User:Willkempfer

bio
"Are you here for the free chili?"

"No" I replied. "However, I wouldn't mind a glass of liquid sustenance and perhaps a glance or two at a clock."

"Okay, don't touch any of the furniture and you can come in."

So I stepped inside and immediately wondered why I couldn't molest the furniture. Everything was covered with plastic sheets. I slid two pence in the jukebox which awakened a lively tune before pausing to acutely accuse me of stealing the tea that sat on the coffee table.

"Surely I wouldn't pilfer a spot of tea whilst I have a fistful of rhubarb."

We collapsed upon the laughter and sat in contemplative tenacity for a couple centuries.

That's how I was admitted into this life.

midterm
 Misology: 

"I toiled about the Sculpture Park in search of a single piece that would inspire a glint of disdain. I studiously observed each piece of twisted metal and stone. Walking and pondering in attempt to feel that pin prick of agitation. It was a beautiful day of ray upon ray glinting off the water when there it sat; daunting, steeping in its gaudy poise."

"The foul artifact before me was none other than the Pier 70 building. After the first reflection in my cornea, each refraction caused an exponentially climbing tick of rage to besiege me. Never in my life has the sight of a building caused such a rush of frustration. What a vile perversion of art. In my blind fit of rage, I uppercut punched a gentile child in a derby hat. Slowly, I regained my composure, dusted my pantaloons and donned my newly acquired hat. I left that place on fire and I never went back."

"I made retreat to my isolation booth above the popcorn insulator. I flipped a coin into the jukebox and adjusted my stature in light of the jaunty tune. As I moonwalked to the refrigerator I considered that the designer of the building may have been suffering from dementia, but perished the thought. It was too well orchestrated to have been the sketches of a madman. Perhaps he just hates humanity and wanted to illustrate that in a larger than life fashion that would outlive their phlegm-muffled rants. That could be possible. As quickly as I began pondering I perished the thought. This person loved what they created. The sick kind of love that makes puppies and lollipops vomit in rage. With this newly gained perspective, I made haste to the computation station."

"As I extracted my inquiry I had to convert its form and thusly formed a cube. Perfect in every dimension with possible exception of the seventh, but who cares for that diatribe? Certainly not I. The end was nigh. I tapped and struck the keys in proper caravans of electronic impulses and sat with a wondrous, beguiled stare. Tearing through page after page of text I scraped for table scraps. I found the secrets of its horrible disco-laden past, but could find no one to attribute the blame for its modern aesthetic."

"As I sat beneath the swinging light bulb and in the haze of neon cast shadows from across the street, I kicked my feet, landing them squarely propped on my desk. My posture will take a vacation and I slid my hat enough to cover my eyes. Astutely as could be, my subconscious spit a name right in my eye. It was only midnight. The name: Hansen Malloy. They used to call him ‘Right’ Hansen Malloy. Apparently this small time grifter used to be an architect. The biggest part of me didn’t want to believe it. I had to shake this crook down myself to get to the bottom of this pit." "Pulling my Studebaker around the Benson & Jinks café I immediately spotted the all too conspicuous car that heralded Malloy’s presence. A Duesenberg parked like any other car in the lot; a true sign of ill gotten gains. It took a few shakes, but the tree dropped some fruit. Through the blubbering I could tell. It was the same man. He done well for himself, but it was easy to tell it wasn’t his first choice. Sure it’s some sap, but a part of me can’t help but feel for the mug." "Albeit what I’ve found, I still couldn’t be fazed. The cards have been called and the shots were down. The building was too much for me to bear. Time to get back to that third story brick box and get some shut eye."

reflective assessment
The experiences I’ve accumulated during my brief occupancy of this class have led me to some insightful cues as to where I would like to grow from this point. I had always known that I enjoy stretching the boundaries of a given assignment, but have recently realized that writing oddities is something I would like to pursue as a profession. It was so obviously in plain sight that I was blind to it until this point.  Everything I submitted for the class, I was at least mildly satisfied with. I can’t say that I had any effect on the experience of my fellow classmates due to how little I interacted with them (which was just fine to me). I had always felt that this degree I’m working towards would lend itself to be a fall-back career and something to make decent wages in the mean time and now that thought is more solidified than it has ever been. In the history of my school education this class has been by far the most interesting and enlightening. Due to that as well as assignments that ‘jived’ well with my ego I was able to maintain a lower lever of apathy than what I usually hold. I feel that I’ve accomplished something at the finale which is a feeling I rarely get in school. I am sufficiently satisfied with this outcome.  On that note I would like to close with a quote by Friedrich Nietzsche that I find to be quite fitting in this instance "A pair of powerful spectacles has sometimes sufficed to cure a person in love."