April: Now is the Winter of Our Discontent
Published April 17, 2007
By Kurt Weiss
T.S. Eliot once wrote that “April is the cruelest month,” and I couldn’t agree more with that fucking guy.
Right now, my bank account is low, the weather is shit, and all the work I put off all semester is apparently due within a day or two of tomorrow.
My refrigerator, usually full of meats and organic vegetables from around the world, is now sparsely stocked with frozen vegetable sides and chicken nuggets. Not to say I can’t combine the two for a delightful dinner, but standards have fallen. Morale is low.
The weather is really the problem. There was a moment back in March when the weather seemed to encourage sandals, shorts, and most importantly, skirts.
The sun came out. Immediately, girls put away their always-too-long scarves and hung up their ubiquitous North Face down jackets to reveal the awe-inspiring entity that is cleavage.
This was my reason to get up in the morning. It was my reason to go to class. It was my reason to go to the library and maybe even do work. It was my reason to feel good about the world. And then it was gone. Now, I’ve got nothing else going for me.
Signing up for classes provided a rare opportunity to project beyond the looming doom of deadlines and exams. But that rush of hope lasted about as long as a glue-sniffing high.
Though I could see in the computer a glimpse of my life months from now, the cold reality remained that it was snowing in April, my procrastinations had hit the wall of necessary action, and every girl on campus was still covered up in loose fitting fleece and wool.
At this point, I see my only option for survival as a rigorous routine of porn, vodka, and Adderall (I am a legal drinker and I am prescribed Adderall…maybe). This weather provides no room for the release of tensions brought on by the close of the academic year.
There are no boobs, there are no barbeques. My Wiffle ball is still buried under inches of snow. North Beach has become a legendary myth whose stories are passed down to freshman as reminders of the “good old days.”
I mean when was the last time in April anyone you knew caught “that thing that’s going around?”
Yet again, Kurt Weiss has catalogued for us his hormone-driven interior dialogue. He consistently writes like four-year-old with a high schooler’s torrid imagination and unfulfilled fantasies.
So far we can gather that Kurt dedicates most of his time to the contemplation of breasts, sex, and bodily functions. Really original for a hetero male. Thanks for the honesty, Kurt.
- The Water Tower Staff
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