Saturday, September 30, 2006

What A Dreadful Idea

I've been spending too much time with my collages. Nothing comes together anymore. I just keep trying to think of ways to use "vainglorious" and coming up with little collections of words, like:

That's an awfully cruel observation to make from across the street.
I've just figured out what everyone else does, and now I will rebel.
If he were completely unique, you would call him crazy.

I utterly missed the anniversary of the blog, and then that of meeting Necker. I didn't meet him last October - what was I thinking? And that's just it. I don't remember anything anymore. When'd I start blogging? I think because of Belle du Jour, actually, and I don't think I've ever told anyone that. The first one ever had a black background with a photo of hot pink boots and tiny hot pink text. I don't remember what I wrote about. It's all in the images these days.

I've been out of the house so much that there's still torilla chips left. I read "chaos" as "ghosts", and I wrote "but's" instead of "but it's". Homecoming's tonight. I didn't go to any one of "the game"s, and I'll be falling asleep studying.

The third grade, I've realized, was a complete waste. I could already add and subtract, I couldn't multiply and divide anyway, I was reading The Lord of the Rings on my own time, I already hated science, and I haven't written cursive since. I had no friends. I took riding lessons and I wanted to play an instrument, but I gave it all up.

I can't remember what I was thinking a month ago, and I hate who I was last week. Tuesday night was amazing, and I'm already forgetting what I promised to remember. Yesterday afternoon showed me that summer's really good and over. Alex, I'm sorry I didn't find you. You missed one great reading of a picture book.

If you can be imitated, you're not worth it. But if you're not worth imitating...!

Saturday, September 16, 2006

Meaningless Miss Misanthrope

She exaggerates tripping up, skews her limbs, holds the pose, invites your eyes up her gym shorts. She doesn't remember why she signed up for this stupid class. She's hoping for something co-ed in the pool next round. She's been lying on the floor with her legs spread for a few seconds now. She starts to sit up, carries out a blonde flip, grins and flutters eyelashes. Her eyes shift to her own reflection in the dance room mirrors, and I've got her game all figured out.

She kicked her friend between the legs during basketball - no intent, pure airheadedness. They both stormed out of the game.

Friday, September 08, 2006

Too Many Self-Portraits

Everyone, hit the floor
It's penetrated the door
Slowly creeping past your barricades
Setting off the warning raids
I wake up at one thirty, full dressed, crunched in ball on the pillow, and I hate it. The comforter is coated with papers and textbooks. There's a stack of novels at the bottom left corner. There's the pen-and-ink library, the net curtain knotted the way Alison left it, and bags and pens and bras on either side of the matress on the floor.

I've got to sleep, and I've got to stop doing homework in bed. I picked fourteen, fifteen, maybe it was sixteen, red hairs off of things today, and that's the only meaningless fact I can tell you anymore. I thought of something great, and I thought about writing it down. I need to rest up, then cuddle up with my biology book. I'm restless and I want to run somewhere dangerous and sleep. I'm lonely and I hate scraping cracked flakes of black off my eyeballs.

I'm not so sure I'm capable of studying anymore. Maybe after all these years taking great notes I've finally cracked. I'm hating modernity, I'm too tired to scam this instant-win game, and I keep listening to this same song. I suspect I'm annoying everyone I touch. I need a few hours just to read and a few people just to say they adore me. All the airplanes lately have been deafening.
Everyone, hit the ground
But never make a sound
Sending out the troops to take
All the lives that went to waste

- The Foundry Field Recordings, "Warning Raids Over Kiev"

Tuesday, September 05, 2006


There you are again! I remember in December you were falling in rivers, and here you are running up with your phone. Yes, we just saw your then-again boyfriend go crazy, he went thattaway. My, doesn't your world spin a bit fast for you? You're welcome, now. Good luck.

There are people and noise everywhere in the busy dark street and you're the twentieth person to say my name at least. Jean jacket, leggings, shiny auburn hair - I know you. And then - no, I knew you, because you're gone now, and I took home your French workbook and didn't tell you until now because it would sound so silly. I barely knew you and I miss your silly embarrassed laugh. Maybe I'll cut out the black-and-white pictures of France in the eighties and paste them into things.

Thankfully, I've had to acknoledge you twice in person all year. Sometimes I find myself behind you in the hall, and turn so you can't get your claws into me.

I don't remember when I first saw you. Too often I'm frightened of strangers. I'm getting over it, in a big way. You were the first of two new awesome people I've hung out with in the last week. I do remember the skipping, but I'm not sure how we wound up with candy under the bridge with all the things Alison's written. You're as alone and crazy as me and it's fabulous. I hope you and Necker don't sit on either side of me forever.

From the driveway in December your house looked warm and cozy. I wonder which is her room, I thought, and, I wonder what it's like in there. The play was a downer, the teenage drama was wild, and Emma's still a mystery, but the consequences are far more interesting. Lots of lovers aren't friends. We're absolutely outrageous, but it happens to be great.

Tonight I'll dream while I'm in bed
When silly thoughts go through my head
About the bugs and alphabet
And when I wake tommorow I'll bet
That you and I will walk together again
'Cause I can tell that we are gonna be friends
Yes, I can tell that we are gonna be friends

- The White Stripes, "We're Going To Be Friends"