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Study of a Weekend
by Niama 
Saini

Abstract

 

This study aims to careen. First we made shakshuka while listening to The Cranberries. We didn’t have a can opener and someone had to pry open the can of tomatoes with a knife. It was based on the philosophical concept. We do things like argue about what color “chartreuse” sounds like. This experiment was a weekend and we feel it is an exciting time for the scientific community.

 

Introduction

 

Did anyone else used to open up dandelion stems and use the milk for potions?

 

In this study, a weekend.  

 

Someone says that dating is like conducting research but she also says that sex is like candy corn. Someone else once agreed with her hypotheses but now has broken up with her boyfriend so may have a differing opinion at this time. In this field of study, it is important to recognize a potential confound: I am friends primarily with people who are studying to become scientists.

 

I decide that dreams are deeply meaningful even though usually I don’t assign them that much significance. I await results, responses, oven timers, orgasms, birdsong. I find dull pencils, that I have changed, a box of chocolate cookies made with almond flour.

 

It is important to do this because.

 

This is not original. There are no prizes for being original. 

 

Actually there are a lot of prizes for being original.

 

 

Methods

 

Procedure

 

Research was conducted from Friday evening to Sunday night. I defrosted the raspberries but left the blackberries; I made a promise.

 

The temperature was neutral but stepping out into it felt exactly like the shock of cold had two weeks prior, besides the general shittiness, which was no longer present. We measured the tentative precision of new friendship. We had three and a half drinks each. We leaned against each other and said I’m glad. 

 

It rained and all the petals on the cherry trees were blown off, blowing up past the window like backwards snow. The next day it really snowed and I cried all morning.  

 

Materials

 

Hairbrush filled with hair clumps. Lip gloss that has not expired. Hands, cups, jackets. Jackets shrugged off and forgotten in someone else’s room. Even though you don’t know them very well, you have to go back for it in the light of day, and it’s embarrassing even if they’re nice about it. 

 

Results

 

We found statistically significant sun on our skin at a previously unthinkable 7:20 pm. I realized at the vending machine that a pop tart is supposed to be a tart. I said, “Guys, that’s why it’s called a pop tart!”

 

It finally got dark and someone’s band was playing. I didn’t used to think loud could be this comforting. They’re clearly trying to grow new grass but people keep stepping on it. This year is last year’s photorealism.

 

An exploratory analysis found that I have some sweater fuzz in my teeth. I also climb into small dark spaces when I can (see figure 1).

 

 

Figure 1: Drunk Poem from the Wardrobe, Unedited

The mitigation of sound is just how it always should be. The

secret is the invisibility. The secret is I used to lie down under my

bed and close my eyes. The secret is pants with little flowers on

them. In the pop tabs, in the hangnails, in the rush of the door

opening and the increase in volume. I have a band aid on. I am

wrong and also right. 

 

 

 

I tried going in the wardrobe again, sober, but the results didn’t replicate.

 

Discussion

 

What does it all mean? It means I have removed all outliers until it stopped raining and we sat on the roof and the story was we would come back some sunrise. We were never going to get up that early. We were never going to be similar enough to answer questions in a dandelion circle, applying foundation with sunscreen built in.

 

What does it all matter? Most research is not replicable.

 

There is a replication crisis and the weekend before this was actually below freezing but we ate dessert pizza in my room—nutella for the sauce, bananas for the cheese.

 

The weekend after this we will sit by the lake and smooth each other’s hair. There is a replication crisis but my sandals are waterproof and there has always been a freckle on my middle finger and we are lying in the grass again. Next weekend we will lie in the grass again.

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