January 11, 1993 – philosophy club

I did not write anything on saturday, although I did write in the date. I can’t remember why. I’ve been trying to figure out who the implied ‘you’ are is.

It’s clear I came back later, re-read, and proceeded to correct this passage.

My friends are going to ask their teacher Mr. W to be an advisor for a philosophy club.

My 15 year-old self says, “YESSSSSSSS!”

I do so hope that we could have one. Really we’ll just sit around and discuss nostalgiahood and memories…

Nostalgiahood is such a great word. Wow. Philosophy club sounds like a good time!

…and plot to kill…

Yeah. So, then I delve into the details of a plan we’ve come up with to kill one of our fathers for some money we think we’ll get

We figure on giving him some of this plant that grows wild in a salad. She’ll plant it in his garden. I forgot the name, but it speeds up the heart and since there’s a history of heart problems in the family, they’d blame it on that. Then we’d take the money and buy an island and have some weird country, our own, in which we’d have very good schools and people would be very well read and we’d have socialism or even communism.

This is a pretty lame fantasy island-country. I recently imagined one of these with a coworker and it was all dogs and bakeries and whiskey distilling. In any case, it’s a good thing we didn’t go through with it, because this passage in my journal would have nailed us in court. The irony of the final bit of this entry is fun.

I’m in detention now. Detention is very sad. One may say that the teacher is punishing us by taking some of our time, taking a part of our life.


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