I poo on aesthetics

When I attempt to bestow my wisdoms on my fellow man in lovely conversation I thought that the degree in aesthetics I'm reluctantly trying to achieve would help and up-deuche me, but it doesn't... My brainbox was not created to suckle on the dull tit of philosophical enlightenment and for the life of me, I can not remember why I applied for it in the first place! What was I thinking? "Let's study art philosophy for three years so I can live a long and melancholy life working in art museums, smoking my fingers and teeth yellow and hanging out in Kunstnernes Hus opting for an annoyed facial-expression whilst murmuring about the dull art scene in Oslo, with complete strangers of course since my friends disowned me after I deuchily brought them to an Andres Serrano SHIT exhibition..."

Self Portrait by Andres Serrano

Yeah, it's a poo... And because of my University of Oslo lapse of judgement I am piling on debt and at this exact moment neglecting to study by pondering my stupidity and what kind of man hating/penis loving FUN Cixous was smoking when she wrote The Laugh of the Medusa.

I want to make sweet-sweet love to a bottle of alcohol on a Friday night, but instead I should be reading art history or the history of literature since my exams are on Monday 30th until Thursday 3rd followed by a four hour exam on Friday. And now I feel ashamed that I could possibly find these cute little exams THIS stressful. It's three exams per semester, which is nothing! Dang, I need to get my priorities straight and study!

Hegel-Kant-Adorno-Barthe bullshit here I coooooome!

Hare Krishna

Siren