Category: Primary Sources

  • A Page From an Old Notebook

    There’s no date anywhere in this book that I pulled out of a box that has been in storage for a long time. I don’t remember writing this, but I think it’s drawn from my first solo backpack trip about 10 years ago: I felt like a great sage descending from the mountains to bring…

  • Exhibit:  $ 

    My submission to the Sociometry Fair 2000 was a full-size, dented garbage can with a large dollar sign in a circle and crossbar spray-painted on it. Attached to the can was the following essay: HELLO What would it mean to you right now if you lost all access to money? Imagine a bank error has…

  • Paper: Strange Turns in Renaissance Mathematics

    World History 219, Section 802 Dr. Monica E. Podbielski As far as I can tell, mathematicians are an odd lot. I’ve known a few in my varied undergraduate majors of physics, engineering, and computer science. There is always a surprise to be found in the minds of these people, whether it be the amount of…

  • Paper: Anatomy of a Schism – Anatta and Rebirth

    Religious Studies 100, Section 401 Dr. David Swain November 22, 1996 A religion must, like it or not, be prepared to supply answers to common metaphysical questions. How long would a new religion last if it offered no answer to the ever-popular inquisition, “What’s gonna happen to me when I die?,” while the Christians down…

  • Notebook Song

    He rode his soul down temptation road And when he got home his blankets were cold She ran out the door with a bucket of coal He said, “Goodbye my love, I’ve done you wrong.” And outside his home he wept in despair For letting his true love dissove into air He swore at his…

  • Notebook page

    I used to wander in the slums I’d hear the tales of prostitutes and bums Elvis sang and Susie smiled “Washburn Ave. is no place for a child.” “Who do you belong to child?” I’d just walk and watch my feet Jump the cracks and wonder who I’d meet Sometimes I’d sit against the wall…

  • Silence

    (11-Mar-2006 Note: I can’t remember when I wrote this, but it seems like late Junior High. My first contemplation of death, perhaps? I’ve left mistakes that seemed revealing in, but fixed some typos. I’m sure I was influenced by H.G. Wells and probably others, but it seems like a remarkably honest contemplation.) The time traveller…