“I tell young people asking for career advice to go into tattoo removal. It’s going to be huge in a few years. Sure it’s unsexy — about as interesting as doing IT, or being an accountant. But think of the lives you’ll be changing. Baristas doomed to a life of pushing the button on an automatic espresso machine will have a shot at corporate. Skateboard punks will become senators. Losers stuck in Cleveland will establish themselves as losers in New York. And unlike drawing tats, erasing them has none of the stress of misspelling a Spanish word on the bicep of a Sureno gang banger. You’ll be like the mouse that removed the splinter from the lion’s paw in Aesop’s Fable, to that grateful banger. The only downside will be listening to the screams when you remove tats from certain sensitive areas. I have an epigram on this: “You can’t drop a tattoo off at the thrift shop when it goes out of style.”—Michael Lipsey
He died in a tree from which he wouldn’t come down. “Come down!” they cried to him. “Come down! Come down!” Silence filled the night, and the night filled the silence, while they waited for Kafka to speak. “I can’t,” he finally said, with a note of wistfulness. “Why?” they cried….
It has progressed past the point at which you panic and realise you’ve been silly and you should really get your head down in order to scrape an acceptable amount of marks. I’m past that. I’m at the point where I’m sitting here with my revision, with the full knowledge that I have two exams tomorrow, and just not registering. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s like I physically cannot bring myself to revise, as though I’ve convinced myself that there isn’t really an exam tomorrow. There is.
This is it, I’ve accepted my fate of failing, and I am not worried about what my teachers will think, I don’t care for the inevitable dissapointment that will rain down on me from my family and friends. It’ll be like they expected me to pull it out the bag at the last minute, like I usually do. But this time, it’s just not going to happen. I am going to get terrible grades at the end of this.
I don’t really want to tell anyone what my grades are when it comes round to august.
I think a part of me expects that I will pull it out the bag at the last minute and I’ll be able to blag it like I usually do. I won’t. I’m going to sit in that exam hall and not have a fucking clue what to fill those empty pages with. Human biology might as well be a friggin German exam. Maybe RS will be ok?…..