I'm gonna have to send my SAT scores to San Quentin instead of Stanford!

The third in a four-part series.

Things About and Around My College Transcript: 1994 - 1995

--Background: The summer of 1994 was fucking awesome. I lived in Harlem with six boys (including Mr. Gleemonex, with whom -- SCANDAL! -- I shared a room), worked on campus for like $7.00/hr, interned for zero dollars at an independent film production company, and escaped out to Long Island nearly every weekend with Mr. Gleemonex (either to his parents' house or his HS friend's, where we drank a lot, went to the beach every day, and cooked delicious and wonderful things while listening to the new Moz and other good tunes). We got ever more inventive at eating/drinking/having fun on the cheap (the two-dollar movie theater in the West 50s, restaurants that had monster $2.00 burritos after 10:00 pm, clubs w/o cover charges if you got there early enough, Pearl Light at the corner store for $4.00/sixer, a couple tallboys from the cart in Penn Station to start the trip right).

--My first year in a single! SHIT YEAH! Almost all freshmen had doubles, but most sophomores and up had singles; the housing lotto number my group drew was so incredibly bad, though, that my friends and I all had to double up again soph year and didn't get singles till junior year.

--I did an unpaid internship both semesters: Fall at another independent movie studio, and Spring at a premier pay-cable channel. Loved both, for different reasons, but they made for some long fucking days; I'd intern from 9 - 5, then book it uptown to my 6-10 p.m. film class every Wednesday, for instance. I stole a lot of office supplies and coffee. A LOT.

--There are at least two classes from this year that I have no idea what they were. One of them might have been the Music in Film class where I got to know Rich Hilary and Weird Arthur better? Or not, no clue.

--Also this is the year I took up semi-serious recreational herbal jazz cigarette usage, so. 

--I cannot fucking believe I managed a B+ in Lab In Fiction Filmmaking. What a stressful, terrifying, pain-in-the-ass failfest that whole thing was. I recalled this grade as a scraper/pity/extra-credit B- at best -- I knew I didn't get a C, but ...

--Fun: France on Film, Photography I, American Cinema II: Hollywood in the 1940s.

--Awesome: Structure and Style, I and II. Although the second semester was taught by a gal I came to dislike intensely, and my grade was a full point lower, even though I thought my work was better. When I see her books in the store, even now, I get annoyed all over again.

--Really fucking awesome: Race, Gender and the Politics of Rock 'n Roll. Took this with Mr. Gleemonex -- it was the greatest. And we almost always went out for pitchers of beer on Rich Hilary's dime after (it ended at like 8:30 pm, I think).

--Dean's List both semesters! Dang! (I really do not mean to brag about this -- I mean, lookit that last class, above! You, too, can make the Dean's List writing papers about Bob Dylan and/or The Lemonheads -- but I am honestly surprised, so that's why I mention it. Memory is strange.)

--Mr. Gleemonex graduates! I always have liked older men, you know.