College Park Monologue

Today is the day. Today is finally the day that I am to be released from the psychiatric hospital since that day when I passed out. I know last time you heard from me, I was broken and unhappy and had hate for the world, but i'm in the best state i could ever be, I really am I tell you. Oh how excited I am to see old Phoebe. I haven’t seen her since i’ve been admitted into this wing of the hospital. Oh I wonder how much she has grown< She was so intelligent and pure, nothing could ever compromise her. So I hope nothing hasn’t. I was retrieving most of my belongings before I left, when I happened to run into old Ms. Patty. This was my nurse and oh, how lovely she is. “Oh hello Holden, leaving so soon ?” she said so to me with great compassion. Naturally I said, “Why yes sadly, I must go on with myself and enjoy the world, perhaps find myself a woman”, I said this suave as hell, I tell you.

The rain had just stopped pouring, and we had all gathered in a park nearby, as a makeshift memorial for Johnny. It wasn’t really a funeral, we didn’t have the budget for that, and it wasn’t like his parents cared enough to give him a proper goodbye.

I could smell English Leather shaving lotion and stale tobacco, and I wondered foolishly if I would suffocate before they did anything.

My name is Mayella Ewell. I belong to the lowest of the low amongst the whites in Maycomb. I grew up in a poor family and never received any proper education. The only I have is probably being white. My dad and I want to have a better life, but dad doesn’t want to put any effort into doing so. My mom died when I was young and I became a surrogate wife for my dad. I wish I could have gone to school, but I have to take care of my children. My dad loves to go out and drink for the whole day. When he comes home, he often drunk and this is when he would rape me.

OK damn man. Ok I’m just going to give you general details. I already told as much as I’m going to tell you about Friday night. On Saturday we party on a boat with these fine ass women, however Luther didn’t go he was too hung over, so we left his ass at the

The name is Frank Greene and I live in the wonderful New York City. Right now I’m sitting here at Lou’s bar celebrating New Year Eve with a brandy. I’ve lived here my whole life, except when Uncle Sam decided he needed me in Vietnam right out of high school. You may ask what use the army has for a 6 foot tall, average white guy from Manhattan, who had no applicable skills. They sent me straight to infantry with the rest of the draftees. I eventually got injured and was sent home with an incurable limp.

Thornton Wilder, a Wisconsin native, is the writer of the Pulitzer Prize winner play Our Town. In Our Town, Wilder tells the story of a town in Grover’s Corners, New Hampshire, and the daily lives of the inhabitants. In the play, the author uses minimal props and scenery as well as including a main character known as the Stage Manager that has the ability to break the fourth wall, allowing him to talk to the audience. This factor of talking to the audience is a major component of making the public a part of the town. Throughout the play, there are many instances in which the Stage Manager uses various cues as well as dialogues to incorporate the audience and develop an intimate relationship to create a true sense of “our town”.

They've been drinking. What started as a few sips of mulled wine with their winter solstice celebration had quickly became a few glasses once Master Hawkeye went upstairs to be alone with his memories. They laugh, cheeks rosey and tongues heavy. He can’t imagine he could be sitting any closer to her, and with every chuckle and belly shaking laugh, their shoulders brush against each other. They're under a thick afghan, thighs pressed against each other from knee to hip, feet dangling off the couch and tangling up every so often.

And, basically it would be time to lock us up. Then, when we thought this was going to come to fruition, then it was like stuff that was maybe somewhere deep inside there. We kind of knew what had happened to these people. Also, with Ed Herman’s passing, that had to be a big thing. It has to be a recent thing, because Ed’s death was recent, so, that is a thing that covers over all four chapters of this.

It was dark and gloomy outside and I was laying in my bed mourning the tragic loss of my dear Lenore. I couldn’t go asleep because thoughts of her kept emerging in my head. I was lost in my thoughts thinking about the snow that was about to be drizzling down upon the ground, and how she loved the snow. I look around and see the picture of her and me enjoying what we didn’t know would be our last time together. They say this time of year is the worst to lose somebody you care deeply about, and I could tell you now that they were absolutely right. All I can do now is to think about something else, but my thoughts of her are cemented in my head. I will just lay here in this haze I cannot describe, and mourn the passing of my dear Lenore.

You sink into your mattress, forgetting about all the stress you have accumulated that past week. Every aspect of life seems to be harmonizing, with baby pinks and vibrant oranges of the sunset peeking through your curtains. As you lay there, you notice the fluorescent glow of a notification illuminating the room. You regretfully pick up your phone and tap the yellow and white icon, anticipating the devils that will pounce out of the app. You then stare… questioning the worth of opening the snap, and hesitantly click the red square in the corner of your screen.

I am very similar to the character Park, from Rainbow Rowell's Eleanor and Park, because of his love for music, his quiet nature, and a similar experience of becoming friends with a new kid. Thought the book Park uses music as an escape. During the bus ride to school, he listens to music for, "drowning out morons at the back of the bus" (Rowell 8). Like Park, music also acts as an escape for me. Whenever I am having a rough day, or I want to relax, I listen to music. Park and I also have a similar taste in music. This quote is used to describe his love for music, "He had an endless supply and an insatiable appetite for punk music" (Rowell 529) I believe this quote can also be used to describe my love for music because I can never get enough of it.

I am my mother’s only child. Before she had me she had taken in the three. Later on I will tell you how they came to be. I don’t want to spoil it now. I want it to be a mystery.

My friend's bachlor party A rainy day We went to a brewery went to a jungle of shorts and had chicken wings from there and went to a comedy club None of us got drunk at that night We had seen many people at that day I think none of them is terrorists

I've talked with the guys and we would love to spend Saturday Night with you. Also, what are you two interested in doing, we are down for pretty much everything including cumming on both of your faces as it is a huge fetish for us. We haven't figured out an exact time yet, but if you're still willing id email you sometime tomorrow about it. Do you have any pictures you could send us in the meantime?