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To non-fiction!

In the spirit of getting more non-fiction submissions to the magazine, I figured I’d share an essay that I wrote while a student at UCR.

It was my second year at UCR, and when enrolling for winter quarter classes came up, I decided to take a non-fiction class. To be honest, I wasn’t even interested in non-fiction. I was a fiction emphasis. I thought non-fiction was all either history books or newspapers. Those could be interesting, but I really didn’t care that much. All that mattered was getting credit for the course so I could graduate on time.

To my surprise, taking the his class actually inspired me to think about non-fiction writing differently. Now I actually have an interest in it, something I never thought would happen. To me, it was that I realized non-fiction doesn’t have to be just  newspapers or history books. Non-fiction can be just as versatile as fiction or poetry can. But I feel that people just don’t think about it that way. Which is why I figured I’d share my essay.

So without further ado, here’s my essay. Hopefully it can inspire more non-fiction writers to submit their work, or at the very least, entertain whoever reads this.

This is to you,

Former sensei Tom Lutz

January

I have no idea what I’m doing. Life just flows by and I drift along…

1st-4th

Disappear Here

Less than Zero

Home. I come back from visiting my cousin in Boston. It’s cold, but not as cold.

My best friend, who lives next door, comes back with his girlfriend and about ten of her siblings and cousins. I hang out for dinner. People tell jokes. Smiles and laughs.

Birthday party. My friend’s sister. I give her the most pointless present ever: three cans of car wax and a dark Charizard Pokemon card in a shoe box that has the words “Drink Tickets” written on it.

A lot of people come to the party. I know practically no one. There’s a lot of drinking and smoking of different kinds. I end up drinking a lot and talking to everyone I see. A cute girl there starts to talk to me. I try to get her to take a smoke break with me, and I know she was down, but I don’t remember what happened.

At some point I find out one of my roommates, Freddy, isn’t coming back to UCR. I realize out of my group of friends last year, out of six I am the only one still going to UCR.

Plane. I’m on my way back and for the first time I feel like I really miss home. I know the feeling will fade though.

Facebook status update: Alone in the crowd.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5th-11th

I no longer know who I am and I feel like the ghost of a total stranger.

The Rules of Attraction

I talk with Freddy and he tells me how he’s realized school was never horribly important to him. It doesn’t hit me till then, but I realize at least half the reason I’m in college is cause of my mom.

A friend, who I haven’t seen since June, visits. We drink. Freddy drinks so much he vomits. That was kinda my fault.

The next day I feel like I’ve had a hangover all day and it doesn’t hit me till that night that I’m sick. Any movement makes me dizzy. My throat hurts. I feel I need to spit, piss, shit, and vomit all at once.

Class. In my fiction writing class, I volunteer to turn my story in early. I don’t know why.

Living room. My two roommates and I are watching Flight of the Conchords. I’m really sick. When it’s over, Freddy tells us he’s moving back into his house. Within fifteen minutes, he’s gone.

Weekend. I go to my aunt’s house. I tell her of my roommate situation. She asks if I’ve started looking for another. I say no. Within minutes I get a lecture and feel like I’ve already fucked up everything.

Facebook status update: Freiheit ist noch Tod sein ja?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

12th-18th

This confession has meant nothing…

American Psycho

   Fiction story. Complete loss of direction.

Classes. Because of stupid payment bullshit, I lost a class I enrolled in. I find out the class I wanted is virtually impossible to get into. There aren’t a lot of choices left. I decide to take Japanese, after a year hiatus.

New roommate candidate. He likes the place, but doesn’t want to be stuck in a contract. He doesn’t want to stay past June. I say the lease ends in June. He’s flaky. What the fuck ever.

Party. It’s my remaining roommate Drigo’s birthday. I get fuckin gone. I start to trip out and feel like a stranger in my own apartment. By the end of the night a guy named Tony is passed out on my toilet. I’m a good host.

Saturday. I’m at my friend Mike’s place drinking vodka straight up. Some guy says he has to get his drinking down cause he’s gonna be 21 soon. We take shots. He needs the chaser.

Sunday. Diamond Bar. Michelle’s birthday. A lot of people come. I know none of them. I tell a that I feel like that random guy who appears at parties. She laughs.

I play really fucked up drinking games. I play a stupid non-drinking game called Face off, which gets so intense that the girl from earlier chases after me pretty intensely.

Four in the morning. I’m tired. I fall asleep by the kitchen table. I wake up the next morning on a couch in a completely different house, twenty miles away and I have no idea where anyone is.

Facebook status update: Can’t even see…

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

19th-25th

You can have everything. Be anything. But happy.

The Informers

   Japanese class. I realize the only person I know in class is the hot chick. It’s whatever. Everyone else is boring and lame. I take a test and get 15/33. Fuck.

Fiction class. I turn in my shitty unfinished story. The full 20 pages are due on February 2nd and I have no idea what I’m doing.

Non-Fiction class. Everyone asks smart questions. The best question I’ve asked was about an essay called Total Eclipse. It was “so the thing in the bag, she said it was a breast, so is that like boobs?”

I realize on Feb 2nd I have something due, same on Feb 3, then a test on Feb 4th. Fucking wonderful.

Friday. Mike and Steve and some chick come over. A potential new roommate passes by around the same time, but he seems pretty uncool. What the fuck ever.

Mike and I smoke a lot. I end up eating a hamburger with 1 ½ pieces of bread. We play video games and I have no idea what’s happening.

Saturday. Mike’s house. People come over. We drink. A marine about my age is there and is incredibly honest about what the Marine Corp is like. Even though I workout regularly, his stories make me feel like a pussy.

Facebook status update: Lost and without cause.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

26th-31st

We’ll slide down the surface of things…

Glamorama

 I get a bill from Charter, saying if we don’t pay by Feb. 8th they’ll cut our service off. Fuck.

School papers. For fiction I decided to scrap my idea and work on another. As for non-fiction, I have no idea.

Wednesday. Drigo wants to invite a girl over and drink.

After much struggle, we find an alcohol connect. The girl goes and I give her $18 for a bottle of gin. She gets back and I get a small $5 bottle. She fucked up.

Friday. At Mike’s house we smoke a lot and eat incredible steaks. We smoke more. Drink more. Later that night, another friend of mine gets head from his girlfriend in the kitchen while everyone else is passed out in the living room.

Saturday. Mike’s house. Again. We play beer pong. A few people come over, but are soon kicked out. It seems like something might go down. Nothing does.

Homework. Well, trying. Freddy texts me about a potential new roommate. It’s a girl. She wants the den where I sleep. This means I have to give up my room and share the bedroom with Drigo. She needs to know soon. I decide fuck it. I find out that we don’t even know her name.

Facebook status update: Ain’t got time to breathe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Feb 1st  

 

You do an awfully good impression of yourself.

Lunar Park

Night. Superbowl. Cardinals lost. Hopeless.

Too much to do. Too much to think about. Overwhelming. I close my eyes and try to clear my mind.

I don’t know what I’m doing.

All I can think is

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