Rants, Random Thoughts, and General Skullduggery
Some Nights
Guest Webmaster
Tim Smith
Some nights I lie in my bed and seethe with anger for no particular reason.
Some nights I would trade my soul for a Bavarian crème chocolate donut.
Some nights I wear mittens.
Some nights I chase invisible cattle through a forest of carrots.
Some nights I have clouds in my coffee.
Some nights I make plastic coasters.
Some nights I act as a vigilante against the forces of evil.
Some nights I command the forces of evil.
Some nights I eat honeydew melon out of a human skull.
Some nights I wait for the sun to rise so I can burn ants with a magnifying glass.
Some nights I feel like a nut.
Some nights I read Koran passages to a Buddha statue made out of burned ants.
Some nights I carry water up a steep hill.
Some nights I translate novels into jive.
Some nights I ride a small dog like a skateboard.
Some nights I sell Girl Scout cookies to cornfield pirates.
Some nights I am a holy diver.
Some nights I throw pebbles at Walter Cronkite.
Some nights I genuflect for peace.
Some nights I wail show tunes to a blood-red moon from the roof of a ’57 Chevy I don’t own.
Some nights I urinate into a kettle drum with six of my friends.
Some nights I morph into a sizeable rabbit.
Some nights I proactively adapt to large-scale changes in my environment.
Some nights I revolutionize the traditional structure of stamp collecting hierarchy.
Some nights I drive nails into a frenzied hypocrite.
Some nights I donate silk to Indian politicians.
Some nights I skip rocks in a plastic swimming pool full of formaldehyde.
Some nights I sit and look shifty.
Some nights I recite sonnets to an oak tree covered in silver wrapping paper.
Some nights I barter with lawn gnomes for colorful socks.
Some nights I hypothesize as to the meaning of peanuts.
Some nights I lack the self control to save for the future.
Some nights I clash with rabid beavers in extreme hand to hand combat.
Some nights I kick watermelons over the moon.
Some nights I beat zealous monks with a dried moose femur.
Some nights I am systematically eliminated.
Some nights I build play-forts out of human ears.
Some nights I cross the line.
Some nights I draw the line.
Some nights I drag the line.
Some nights I tow the line.
Some nights I toe the line.
Some nights I plant chickens.
Some nights I follow the inane teachings of a subway prophet named Spanky the Meerkat.
Some nights I whistle at old ladies from my balcony.
Some nights I sermonize on the injustices of pancakes.
Some nights I fold banana peels into #10 envelopes.
Some nights I watch the inevitable decline of America’s youth.
Some nights I climb a water tower and impede the dreams of a cumbersome adolescent.
Some night I bury ferrets in an enormous heap of old newspapers.
Some nights I frivolously perform entire nonfiction books through interpretive dance.
Some nights I admire the inconsequential achievements of irrational scholars.
Some nights I cleanse the balls of a virtuous yak.
Some nights I write senseless narratives.
Tim Smith is currently a music major at North Dakota State University. He is also the only white member of a household that includes an Asian, a Native American, and a Mexican. You can reach Tim at timothy.smith@ ndsu.edu.
