Spring

I realized something just now. I hate spring-- the season. Not because the oak trees are going to pollen and it's hay fever time. Although, that is a source of particular disdain.

Allow me to offer a song:

Layne Staley was extremely talented when he wasn't strung out on heroin. Anyways, there is a lyric in this song that goes:

"Into the flood again/same old trip it was back then."

I used the phrase "Into the Flood" as the title for the first actual novel I ever completed. The story was about a group of anthropology graduate students who discover a tribe in South America. This tribe possess a powerful hallucinogenic substance which is brewed from two very rare and endangered plants.
 

I later found out that this substance already exists-- fantastic. And then of course, Into the Wild became a movie and my catchy rock-and-roll reference title didn't feel so original anymore.

So I ditched the novel and moved on to other things.

But anyway, when I was writing the thing, I needed a cool sounding street name for the drug because it was just starting to get popular and there were these kids in Europe who were trying it and going on all these weird mental adventures. It was terrible. I decided to name the drug "Spring" because I figured one of the plants used to make the concoction would have been found growing near a spring with a very unique chemical compound in the water...

This is all rather ridiculous and besides the point. The word "spring" now carries the burden of that novel for me. It's not the reason I hate spring but it's one of those little things that just kind of pecks in on the surface of my face--like oak pollen. 

Enter this:

I've heard about it but I've never actually heard it. I've been listening to a lot of music lately. 

This brings me to why I hate spring. 

We're fucking animals. We're supposed to be outside, rolling around in that/\shit. Being cooped up, doing work, pushing papers, reading other people's thoughts, stressing out...this is not natural. Winter takes it's toll on the human being. We're supposed to get out and go crazy in spring--bloat up on nuts and berries and salmon and go around making other little humans. 

Not gaze vacuously at a computer screen for eight to twelve hours a day.

It's such a shame that spring is the time of year when school really gets cracking. Whenever I steal away from the concrete nook where I do my homework, I peek through my blinds like a convict, conspiratorially watching the normal day-goers passing back-and-forth by my windows. 

I hate the person that school makes me. I am remembering now why I dropped out originally. 

Not saying I ever would again. I have goals this time.

But anyways, this ramble has gone on long enough. These strange little rants are amusing to me but not worth much in the long run. I suppose it's always good to write.

Now fall--that's a different story altogether