Costume Week
Kudos to my suitemates on their choice of costumes. I could not have written more accurate representations of each of you than you have written for yourselves.
The only thing that ever stood between Chaz and being a salty seaman was the distance between himself and the closest shore, plus the distance of the dock. He's about 5'11", unkempt, grimy, his hands and face smell of fish and, as he said, he already had all the clothing items necessary for his sailor "costume" to become a reality. I guess I'm the only one with the heart to say it--if you had all the clothes beforehand, it isn't a costume.
As our audience, you may not know that Alan is a hopeless loser. If you didn't know, I shall remind you that "Video Game Week" was his idea, and that he responded with such geeky fervor that I, inadvertedly, spoke through my nose for nearly an hour after reading his post. So we have a Nintendo freak who wants nothing more than to relive his childhood by being Link for Halloween, but it doesn't end there. No, Alan is what we call a dreamer; he sits on his ass, fanning away a conspicuous cloud of smoke, and thinks of all the "cool shit" he could do. Does he get off his ass and hunt for a costume? Not unless his dealer is selling apparal.
And, finally, Vladimir--the ultimate space-case. When I was 11, I convinced myself that I was from another planet; I could find no other explanation for the vast differences between myself and everyone else I knew or had ever heard of. In High School, when I learned the various theories of superior and inferior forms of humanity, my convictions shifted slightly, though I retained a certain nostalgic insistance that I was not of this world...until I met dear Vladimir. You might be thinking that cultural differences are often stark, sometimes bizarre, and that many of Vlad's eccentricities might be easily accounted for by a close examination of Russian history and cultural practices; you would be right, though not entirely. It's not that Vlad did not come from another planet; it is, simply, that he went to Russia first.
But enough debasement. I have assembled a costume which does all that a good costume should: it is recognizable by most, and not easily confused with anything else (eg. Link with Peter Pan or Robin Hood); it requires no great physical alterations, though it is not something that the sight of me is likely to evoke (unlike Chaz and his seaman's look); and it is a character only tangentially connected to me (Vlad's whole life is beyond the stratosphere, so why be surprised that his costume is, too?).
Behold:
Schroeder.
That is all.
The only thing that ever stood between Chaz and being a salty seaman was the distance between himself and the closest shore, plus the distance of the dock. He's about 5'11", unkempt, grimy, his hands and face smell of fish and, as he said, he already had all the clothing items necessary for his sailor "costume" to become a reality. I guess I'm the only one with the heart to say it--if you had all the clothes beforehand, it isn't a costume.
As our audience, you may not know that Alan is a hopeless loser. If you didn't know, I shall remind you that "Video Game Week" was his idea, and that he responded with such geeky fervor that I, inadvertedly, spoke through my nose for nearly an hour after reading his post. So we have a Nintendo freak who wants nothing more than to relive his childhood by being Link for Halloween, but it doesn't end there. No, Alan is what we call a dreamer; he sits on his ass, fanning away a conspicuous cloud of smoke, and thinks of all the "cool shit" he could do. Does he get off his ass and hunt for a costume? Not unless his dealer is selling apparal.
And, finally, Vladimir--the ultimate space-case. When I was 11, I convinced myself that I was from another planet; I could find no other explanation for the vast differences between myself and everyone else I knew or had ever heard of. In High School, when I learned the various theories of superior and inferior forms of humanity, my convictions shifted slightly, though I retained a certain nostalgic insistance that I was not of this world...until I met dear Vladimir. You might be thinking that cultural differences are often stark, sometimes bizarre, and that many of Vlad's eccentricities might be easily accounted for by a close examination of Russian history and cultural practices; you would be right, though not entirely. It's not that Vlad did not come from another planet; it is, simply, that he went to Russia first.
But enough debasement. I have assembled a costume which does all that a good costume should: it is recognizable by most, and not easily confused with anything else (eg. Link with Peter Pan or Robin Hood); it requires no great physical alterations, though it is not something that the sight of me is likely to evoke (unlike Chaz and his seaman's look); and it is a character only tangentially connected to me (Vlad's whole life is beyond the stratosphere, so why be surprised that his costume is, too?).
Behold:
Schroeder.
That is all.
posted by Alfonzo Debussy | 5:15 PM
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