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El Laberinto, 1971-1987
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[hand drawing] From the Editor--- I'm on a beach, a California beach. I'm lying on a towel reading a book about pirates. The sand is white. The water is blue. The sun beats down. I look up and there's someone there--above me. I don't know who it is, but hey stand there--staring at me. I've spent the past few months in an astronomy class attempting to figure out amongst many other things whether the luminosity of a star is equal to 4 x the distance of the star squared x the flux. (It is.) This astronomy class, which I am required to take, is taught by a man who obviously cares little about his appearance and moves from one chalkboard to the next with the vigor of a zombie on Demerol. He scribbles equation after equation on the board turning toward the class only when his enthusiasm is too much to contain. "You see," he says in a monotone, "this is going to work out because .15-(-6.5)=5log d/1...." I shake my head a great deal and scribble everything he scribbles, but I have difficulty making sense of what I've written, because I don't always understand what I've scribbled. Makes sense, right? When I'm in class, I long to be out of class and when I'm out of class I long to be somewhere else. With a hot summer on the horizon, I and many other graduates will have exactly what we've longed for--our freedom. This irresistible, intangible right brings with it an avalanche of options, which are usually ignored by most for sake of safety. As for myself, I've taken my first step toward my California fantasy by investing a few dollars in a pirate book, The Adventures of a Red Sea Smuggler. My real life adventure can only begin though when I decide to take a chance and search for what, up until now, I've only longed for, which is of course, mystery, adventure, and romance. [actual signature] Antonio
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[hand drawing] From the Editor--- I'm on a beach, a California beach. I'm lying on a towel reading a book about pirates. The sand is white. The water is blue. The sun beats down. I look up and there's someone there--above me. I don't know who it is, but hey stand there--staring at me. I've spent the past few months in an astronomy class attempting to figure out amongst many other things whether the luminosity of a star is equal to 4 x the distance of the star squared x the flux. (It is.) This astronomy class, which I am required to take, is taught by a man who obviously cares little about his appearance and moves from one chalkboard to the next with the vigor of a zombie on Demerol. He scribbles equation after equation on the board turning toward the class only when his enthusiasm is too much to contain. "You see," he says in a monotone, "this is going to work out because .15-(-6.5)=5log d/1...." I shake my head a great deal and scribble everything he scribbles, but I have difficulty making sense of what I've written, because I don't always understand what I've scribbled. Makes sense, right? When I'm in class, I long to be out of class and when I'm out of class I long to be somewhere else. With a hot summer on the horizon, I and many other graduates will have exactly what we've longed for--our freedom. This irresistible, intangible right brings with it an avalanche of options, which are usually ignored by most for sake of safety. As for myself, I've taken my first step toward my California fantasy by investing a few dollars in a pirate book, The Adventures of a Red Sea Smuggler. My real life adventure can only begin though when I decide to take a chance and search for what, up until now, I've only longed for, which is of course, mystery, adventure, and romance. [actual signature] Antonio
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