For the moment, life is good.
It will fall to shit again soon enough because that's the way of the world, so I'm savoring the moment. And breathing. I'm all into mindful breathing right now on account of Max the Psychic Life Coach. Namaste.
I was mindful of my breathing when I visited Hookah House with Velvet this weekend - but mostly because of the smell. It seemed to be a combination of cigarette butts, bong water, beer cans and the spray cleaner they used to wipe up spills. The living area was free of dirty socks, but something vaguely like musky sweat hung in the air. Maybe it was testosterone. Velvet's room kind of smells like that now. It's as if his luggage absorbed Eau de Frat House. I can't say it's attractive.
Most of my extended family is perplexed that Velvet has joined a fraternity - most likely because they remember that when I was at the University of Texas at Austin, I hated those smug-assed motherfuckers, and I hated those sanctimonious heifers in the sororities too. Once I saw Hookah House, I could see that the Hookahs are not smug-assed motherfuckers. I'm not sure exactly what they are, but it's more along the lines of Animal House.
Since my brother happened to be at Big Beautiful Private University with his cameras last weekend, I talked him into taking some pictures so that my family's collective mind could rest easy, secure in the knowledge that Velvet is not on an elitist trajectory leading to a job on Wall Street. More likely it's an elitist trajectory leading somewhere ridiculous, but since he comes from a family that values story above most everything except character, then I really don't know what else we can expect.
The Values and Priorities of Hookah House are clearly visible. The basement kitchen indicates that cooking, for example, is not a priority:
Clean clothes are important, though. Velvet says the crutch makes this machine run better:
The brothers don't seem to care much about the carpet:
But this little refrigerator in the living room practically sparkles:
We can safely say they value cable TV:
And they are starting to explore gardening:
Now that Velvet has all the rights and privileges of a Brother, he will be Velvet no longer. He prefers to be known by his pledge names -- Tiny Dancer or Helen Keller. Tiny Dancer after the well known Elton John/Bernie Taupin song. He sang the hell out of this song all semester, and he can really carry the chorus.
He got the handle Helen Keller as a result of the incident with the Douchers (Velvet Gets Arrested, Stonerdate 04.17.2010). The brothers had already determined that Velvet doesn't notice a thing going on around him, which makes him effectively Blind & Deaf. After the arrest, they added Dumb so he became Helen Keller which seems appropriate to me, but it looks like Tiny is going to stick. I don't know what to call him anymore, so for the moment I'm going back to Baby.
The best part of the whole Hookah experience is that Baby can't officially be on the fraternity's roster until he has a cumulative GPA of 2.5. He is absolutely dedicated to getting on that roster, so I'm pretty sure his days on academic probation will soon be over. As I have already said, it's hard to believe that a fraternity house with a six foot bong could be a source of structure and support, but I'm grateful for blessings whenever they appear.
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