6 Pianet oF THE Arts / NOVEMBER 1995 1e ..continued from page 4 this in, and my heart was going, “oh my god, what the hell just happened?!?” It made no sense! I could see the tire lying on the ground not too far away, so it really didn’t make any sense. I just started screaming, “what the hell is goin’ on?!” I look around and this girl standing behind me is just looking at me and says, “I did it!” I said, “what do you mean ‘you did it’?” “I did it,” she repeated. It turns out she was looking for a chain for one of the sculptures she was working on, and she saw the bike leaning against some of the scrap metal, and thought a pretty nice mountain bike was scrap metal. She smashed the derailleurs off and sawed through the frame just to get my bike chain. I was really freaking out (not directing any of it at her of course), and being a non-smoker, I smoked about 4 cigarettes in 10 minutes. We sat down and tried to figure out why she did it, and she just didn’t know. She ended up paying for repairing the bike, and said that she realized she really screwed up. Horror So Immense It Cannot Be Comprehended By Mere Humanity (Josh Cohen, 2nd year Media) I was once busily working away when, out of nowhere, I was over- come by a feeling of horrific dismay. I realized that, rather than channeling my energy into con- structive tasks that would develop my skill and depth of understand- ing, I was procrastinating and squandering my time by writing irrelevant snippets on tangential topics only distantly related to my studies, and furthermore, that I was writing in a pompous and verbose manner certain to alienate any potential reader. Over the past few weeks, this inexplicable phan- tasm has repeatedly clenched my heart with its icy claws. I fear I shall go mad! Beware the Kitchen (Lulu, 3rd Year Painting) I came into the studio one day to find my sculpture smashed on the floor with a note beside it laying blame on myself for the broken piece, and further denying respon- sibility by not signing their name. I told my instructor who shrugged his shoulders, disinterested. Let me tell you, don’t fuck with the yentas in the kitchen; you'll end up with sawdust in your soup. a Una Knox 6 Puner orm Ans J Nove 1995 continued from page 4 i in, and my heart was going, oh my god, what the hel jus happened?! It made no sense! 1 ‘ould see the tire lying on the ‘ground not too faraway, so it really didn’t make any sense. just started screaming, “what the hells ‘goin’ on?!” [Took around and this rl standing behind me is just Tooking at me and says, “I did it!” | sad, “what do you mean ‘you id 7°" i” she repeated. It turns out she was looking for a chain for one of the sculptures she ‘was working on, and she saw the bike leaning against some of the scrap metal, and thought a pretty nice mountain bike was scrap ‘metal. She smashed the derailleurs off and sawed through the frame Just to get my bike chain. I was really freaking out (not directing any of it at her of course), and being a non-smoker, I smoked about 4 cigarettes in 10 minutes. We sat down and tried to figure ‘out why she didi, and she just didn’t know. She ended up paying for repairing the bike, and said that she realized she really screwed up, Horror So Immense It Cannot Be Comprehended By Mere Humanity Uosh Cohen, 2nd year Media) Iwas once busily working away when, out of nowhere, I was over- come by a feeling of horrific dismay. | realized that, rather than ‘channeling my energy into con- structive tasks that would develop imy skill and depth of understand ing. I was procrastinating and squandering. my time by writing irrelevant snippets on tangential topics only distantly related to my studies, and furthermore, that I ‘was writing in'a pompous and verbose manner certain to alienate any potential reader. Over the past few weeks, this inexplicable phan- asm has repeatedly clenched my Iheart with its iey laws. | fear 1 shall go mad! Beware the Kitchen (tu, 3rd Year Painting) TLeame into the studio one day to find my sculpture smashed on the floor with a note beside it laying blame on myself for the broken piece, and further denying respon- sibility by not signing their name old my instructor who shrugged his shoulders, disinterested, Let me tell you, don’t fuck withthe yentas Jn the kitchen; you'l end up with sawdust in your soup. 7.