Mitchell College - Thames Log Yearbook (New London, CT)

Page 116 text:

4 o i Reverie vs. Class NoTes PeTer The C5reaT reigned Trom I622 To She iusT crossed Those legs . . . l735. Russia aT This Time was poliTically poor and IT l don'T change my seaT l'm gonna loe . .. miliTarily wealc. The sun is shining on her hair now And who The hell is Louis XIV? PeTer Toolc greaT sTeps To reTorm The OrTho- Qrosenberg dox Church. sTeps Church Her wriTing, her hands are unique Alexander l iusT popped in And delicaTe addicTing . . . T703 PeTer conqueredsornebody l've losT all conTrol And now PeTer's dead.

Page 115 text:

1,1 JN!!! and images ff? i 56 - si.: rs i ffiyo 7 54 rogenbei-9 s. esfes s, slafe l. inane i. hilmar Wliaf +l'iis seclion is about experience - wrife, paint draw, splice, cu'r, pasle. live. flirougli +l'ie eyes of 'rlwe ar'ris+: life lpenelrrafel. wlial you see, wl1a'r you feel from changing momeml 'ro changing momenf -- communicalel wrifer-arfisl, arlisf-wri+er.wl1a+ if is like. colored imaginafion lfacl and fancyl. don r le+ if lwlwa'r?l gel away. - bless This freedom lo share. qranf flue ellorl To perceive. - To llwis we dedicale our parl. - iolin conner, edward fox, ellen gauvain, gary iarvis, ian m. lcamil, l'1arry a. phillips, sfeplien woodrufl mr. goldsmilli, mr. milchell, mr. williams

Page 117 text:

THE ONLY REALITY The wind whipped over, under and beTween The summer and a mind ThaT lived long ago, caus- ing a proiecTion and creaTion oT iTseIT in Those people who died suddenly, leaving me in my Tor- mer sTaTe. I remember TirsT The sTuTTy apaTheTic naTure oT The day ThaT led me on my journey away Trom ciTy IiTe, crowded minds, and a husTIed and conTused Iove exisTing in my naTuraI guardians. I was seven. A boy oT seven deserved a summer in VermonT's counTry To crack The co- coon, To sTreTch a mind and body. I kissed her powder-caked cheek, TeIT The aggressive blow oT his hand againsT my back, and I was gone. On The Train I waTched. I saw The perTumed lady slapping and seTTing up her kids, buf I didn'T wonder why. The man nexT To me was TaT, grubby, and had a sTench. There was only a brieT peri- od oT Time beTore he enTered inTo a snoring sleep. I-Ie didn'T boTher me, he provided consisTen- cy. BeneaTh The window on my IeTT were various names engraved iaggedly as if done in a hurry wiTh a dried ouT pen. lmpulsively. I Took ouT a broken pencil Trom my pockeT and prinTed my name. ChrisTopher. righT under some guy named F - - -. As The aTmosphere subdued along wiTh The sunlighT, rows and rows oT over-populaTed sTreeTs and houses became only a memory. I driTT- ed ouT over The darkened hills as if in search Tor someThing which lived in Their disTance. IT was a noveITy' To be more Than iusT alone. WhaTever had been myseIT suddenly evaporaTed, leaving only a shell, by oThers To be seen. The TaT man sTiII snored. Papa was aT The sTaTion waiTing when I sTepped oTT The Train aT BurIingTon. His unTaiIored ap- parel and Tloppy brimmed haT made my iniTiaI impression oT him a simple, sooThing one. I'Ie greeTed me brieTIy, buT wiTh open arms. STanding behind him anxiously were Two children, simi- lar To me in age. I TeIT as if I had meT Them beTore, as if in anoTher disTanT place or dream. Their eyes peneTraTed mine. I said noThing, waiTing Tor a Tormal inTroducTion by Papa. InsTead I was hurried onTo my g'randTaTher's ieep wiTh no TurTher iniTiaTion. The ride To The Tarm was long and calm. Papa sang an oTT-piTched Tune oT some sorT. I IisTened, Thinking oT The summer To come wiTh a sTrange curiosiTy and conTenTmenT. EvenTuaIIy, I Tell To sleep in The comTorT oT The cool breeze and humming oT Papa. I awoke early The nexT morning wiTh The sun's peeping Through The window oT a large quainT