The Tragedy of Bryson Stewart

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A couple days ago I wanted to melt cheese onto a piece of toast, but I didn't have one of those conventional ovens and obviously you can't microwave a piece of bread and besides, my mom always told me that using a microwave too much would give me cancer. I was skeptical but I didn't see any reason for my mom to lie to me about that. Anyway, I figured I'd go ahead and just try to stick a piece of cheese on a slice of bread and put it in the toaster. You might imagine what happened – it doesn't take Bruce Wayne in a black body suit to thwart the Riddler here – drip drip drip, sizzle sizzle sizzle. I didn't tell my mom, obviously, because I'd hear about how stupid it was for me to have done that. It was stupid. I knew it was stupid when I put the piece of cheese on a slice of bread in the toaster.

Have you ever seen Groundhog Day? Good movie. Really inspirational.

The most prominent feature of my desk is a small CD tower. It leans forward a little bit, partially because I constructed it improperly but also because it's only got discs on the top half of the side facing me. There are a couple other objects on my desk – my journal, some trophies, pens, pencils, a lamp, some textbooks – but when people come into my room I like it when they notice my CD tower.

Sometimes when I text her about homework I grip my cell phone in my hand and wait for a vibration. I assume she's ignoring me but then I open up the phone and I see that only a minute has passed, and sometimes not even, and I think about satellites and stuff and she's probably busy and even if she wanted to text immediately, it'd probably take a couple minutes to get to me. She always texts me back. This is a relief, because I thought maybe I scared her away, but I didn't, because here she is texting me back. She liked my profile picture. I changed my profile picture and waited around on Facebook for a while, and then all of the sudden I got a notification, and it was one of my friends that always likes my shit, and that was kind of disappointing, but then there was a red box again and it said that she liked it and I was happy and I closed out of Facebook for a bit.

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-You hear that? Something's vibrating.
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-Hey, it's a text from her.

Some people are rallying in the city to protest Wall Street, or maybe it's government. It's stupid. They vent about their problems but they don't know where they're going with it. They don't have any suggestions. They just want to complain. You can complain all you want but that's not going to fix the situation. Come up with a viable solution and do something, you idiots.

I have a shower in my bathroom and it's got nice pressure but sometimes I like to take a bath in my parents' bathroom because I can soak and sit there for a couple hours and that's really relaxing. I could fill my tub with hot water if I got a plug and I guess it'd be nice to do that because my parents always complain about how I get their bathroom floor wet and sometimes the water damages the wood and one time I even felt some lukewarm water drizzle onto the foot of my bed because it was leaking through a crack in the ceiling left by water damage.

Speaking of plug, where's an outlet? There's gotta be one around here somewhere. My mom dries her hair every morning in the bathroom – oh, you know what, here it is.

-Maybe he's upstairs.
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-Was that his phone?
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