The Mystery of the Disappearing K


and other joyous tidbits of nonsense

Fuzziness sucks.  Looks like it's time to buy some more batteries for the digital camera.

The artist formerly known as "Zack" is a boy who goes to school with Tammy, Fahey, and me. Zac(k) drives a silver volvo. He once called it "conservative," but at least it isn't a minivan. He has taken to calling himself "Zac," but we are not entirely sure why. As we are old fashioned type gals, we tend to include the "k" against his wishes.
He is an interesting lad with an interesting bedroom. Once, before we were too comfortable around each other, we stood in his room for quite a while, listening to a piece of music, and none of us spoke a word. Bear in mind that this was a piece of jazz music, and it went on for a long while. During this time interval, I got a pretty good look at his walls. Here is a completely incomplete list of things I remember adorning the aforementioned walls.

Zac(k) can often be found making music and eating things that aren't meat. He knows more about philosophy than most folks I know, and he reads a lot. (Imagine that, a high schooler who reads. Wonders never cease.) Zac(k), Tammy, a lad called Davis, and I are working on No Exit, a play by Sartre. We are going to perform it, even if only for our cats, at some point. If you'd be interested in flying out from wherever you happen to be just to see our amateur little performance, feel free... If you spring for the plane tickets, food, and lodging, we'll let you in for free. *** UPDATE *** Zac(k) got his braces off!! W00h00!! I shall have to think of some more interesting Zac(k) facts to put up here, but for now, consider this the end. Pretend everything you read up to this point was fascinating.

Take me home.
Take me back to the page about people you know in real life.
Take me back to the page about people you know at all.


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