What is The Hoar? A thousand sweating thighs clapping in the steam heat of a dinner hall in late august? The hearty chug of a rusting tractor struggling to spark on a crisp winter’s morning? Or an ounce of freedom to stick a middle finger at a middle-class corporate university that dictates who you are and what you should be? One charming letterist believes the latter.
I’ve become a Hoar to the powers that be…
Mummy on several occasions, has said to me “you are so different, I’m not sure if you’re my son”
– fuck that –
I’ve always been a ‘rebel without a cause’ and this is how my dissatisfaction with society manifests. That I’m out of step with everyone, each of whom is slavishly charmed to a tune.
Essay, lecture, seminar, repeat; is my insanity daring to be free?
I’ve become a whore to the powers that be… waving this patriotic flag while covertly hiding this deep resentment; I betray myself. How do such delinquents succeed, when we are restrained by this straitjacket of expectations and monotony? Essay, lecture, seminar, repeat; is my insanity daring to be free?
If you’re an outcast, an outsider or generally pissed off. Violence can be the answer but, usually, people are not that insane to fight you for no reason. I challenged two vandals in Memorial Park at 12am; they were speaking an odd form of English and one of them kept calling me a “Mandem”, anyway, they ran away on their mopeds. I suggest a punchbag or writing a poem.
Give me a barrel, I would happily be Diogenes… everyone in this shallow society wants to be an Alexander.
Seems to me, the only happy and mentally stable sort around here – are the ducks. They don’t swim in a sea of depression vying for glory in a rat-race. They just want bread. Give me a barrel, I would happily be Diogenes if Mummy lets me. Everyone in this shallow society wants to be an Alexander. Who hasn’t surrendered the sovereignty of their soul? The Humanities gives me an existential crisis; I give them time, sweat and tears – a fair trade? Well, at least am not a Social-Science or Science student; they’re a cohort of egotistical, pretentious, pompous douchebags.
Does a piece of paper after just three years, measure your worth? Indeed, while walking through central campus and observing the shit-stained tiles of several buildings. I thought “the rain could wash that off”, my dignity, though, not so much. I’ve paid an extortionate amount to an ever more corporate University (resembling a protection racket) who has the gall to repeatedly ignore the wishes and concerns of its students. I hear the cost-of-living has risen even more at Warwick University? Oh again, let us all open our legs in unison…
(Bollywood pseudonym; we can only assume this to be Zac Goldsmith — ed)