Often I will read of someone around my age doing something lucrative, cool, new, creative, and feel a certain sense of purposelessness. There they are either starting a new biointernetentertainment company, publishing their first book, having a solo museum show, battling against the odds to fight cancer, graduate harvard and raise their MS afflicted younger sister and I will look at myself, drunk again, whiling my days away reading, seeing, writing and making masturbatory art/academic objects and think fuck- I should/could be doing that. Then I realize that the path they are on is not for me, for whatever reason, pour myself a drink, toast to them and continue on my way.
This fucker however graduated from U of M last may, and promptly left for Baghdad and started an English language news weekly with a bunch of other ex-pats. I can't say that I think his writing is much in the style department, but his takes on how college did and (mostly) did not prepare him for living in a war zone are totally entertaining, and make me a bit wistful.
The fucker is going to have one motherfucking ass-whooping grad-school essay to boot.