<p>Here’s the passage about the roommate:</p>
<p>[Geronimo</a> Rex - Barry Hannah - Google Books](<a href=“Geronimo Rex - Barry Hannah - Google Books”>Geronimo Rex - Barry Hannah - Google Books)</p>
<p>yeah, agree that walden was human-centered.
do you guys remember the answer choices for the sentence completion which the answer was that opponents respected someone because she was a CLEVER debater?</p>
<p>Uhhhhhh I HATE SATS
Stupid Ass Test. ■■■</p>
<p>If I got a 10-12 on the essay, and 1-2 wrong, (best case scenario), what would my score for writing be???/</p>
<p>Skimmed through it. Narrator was getting provoked. It’s definitely taunt</p>
<p>can someone please tell me what a -8 would be on this October SAT CR?</p>
<p>-8 would probably be close to or a little under 700…</p>
<p>I really think this one will have a good curve, ie. -10= 700. So yeah Sonic, I think you made from a 680-700</p>
<p>If I got a 10-12 on the essay, and 1-2 wrong, (best case scenario), what would my score for writing be??? I really need opinions</p>
<p>Here’s the roomate passage:</p>
<p>Tim the Pastor and I broke up and he went to another room, with consent of the dorm-master. When he left I went about being wanton. I took my mattress off the bed frame, slept with it on the floor, taped up the pictures of all the models of Esquire magazine, girls dressed in silk and fur and slips and reckless sandals. My phonograph was always wailing. I brushed my teeth once a day and took a cigarette freely on impulse. ON the back of my door was a picture of Maynard Ferguson, old scar-tissue-lipped Ferg, with his trumpet and wearing a purple balloon enclosing the words “Practice, you ■■■■■■■.” And all this is what passed for being a beatnik at Hedermansever. I’d already been thrown out of the student center twice for playing jazz with a few musician acquaintances. We drew a crowd of coeds itching to dance; the ex-preacher who had an easy loft here as a student dean came in to tell us loud dance music wasn’t the right thing at Hedermansever. This man held an office and drew a salary for such services. Like a social disease, he showed up on such occasions as involved clandestine pleasure; showed up, a raving, red-faced symptom, wherever joy became too unconfined – in his natty orlon shirt and loafers and his Ive League crew-cut and his failing youth, just one of the boys.</p>
<p>Two weeks went by before they threw in Bobby Dove to live with me. He took almost a week to truck in all the books and machinery that went along with him. His correct whole name was Robert Dove Fleece. He hadn’t made it with his roomie either. One thing I could see: he dragged in so much clutter that there wasn’t really room for anybody else to live with him. Fleece said little to me the first week. Then one afternoon I walked in on him and he broke open.
“You’re some counselor they’ve hired to live with me, aren’t you?” I had interrupted his reading at the long plywood table he had for a desk.
“No. I’m not. I’m in music.”
“Are you a genius?” Fleece asked me.
“No. I’ve never considered being a gen – “
“Just going to clog up the field of music, are you? I understand, I guess. I’d hoped we’d have some ideas transpiring around this room. I am a genius. I’m going to bring something forth, my brains are going to come up with something.” He caught me staring at him. “All right, rube, stare at me. I’ve got skinny limbs, I’m not Mister Muscle. Want to see me look like a puppet?” He stood up and formed himself into a slump which made him look exactly like a pale marionette out of work and hanging. Even sitting back down on his chair, he seemed to be worked from above by some cynical puppeteer. “Did you notice that fulgurant mother of a forehead I’ve got, though?” He tapped it. Then he put his little finger in one ear and hooked it upwards lovingly: “Brains up there, he said.
I’ve got ideas. I don’t mean I don’t have any ideas,” I defended myself. “There is a lot of idea in music, you know. When I play the trumpet, for example –“
“No, I’m afraid that music is not idea. Music is instinct dignified by instruments and voice. Music is howling in tune. The Guts come first, and there is no disinterestedness, as in actual Idea.”
“What would that be like?”
“Idea? An idea is something which exists already and does not care whether you like it or not. You probably haven’t any ideas, rube, not fonking away on a horn. Sorry. I have ideas, I live at the top of my brain. You look like somebody who’s looking out of his navel. Oh ho! You want to get me don’t you, Ruben? You want a fistfight! You peer meanly at me! Oh yes, attack! Thinking I look like a limp dry pea-pod or the like, aren’t you? Some sort of fragile herb with hair on its arms. Go ahead, have a blast at me. Everybody else has. Easy stuff! Just one thing: I am a meatball at heart, a red meatball.”
“I just wanted to get along,” I said.</p>
<p>What would 4-6 wrong be? for critical reading</p>
<p>rofl! how did you manage to steal the test booklet??</p>
<p>can you tell me answer choices for taunt question and the arts place in life. Its been bothering the whole day</p>
<p>750-800</p>
<p>If you get a 12 essay, then i believe you can get up to 2 wrong AND 1 omit and still have a 800.</p>
<p>10 essay and 2 wrong is probably a 750-760</p>
<p>can you post the answer choices for the clever debater sentence completion? thanks</p>
<p>“You want a fistfight! You peer meanly at me! Oh yes, attack!”
~Taunting</p>
<p>“Idea? An idea is something which exists already and does not care whether you like it or not.”
~Ideas are independent of human consciousness</p>
<p>It’s taunting, and independent of human consciousness. I’m 100% sure of it.</p>
<p>^ 100% agreed</p>
<p>I also put the answer choice related to taunting.</p>
<p>To the six of you who just PMed me asking for questions about the test, I didn’t really steal a test booklet, I just found the CR passages online.
Still, they could be helpful, also for remembering the remaining questions.</p>