By Nous

		      June 6, 2005


JUNE4 -- Tenemos Amor

5:04pm. I just got back from eating at Taqueria Del Sol, which
is pretty good. Quite a few of us went there after my cousin's
wedding because the reception wasn't till six. That was at 3:30
and now I wonder where the time has gone. My mother's asleep on
the couch in a bathrobe. Everyone has retired to their separate
quarters. Or is it HIS separate quarters? Or is it seperate.
It isn't seperate, that looks stupid.
Anyway, Kelly, Hailey and I were okay, I think. It seems that
there were unnecessary holdups and so we had to play our songs
over and over again. Hailey's fingers were shaking because she
hadn't taken some medicine she needed and her lips were really
tired because she had been in band camp all week. Kelly, mean-
while was trying to concentrate both on the songs and my mom,
who was signalling song changes for the different people coming
down the aisle.  And I was straight up rusty, although I think
I did okay. Kelly lauded my playing after the ceremony.
Now that it's over, I'm really glad I did it, and I think that
I need to do things like this more often.  I am too nervous a
guy and I should get over my anxiety.
I also forgot to turn my phone off when we started playing,
and so of course, as we're running through Rondeau, I feel
a vibration on my leg, but I can't hear the ringtone. Still,
I assume everyone else can hear it because Kelly is looking
right at me, so I put my violin down, reach into my pocket,
pull out my phone, and turn it off.
It turned out that it was Brit calling me, so I called her
back.  She didn't answer so I left her a message about how
she had called while I was playing. But her friend Ruben was
also at a wedding, so when she heard the message she was
confused as to what it was he was "playing."
Things like that could only be written by Larry David, as
this incident was.

JUNE5, 5:47pm -- OH, WHY?

My dad is working out of state, so next weekend we're off
to Iowa to visit him for about a week "or two." I quote my
mom there.
Two weeks in Iowa visiting my dad who will probably be
working every day except Sunday? That seems too long. Even
going out west to see the Grand Canyon and Hollywood and
snow seemed really long, and that was only a week. How am
I going to survive this?
My life is written by Judy Blume, by the way, not Larry
David.
Anyway, I'm also afraid of elevators, right? And we are
supposed to be staying on the top floor of this really
huge hotel.  How will Nous -- otherwise known as Nousy
the Mediocre -- react when forced to face his fear?
Lydia likes alliteration. Lydia loves Ludacris.

JUNE6, 10:37am -- YO, I MUST BE ILL

Die, rats. First of all, I don't have a girlfriend. And
that girl I took over to your house that one time was a
friend from high school, to elaborate.
Now we move to the second of all, which is always the
most boring of the "alls" and so I'm choosing to skip
over it. Nobody will mind and I will have saved time.
Third of all, which I've heard is the most ridiculous
of all the "alls" is the one on which I wish to focus.
And that's that Nous speaks kind of crazy sometimes. I
can't help it. I talk like I've got cotton on my tongue,
in my lungs, everywhere.
But today on this very special unbirthday I speak even
more WIRHRHRHS because I think I'm sort of sick. I was
getting a sore throat Friday night and it just stayed
with me till this Monday morning, though it's sort of
going away, I think WQHWHWHW. Oh, don't mind that. My
pet Guttural is kind of hyper today.
And the reason this is a very special unbirthday is
because Guttural and I have written a song for everyone
out there in Dreamland. So here it is.

	"It Seems These Deep Knife Wounds Are
	 Finally Scabbing Over"
		By: Nous and Guttural
	Sung to the tune of 'As Time Goes By'

The light keeps going out
The front door of my house
Does not close all the waaaaaay
I guess I used up all
My quarters at the mall
Their pizzas are okaaaaaaay
I used to think that Ethan Hawke
Was kind of gay

And when I pause to sneeze
My friends kick at my knees
They always pick on meeeee
Rock Hudson, as it turns out, was
Queer as can be

My books are overdue
I need to get some food
My car ran out of gaaaaas
The Coke I got was hot
The strawberries I bought
And planted never greeeeew
I wrote a letter to my mom
But she had moved

My place has no AC
My therapist is mean
My dog is getting ooooold
My pen ran out of ink
My change fell in the sink
And now it overfloooows
I learned to cook for all my friends
But no one showed

The days keep going by
On whom can I rely?
I often wonder whyyyyy
Nobody ever calls
Or visits me at all
I've come to realiiiiiiiize
The world will always welcome pain
As time goes by

Thank you.

Re-enacting The Civil War All By Himself Yours,
Nous