New Utrecht High School - Comet Yearbook (Brooklyn, NY)

Page 13 text:

This was too much. Xve could stand no more. Xve grahhed our coats and ran out of the house. Surely there were others who felt the same way! But no, the faces of the passers-hy reiiected no sympathy. They rushed past, either carrying food supplies for expected guests or ali dressed up to devour some of the same food. There was no consolation to he found here. Deject- ediy we were strolling down the street, when a dog fman's hest friend, the dog? came over to us. Not seeing the gleam in his eye, we thought, Here, at last. is a friendf' But no, even this dumb animal scorned us. As we walked along, our spirits were low. Xvhat was wrong with us? Even our ioest friends wouldnt teii us. Xve tried to tell ourselves that we were spending a safe and sane New Years Eve. hut what fun is it? Afraid that we might meet a friend, we decided that thereis no place like home. Home can he very attractive at times, hut not on New Yearis Eve. After we had counted all the Howers in the wallpaper, we settled down to a fast game of Chinese checkers. At the end of the twelfth game, we opened -!'99Qf'0-...fx 2 our eyes only to find that it was eleven oiciocio-still one hour to go. Feeiing very virtuous hy this time, we decided that the hour for New Years resolutions had come. We prohahiy wouidnit keep them, hut it would waste time, any- how. And it did. But of all the resolutions there is one that we solemnly pledge ourselves to keep. VVe hereby vow that we shall never again spend New Yearis Eve at home, even if we have to hire escortsf, Suddenly, the twelfth hour struck. Horns hiared, firecracicers popped, hells chimed-it was 1Q41 at iast. But it didnyt feel any different. We looked at each other, hewiidered. was this what we had spent the long evening waiting for? Over the radio we heard joyous crowds singing the words of Auld Lang Synef, but our hearts were not in it. For we happened to rememher that someone once said, UVVhatever you are doing on New Yearys Eve, you will do for the rest of the yearf' CQMET Page Eleven

Page 12 text:

-QJ trying to ease their insatiahie appetites at my hOl1SC , b except that I find that. it anything, I am receiving the short ends of the meals, during their prolonged visits. K As I am ready to take ieave ot my house for the 1 evening tl will prohahiy end up in a lunch wagon, . . I am confronted hy a portending and sinister looking ' I xl lx lriumvirate looking like hiown up and distended hot l y water hags, their hluhhery carcasses swinging to and 'I fro as their heavy steps resound through the room like the peaiing of thunder. tl shudder at the thought fr of dining with these three weary animations, for I ! 7 X W ' ft' would ieei as it I were in some dank, dark cellar Q t S with a staring hust of Edgar Alien Poe hanging from ' 1 . lhe cohwehhed rafters and a raven picking its teeth in the corner and spitting the particles down my C lp, necic . . . D -AI 1' J Q. In the earlier part of this effort to acquaint you with the hardships with which a few free loaders X might entail an innocent hystander, I had mentioned f, -1.6, that my hitch-hiking cruise had been interrupted hy I ff -Y . ' - these loose interpretations of the higher organic species, dl Q r hut I realize now that they have only succeeded in W GL hastening my departure. . . . Q X E I leave now with the assurance that, devoting my ' 1' .1 . V . H . Q , entire future Irie to the exclusion of the diner glut- ? tonsf, some day I shall spit my rheum of hate and 'N contempt against these erstwhile epicures that have f organized and plotted no end, and have succeeded in Z ' eating me out of house and home. Happy New Year! By ELEANOR LANDY and MARCIA PANKIN ONCE we were happy, carefree creatures, hut now we are hitter, dis- illusioned souls. VX7e canyt face our friends. The disgrace is unhearahle. It was the night of December 31, and all over New York people were preparing to hit the high spots. But New Yearys Eve has come and gone, and still we sit at home. The radio ta wonderful invention, the radiof hlared forth with: UHappy New Year, everybody. Vve know you're on your way to have a good time, hut, wherever you're going, to that party or that new show, he sure to drive carefuliyf, In desperation, we turned the dial, only to hear: Hello, all you stay-at-homes. VVe're all set to hring the best bands of the country right into your housesf, Page Ten CQMET

Page 14 text:

Oh, ML Nash, What T rash! If there's anything that annoys your reporter More than these intellectual guys anci gais who write poetry, then itis the fact that they oughter Stop immeciiateiy, hut cionyt. It may he hecause they stuhhorniy just wonit, Ami then again, perhaps they just canyt hear To get those terrificaiiy profound thoughts out of their coiiective hair. But anyway, As I starteci out to say, ltis perfectly incomprehensihie That such weii-meaning taciies and gents can possihty turn out stuff that resemhies oniy a very reprehensihie Mess, I must confess. For instance, tahe the long-haireci iittie guy Who praises Shostahovich to the shy. fNow mind you, aii this is perfectiy O. K. hy me, I stiii can,t teii a rhumha from a rhapsoclyj But when he tries to rhyme Crescendo with anything hut innuencio, which as Giihert and Suiiivan once saici, has .nothing to cio with the case, then 1 see itis time ' For me to quit Before I throw a fit. Anci then, of course, white shimming through a hooh Of something that might he verse fno pun intenciecij tinnocentiy chance to tooh At some monstrosity written hy a citizen nameci Browning. tneecin't go much further. Everyhociy hnows that for a hundred years his 'so- caiiezi poetry has heen the crowning Glory of the H ,Twas hriiiig, and-the-siithy-tuvs-gyreci-anoi-gimhieci-in-the-wahe.U school. At any rate, it souncis iihe ciouhie taih to me, hut then again tim just a common foot Wizo speahs ye ianguage English as she shoutci he spohe Anci that, my friends, is most assureciiy no johe. But iet's resume. In previous ravings I have had no room To treat with the un-nohiest Roman of them ati,-I The caoi who ricies his unsuspecting readers for a fait. ' I refer, of course, to that ciiahoiicai menace of the iiterary worici, The varmint who writes that stuff caiied free verse, in which the miiiion worois he uses couici he herieci Down to practicaiiy nothing, hut which insteaci he uses to compose Poetry that shouici he prose Anci very haci prose, at that. Page Twelve CQMET