The Birth of Tragedy

ALONE IN COOPER DINING HALL
pissing on everything that isn’t ESRB rated
as I look for a table to brood
by the window
until I get to section ten or eleven,
I see this real sad guy reading Plato
and he’s stuffing his face with fried chicken
and loathing the existence of Socrates
over dinner with two dopey lackeys.
So my nose slips off my face,
my fingers start to stink,
and my heart might stop completely,
but what I’ve got is freedom
from that exhausted latin tyranny.
At home: I pull a textbook from my shelf,
a pink and blue one,
then another, and another, and realize that
each of these stupidly expensive tomes
are textbooks
for the kinetic and weak.
My essay: paraphrase Cliff Huxtable telling
his wife about
how the children fought him
for years because of
an unconscious desire to own the
house. Flashback a hundred
and twenty years to poor Nietzsche
reading the dialogues
and skimming over Euripides and
constantly wracking
his teen brain, gnashing his teeth over two
thousand year old land deeds.
What would a Deku Scrub give you
for that kind of real estate?
Which sitcom informs me of this?
Is it Three’s Company?

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3 comments
  1. thanks for the like on my blog: emberindelicato.wordpress.com! I’ve read over some of your recent posts, and you are excellent! I’m a gamer, too! (I’ll post about it sometime soon) Keep up your awesome work!

  2. Thanks for the follow and the like 😀 I’m still reading your stuff, this is my favorite so far 😉

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