part, because I didn’t know how to sound French. Luckily, I am now a linguistics major with some understanding of accents and sound distribution, so I could play a French maid again at the drop of a hat.

Then again, maybe it would have been just as easy to do that if I’d continued doing theater in college, because I know I sometimes walk to class in a daze, thinking about how I may have fucked up the past three years beyond repair and my life trajectory is now so wildly off-course that I will never satisfy the angry birds, and the green pig things will just loll around their flimsy wooden structures and mock me and I will never get three stars Steven why must you constantly repeatedly remind me of how much I fail
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