Well, the toga party seemed to be quite the success. There were about fifteen of us betoga'd. Though all were regaled in classical attire, it cannot be denied that the resplendent Nik glided through the party as a shimmering Greek goddess among mere mortals. I'm sure all of you who saw her will agree, and if you did not, well, your loss, I must say. In other respects it was a good time, too. Silliman delivered a crushing defeat of Sato. The furniture flamed and the dancing bodies flailed. I shaved my body and coated my oh-so-white self in lustrous olive oil. Caleb, Wazoo, Mitchell and Seraphim nearly caught themselves on fire. The police told us we were violating open burning laws. Stack tried to seduce Krupa. Metzger was monitoring the student population. Tom improvised a denim toga. Silliman told the world what he really thought of it. Lampshades became apparel. Prosp3ct miraculously turned wine into spicy grape juice. Mr. Gugg donned the infamous Party Jacket. Danck brandished his "Photon Light" gun. All in all, an enjoyable time. Pics should be up on my website soon enough.

Due to some... interesting ShoutOuts, I had to delete this post. But, here it is again, from the Gugger:

Here is the first episode of BeatNotes, from me. It's fairly disturbing, so consider this a warning and disclaimer, all ye of tender disposition.

I am sitting at Prosp3ct's computer as various others have what they themselves describe as an "orgy" on the bed.... I'm not sure what they're doing, but only Prosp3ct is drinking, which makes me question the truly orgical nature of the event. But somehow it involves tickling, taking ones socks off, strange cuddling and seeing how many people can fit on one small bed. It's very strange.

I now only have one shoe and sock on, and everyone is laughing. Methinks it is ridiculous. But anyway--they are also listening to strange music. I'm not quite sure how this qualifies as an orgy (as I said before), but it is certainly not something one might see anywhere, or any day. So come to the Beat. The Orgy is ongoing.

But I'm not involved. Nothing of this sort happens to happen in MY room, let it be known once and for all.

I'm going to go study Greek now.

OHHHH BABY: The long-awaited piece in the Collegian about the Beat is here. Check it out. Unfortunately, the pic of us burning the sofa isn't on the Web site.

Sigh.

Haiku for Hamsters
those hamsters sure reek
their stench flows throughout the house
oh please, clean the cage

It just occurred to me that I've probably had more contact with Seraphim this weekend over the blog than in person. That's a little unnerving and more than a little sad. We're up around Geek Factor 17 with that one.
Semper te video.

POTS, KETTLES: I invite all y'all (even you Beat types) to come down to Fort Wayne for the Paschal service. Its beauty, joy and solemnity will surpass anything seen or dreamt of in your flimsy quasi-American religious heritages. Plus, we'll have some great food afterwards. Every fast leads to a feast, ya know.

All are welcome to sleep at my house if you don't want to drive home (it will be over around 3 a.m.).

Speaking of celebrations, we're having one at the Beat this Friday (that okay, guys?). It's supposed to be a wing-dinger, end-of-the-year, this-is-the-classicists'-attempt-to-make-up-for-less-parties, combination-of-all-the-parties-we-wanted-to-have kind of ordeal.

Here are some of the possible motifs (of which I imagine there will be a combo):

1) End of the year hoorah
2) Meet the lovely Anna, my girlfriend
3) Toga party
4) Costume party
5) Take a break from finals
6) Beer
7) Burning of various items
8) Silliman vs. Sato: The perpetual brawl that has come to blows! Don't miss this grudge match between two of the most notorious loud-mouths on campus!

The list goes on...

Well, this weekend is "Easter weekend" for the two heathens that live downstairs. We keep trying to tell them, "Hey, Danck, Gugg: Get with the program, Easter was last Sunday," but they just say, "No, we prefer to deny the existence of the moon." Well, at least that's the general timbre of the conversation. But hey, if them thinking last night was Good Friday means they aren't around to leave more dirty dishes lying around every-which-way, then I suppose I can quietly sit by while they bow to Mammon sometimes.
Ya voy.

OH BABY: I'll be posting the Collegian article about the Beat soon.

On a different note, I think this quote, from Ermenric of Ellwangen, is fitting for us:

"Since even as dung spread upon the field enriches it to good harvest, so the filthy writing of the pagan poets are a mighty aid to divine eloquence."

No wonder we keep Sato's hampster-thingys around here!

This the much-maligned Gugg posting something to demonstrate to one ignorant Richter type how to do so. He wants to be able to post here--I told him nothing doing. :)

It was fun.

All, welcome Prosp3ct to the blog!

In other news, I finally remedied Gugg's laziness and hooked us up with some feedback links, as you can see.
Out.

Well, we Beatniks had a rather... let's say "interesting" write-up in the Collegian today. It wasn't bad, but it certainly paled in comparison to Krupa's drunken ramblings. At least it mentioned our favorite housemate, Drowning Bob.

Regarding the previous post: This man does not represent us.

From Wazoo: I should note that, under more normal circumstances, Mr. J. Anthony Cook would probably love a movie with talking and singing animated vegetables. This time, however, he lacked a few necessary elements in his usual fortnightly television vigil - namely, Guinness and Sam Adams Lager. Which also means, incidentally, that he was in no danger of declaring his eternal romantic affections to anyone.
And I got his permission to say that.

Humph--I just stayed up until 2:30 a.m. watching the new Veggie Tales movie "Jonah." It sucked. What's the Big Idea anyway with peddling such tripe.

And what a way to ruin the Pirates who don't do anything!! They didn't even sing about never going to Boston in the fall.

I am sorely disappointed.

I am also sorely disappointed with this post. But at 2:30, what more can one expect.

I'm going to bed now.

SUP, DAWGS?: I, Seraph the Dank, am up and pontificating on this here blog.

For those unaware, my original blog is Pensate Omnia. I must say it is one fine blog (when I am on a roll and posting regularly). In fact, I believe I am the most seasoned blogger of the Beat bunch: I started Pensate Omnia more than a year ago.

But who cares about that?

I offer you two things in my debut post. 1) What the hee-eck is up with my name 2) Some poetry.

First things first: My name is Seraphim. Not Serafin. Not Sarafiiii(drop off into unintelligable noise, affected so as to sound as if you know what you are doing!). Not even Seraph (although I readily accept Serafim).

Come on, people! This is a common name for Orthodox people, especially those non-Greek Russian/Romanian/Latvian/Bulgarian/Serbian types. That's because St. Seraphim of Sarov (that's in Russia) was a very popular, influential saint from the 19th Century. Many faithful named their children after him, although both "Seraphim" and "Cherubim" are names not unheard of before St. Seraphim's time.

Now, I refer you to this set of definitions of Seraphim. Seraphim is indeed the neuter plural form of seraph, which is a fiery angel that stands before the thrown of God. It is a name that appears in both the Hebrew and Christian Scriptures. Before you go bustin' a premature move, frontin' because you think I should be named "Seraph" and NOT "Seraphim," consider what Easton's 1897 Bible Dictionary has to say:

"Seraphim: mentioned in Isa. 6:2, 3, 6, 7. This word means fiery ones, in allusion, as is supposed, to their burning love. They are represented as "standing" above the King as he sat upon his throne, ready at once to minister unto him. Their form appears to have been human, with the addition of wings. This word, in the original, is used elsewhere only of the "fiery serpents" (Num. 21:6, 8; Deut. 8:15; comp. Isa. 14:29; 30:6) sent by God as his instruments to inflict on the people the righteous penalty of sin."

Need I say any more, foo'!?

But, just in case you are truly wanton, I have one other explanation (aside from the obvious fact that I am named after a Saint). It is the neuter collective, you see! Which means I am 1) full of love; 2) able to bust out some serious wrath; 3) pleasing to all those who have ever taken a Garnjobst class.

Again: need I say any more?

Let that rest, never to be mentioned again.

Oh, and here's the poetry. It a snipet that comes from Ron Silliman's book, N/O:

                         O parking lot
                         oh parking lot
                         I'd give my arm
                         to find a slot
                                 
                                            shattered umbrella

                                    bent

                            awkwardly as a broken bird

                    morning markets meaning maybe

              old disposable
              diapers
              tied in knots
              atop the black asphalt

                            almost blue
                            barely visible
                            smoke spews
                            from a red brick chimney

weird social movements

                     (save the snails)

              my little chubbette

                            imagine Nobel laureate in chem
                            as political, as pathetic
                            as those in lit

              homeboys in the rain eat brain

Beat Night I was a huge success. We'll definitely be doing that again sometime for anyone who wants to come and especially for those who were otherwise engaged last night. We'll keep you posted.

Tonight, in a last-ditch attempt at procrastination, I sold out and started my own blog (he said with a sigh). You can find it at pulchersentio.blogspot.com. There's not much there yet, but then, it's not 2:30 in the morning yet.

Bed: What's That
I sit here at the desk:
Cluttered, grimy, loose skin and paper.
Keyboard! Under my hands.
Keyboard! Clacking away.
Keyboard! Keeps me awake.
Keyboard! Purveyor of wisdom.
Keyboard! Joy of my soul.
Keyboard! Terror of my existence.
Keyboard! Romancer of my fingerprints.
Keyboard! Jealous of my dark deep sheets.
Keyboard keyboard keyboard keyboard!
The keyboard beckons the typists
To sit and live and love
And never to sleep in the blackened night.

W.

Beat Night

Residents of the Beat are proud to announce the first-ever Beat Night. Friday, April 11 here at the house. Ginsberg, Kerouac, and coffee abound. Stop on by and watch the happening happen.

W.

Welcome to The Beat

Defn: Beatnik (1958)--A person who rejects the mores of established society (as by behaving unconventionally) and indulging in exotic philosophizing and self-expression.

"Hillsdale College is entrenched in time honored tradition. Because we have been indoctrinated with this sacred ideal, we wanted to establish our own tradition. This blog establishes our tradition.

--from the picture archive of THE BEAT, as paraphrased by the Gugg upon the founding of this illustrious item of web-lore.

But to speak for myself, the Beat has been the first home I have ever really had away from home. The constant mess, the piles of unwashed dishes, the mountains of dirty clothes, the unsmoked or half-smoked tobacco on the porch, the loud music, stenchiferous "safety"s from Sato, late nights with beer and theology in Seraphim's room, the dart board on the sadly perforated wall and a thousand other small quirks of this, the finest off-campus establishment ever conceived have contributed to make this, my senior year at Hillsdale College, one of the best of my life.

But enough of nostalgia. This blog is hereby established to permit any who desire to visit a small corner of the Beat any time they might wish to do so. Our doors never close. The beer may flow less freely here than in reality, but the bad jokes will be in no way scarcer than the material Beat. For, indeed, Wazoo will always be here.

That said, ENJOY!!