After sneaking through a temporally claustrophobic schedule punctuated by moments of enjoyment vis. retroactive Russel recovery and crowbar defense 101, I managed to assemble a costume and enjoy a happy Halloween. In keeping with Nick, Max, Russell, and the two Rachels's theme of Fight Club, I was an evil minion. It's somewhat anticlimactic when your everyday clothing is suitable for bringing about the downfall of civilization, but it fit the part well.

Visited the haunted Evans and Nourse, which was amazing. The volunteers put an incredible amount of work (and ketchup) into converting the dorms, and it really paid off well. The image that sticks in my head afterwards isn't the zombies, knives, or blood stains, but the old tunnels covered in graffiti. Poems, drawings, satanic inscriptions and promises to loved ones, marks of furtive exploration and drunken success, logos of sports teams emblazoned in white and blue spray paint, paintings from "Where the Wild Things Are", lyrics of songs and fragments of descriptive prose, all carefully preserved within a musty corridor, unobserved beneath the feet of passers-by. One could spend hours simply reading and exploring these endlessly annotated passageways. It's something no photograph can capture, though I wish it were possible to do so.

Yarr, Halloween is here. Pechous shaved and dyed his hair, which makes him a completely different person bearing an uncanny resemblance to himself. There are gorillas walking into the dining hall and sitting down with trays full of bananas--whether for Halloween or sociology, I can't tell. As for myself, well, it's my goal to find materials to become a Mr. Hand. This may or may not be feasible.

Also: SLEEP NOW!