I hate my name.
I like it very much actually, it's very pretty.
But i hate responding to someone else's call. and i hate it when they respond for me.
i've gone thru variants. changing my middle name (sarah marzipan brosnahan) using my saint name (margaret, which the catholic church deems my first name) and convincing unsuspecting outsiders that my name is actually "euphemia."
but i am past that point. i am insane. i have to have a different name. and i have to get people to actually call me by it. i liked "ladybug" a lot, but i couldn't even get one person to call me that. so say. i would spell it "sa" in formal formats...erm settings. but to eliminate confusion (or else to endorse it) i will spell it "say" whenever possible, because it is pronounced like the word 'say.'
i love it. i love to speak and be spoken to. i love what is said and written. i love words. so say!
say less
i intend not to go back. and i intend to stop responding to 'sarah' at some point, so be forewarned. you've been forewarned... so enact existence etc.
i am also very partial to mumblemouth and mumbletonia...
and then, of course, there are derivatives, such as saraha zanoo.
i like indigo but it is too beautiful. i need something more real
i've thought of zara too... and, um, underwater landslides
Actually, i want to go by Ra. Like the Egyptian sun god. Man that would be cool. if i were a man
so stay Say.
I don't really like high-school. I don't like many high-school students, for one thing. I think they seem pretty agressive a lot of the time, often because they are overly defensive and uncomfortable. I don't like the administrators or the councilors because [those that I have encountered personally] don't treat me like a regular human. They treat me as though I am somehow mentally inhibited and do not understand what they are saying, when it is they who do not understand me because they are not willing to listen, likely due to the fact that I am a high-school student. I don't like that so many adults, who generally think I am older than I am by looking at me, suddenly treat me like an unexploded bomb when they find out that I am in high-school. More than anything, I don't like the pervasive muddiness which I feel when I am attending high-school and which I associate completely with high-school. Perhaps it is the lack of clarity of thought or expression that high-school students are shown and generally feel, being pulled in many directions whilst trying to engage in “finding ourselves;” or perhaps it is just dishonesty. It seems like people in high-school, especially students, are dishonest rather often; and many teachers are surprisingly willing to be dishonest towards students, especially through deflection and façades. I find when someone is lying to me, I invariably respond with another lie, even if I do not discover the lie until later. I create lies of my own as well, mostly to save feelings. I wonder what people in high-school would think of me if I told the truth. It sounds like a good thing to do, but in the end, I am not really sure what I would think of myself. I doubt I would have any friends.
Justice and mercy can often seem like opposite ideals, because they are two antithetical ways of reasoning that frequently call for opposing actions. Justice allows society to function, as imposing punishments for doing wrong seems the only successful way of mitigating potentially harmful behaviors. Mercy stays the hand of justice, which is not only akin to righteousness, but also akin to perfection. How could humans, who are intrinsically fallible, survive without mercy? We are held no less accountable for wrongs we did not intend, because one can only know one’s own intentions. Are mistakes to be punished severely?
Justice is a powerful and deeply rooted requirement in human interaction, but it is cold and inhumane if it is not tempered with mercy. Mercy is a second look at the guilty, but it is a compassionate look, not a condemning one. Mercy has no place, however, if justice has not already detected guilt. Therefore the two are intricately intertwined, one cannot be without the other, and the other should not be without the one. What can be done when two self-aware parties clash and one is overpowered? Most modern societies try to keep all persons on a level with one another, so the overpowered must be empowered, and the vanquishers must pay dearly for overstepping their bounds. Self-awareness, however, entails consciousness, which provides room for repentance. Without mercy running in the veins of our justice, then the judiciary becomes the oppressor, which merely shifts the problem, rather than eliminating it. Therefore, if a mediator is involved [in other words: if justice is not self-imposed, which it seldom is] then justice will negate itself without mercy to sweeten it; this would happen merely by placing the power of justice in the hands of some the very people it is supposed to balance. The power of justice without mercy is the power to punish but not the power to forgive, which is often much, much harder. A judiciary without mercy is then at once too powerful and not understanding enough. It is fitting that humans should regulate human behavior.
Perhaps the values of justice and mercy can be intermingled by finding a median, a lesser justice. This justice would punish wrongdoing as well as provide a sense of vindication for one or for a community, while mercy would render the punishment milder, more bearable, for those to be punished. Justice and mercy must be united to reach a solution to conflict that is empathetic towards all parties involved, justice righting the accusers, mercy saving the accused.
Excerpt from my semi-private journal as cut by Ms. Noemi S.
“… but then I realized that there was nowhere I wanted to be, specifically. I feel, have felt, only a powerful need to be not where I am. Suicide is not something I have considered, outside theoretical musings in which, invariably, I discounted the thought almost immediately. I wonder if this is because I still cling halfheartedly to the virtue of potential I once embraced, or if it is merely a hope that something will come along to break the monotony, or lack thereof, which constitutes a monotony of its own when time is the only thing that changes patterns. In net: some things get better while other things get worse, but there is no progress because there is no drive. I think there was drive once. That was before I realized that what is picked up on as genius is generally the superficial, what is not of any import.
“Self preservation is indirectly necessary, if it is evil. There are a few that may care about my personal outcome, for example. … [They do not] recollect that it is animal responsibility to give up on the hopeless ones. Now that we use our spirit to refine the animal, we ought to maintain our consistency. That is the way of things and I am powerless to change it… being not that it cannot be changed and not that I cannot evoke change, only in this particular matter I have no sway…
“There are days when I walk into the ground. Perhaps I think of tripping and bring that forth, or cannot bear to go forward without making progress. I think I could go up, but then, how to go up without stepping on others? I make an educated approximation when I say it cannot be done. … [I] cannot account for the ambitions of those around me. …When I walk into the ground I will walk quietly.
“…a dream … [in which] people were not perpetually skirting the act of living. …I feel that if I could somehow come into contact with the force that is behind what was, perhaps I could resolve my dilemma."
Or, How to Subliminally Irritate by Bombarding People with Gripping Personal Predicaments
or, how to be an ass without sounding (or smelling) like one
Step 1:
Remember that getting what you want in life (even if it is someone’s goad) is often a matter of apposite language. For example, if you asked someone very nicely to jump off the nearest 11 story building, they might actually consider it, especially if you used pretty, suffocating diction that they had to weed thru mentally before they got your gist. Then they might be angry, of course, but then that is to be expected whenever you make silly requests.
Step 2:
Once you have determined the most eloquent phrasing for your temporary personal condition, you must quickly decide what your personal condition actually is, keeping as close to the likeliest interpretation of the words that have been spoken as humanly possible. Keep in mind that if you are among unlikely people, they may have less than likely interpretations of your fluffy little patience assassins, in addition to the fact that some people have more trouble deviating from their initial conceptions of a situation than others.
Step 3:
As the conversation progresses, drop seemingly inadvertent clues that nudge listeners’ ears in the direction of the desired interpretation of your character. If you are passive-aggressive enough, they will feel bad enough about thinking badly of you that they will ignore your upsetting of their life, and then you can be like oh-ho! What a pointless, albeit stealthy, asshole I am!
Step 4:
Record potentially funny examples and publish them on random sketchy websites.
Step 5:
For further reference, read some examples by Nougat The Nugget [developmental conversation not included, pure imperishable genius sold separately]:
…Aha you speed! I can dig it. Yah Drivers Ed. sounds like a blast; I really can't wait to take another class that makes me want to maul the wall repeatedly with my cranium...
The verdict: SUBTLE! C+
Who needs bluntness when you could have ravioli?
The verdict: nonsense. B+
I want to bake cupcakes in space. I mean what I say.
The verdict: nonsense that sounds serious. A!
Never a dull moment
The verdict: Cliché A
I am deliriously wrinting letters of gratitude to george bush...
The verdict: was funnier when I was delirious. C-
Bottlenut dragons?
I love using extravagant words and I shudder to think that they all mean something slightly different.
The verdict: Honesty is the best… honestly! D-
Actually I just got bitten by a dog. Oh, you weren’t looking… your head was turned.
The verdict: pithy! A+
I am going to ask you to approve these so that I can put them on the internet, though if you don’t approve them I may still keep them in my private warehouse of verbatim expressions.
The verdict: clean. B
oh sick bug, what sayest thou?
love from nougat the canary
I am writing to say that your bits of cloth have taken the unique position of cherished scraps. I can’t actually say that I have felt any emotion whatsoever about fabric before. But onward to less self-indicting topics…
The verdict: self-indicting indeed. E
Actually, come to think about it, I am pretty free-love. I mean, wouldn't it be great not to be bogged down by anything? What if relationships were unburdened by suffocating eventualities? And wouldn't it be the sweetest secret “I love you” if you chose to be with just one person and didn't have to tell them that they were the only one?
The verdict: Aah, philosophy. C
Shut up! I am engaging in omphaloskepsis.
The Verdict: A. That's all I can say.
Sarah wants to go crazy in college and get a lot of tattoos so that she can complain about how stupid she was for the rest of her life. Actually she really wants a tattoo of a ladybug (actual size) on the inside of her wrist, and she generally refers to herself in the third person.
The verdict: aah life. FFFFFFFFFF
You are, without a doubt, one of my favorite humans. You may even be one of my favorite beans.
The verdict: Humor, plus wordplay, minus initial misconception of potential mushy properties, equals god you’re good. A+
And a little post script
I had rainbow sherbet for breakfast this morning. I think if your face opened a store, everything would be underpriced.
The verdict: mushy... sappy. Gross. E-
I’ve been doing fine
Hanging out inside my mind
The verdict: Rhyme is fine as long as you don’t whine… or in trying, misalign your spine… or mine. B+
Wait a second… I know what to do with all those random rhymes I write for people based on circumstances! I will put them here. Be patient with me, I’m crazy. Be patient looks like baptize when you read it too quickly.
The verdict: Stop evaluating yourself. But crazy pleas are lame, so… B-
Fordham sounds fly
And stick to those studies
They sound like more than enough to get by
And buy a Cadillac to impress your buddies
I’m studying nursing at VCU
It’ll be fun but a lot of work too
But even that's all right, my classes are small
I’ll get close with the nursing students, 30 in all
Hey man, I miss you
We should hang out sometime
Sorry, to tell you the truth
I don't know why this rhymes
Call me sometime soon
I’ll be on the moon
Much love and a hug,
Sarah the ladybug
I’m super excited too!
I'm living in Brandt hall
How about you?
I can't wait for this fall!
I hope to see you there
Studying PT and having a ball
Despite the fact that it doesn't seem fair
We should be made to work on Friday at all.
Much love and a hug,
Sarah the ladybug
Well* Well Well
There was something I wanted to tell you...
OH! Take my survey
And donate food to Africa too
www.freewebs.com/undergroundatypical
Is where you can find my survey
And, though the vocab. is difficult
Freerice.com is also worth it
Thank you for your continual support
And though it may seem hard to bear-a
I hope your ship always finds a safe port
And remember to hang out with Sarah
Of course you're quotable, Mr. Harris*,
And you should definitely not get embarrassed
By your brothers, for if they are related to you
I’m sure they are quotable too!
Not that I’m going to pretend they aren't strange
Actually, not saying what they're looking for seems pretty deranged
I wonder if it was a knife or a lance
Or perhaps some illicit illegal substance.
Anyhow, awkwardness is my cup of tea
And your schizophrenic tendencies are fine with me
And your rhyming makes me like you even more
Though I think book signings are an awful bore
What’s with signatures anyway?
They’re not even fun to get
And you just wait in line all day
Though I guess it's cool to remember authors you've met.
A doctor! Oh no no,
I must respectfully decline
As I can positively show
That there is no harm in reckless rhyme!
And I must apologize; I think I got cut off
As urbangoo* often fibs,
Whole posts dwindle oft
And I like your ribs.
Much love and a hug,
Sarah the ladybug
That sounds great
But I can't skate
No wait
Maybe I can skate over the land
Of the peppermint skies and trees made of sand
In my mind
You could find
Us skating together
In sunny weather
So you should know
I’ll go
We’ll flow
Thru the neighborhood on our nifty skateroos
And I will make sure not to wear my shoes
Call me sometime soon
I’ll be on the moon
Much love and a hug,
Sarah the ladybug
Nix nix
I forgot to tell you my digits
XXX.XXX.XX76
Don’t hurt midgets
Worry not about time spent on rhyme dear Xob*,
For if no logic emerges, I insert a glob
Of random words to rhyme with ones needed
To ensure that my thoughts are thoroughly completed.
And fear not for my encounters with no-fun peoples
From the depths of the earth to the tops of the steeples
I shall defend my rhymes, and say to them, "forsooth!
If you give me rabies, I’ll knock out your tooth!!!"
Your rhymes do likewise make me smile with glee
And say to myself that it is plain to see
That Xob* is quite capable of formulating words
That rhyme with an eloquence like fluted song of birds!
Though now I must go for my ear is quite infected
And paining me so, though my anger directed
At myself of course, for being so dumb
As to not clean my piercings and rub them with my thumb.
Anyhow, I shall hopefully see you soon
But until then I will definitely be on the moon
Fare well, dear amigo, and try not to fly
A drunken seagull into the eye of yon mind.
Aah too long and so I must continue
A new post, and hope that does not trouble you.
Have fun at the zoo
And bring lots of kibble
I wish I could come too
And I like your mandible
No! No chopping of Morgans* is allowed!
But since we are happily Morgan-endowed,
I would gratefully suggest
Tofu Morgans for pies that are best!
Hey Mr. Harris*, to be quite frank
Some of my rhymes have truly stank
But I’ll keep right on at rhyming
And blame everything on Zeus
Unless by your timing
It’s time to call truce
As for my ear, it is much better now
And thanks for the sentiment your unnecessary apology allows.
But ears hampering camping? Pshaw! No way!!!
Let me assure you I had fun yesterday!
And I’m glad that the zoo was fun too, alas!
I wish I had gone to see animals en masse!
And how long, may I ask, is swimming an option
Because, due to a blissful adoption,
Babysitting may constrain me for a night or two
And I’m sad 'cause I really want to hang out with you
And go swimming too.
And so, now with my tongue quite tangled
From trying to pronounce your words of farewell, I have finagled
The courage to ask if those words are in the dictionary...
Because on the computer they look quite scary!
Fare thee well for sure, and good asteroid
And, Senor, I like your deltoid
I’m sorry Morgan*, you sounded let down
When you called and invited me to the zoo
I didn't want you to hang up with a frown
And wonder why I wasn't going with you.
I would have, you see, liked to go very much
But camping is such an adventure
I couldn't resist, and I’m sorry to touch
On a subject as sweet as a denture.
I hate changing plans like I hate minivans
And this might not have been problematic a bit
But I wouldn't have liked to have wrung my hands
Over plans changed at the last minute.
So Morgan*, I vow to spend time with you soon
And look forward to our next excursion
Until then I promise to be on the moon
In search of some blissful diversion.
just sayin
i got your comment
and i ain't playin
i'm going to respond to it,
now.
these places sound fly
and veggies are friendly
how did you know i
would like the list that you sent me?
i will keep the list close
and though i'm having a smiling fit
i'll be rather morose
if you spent time compiling it
Personal favorite:
Since it is here
I’ll write on your wall
Even though it's queer
That it's not a wall at all
In fact, it's a spaceship
On its way back from Mars
Just stopping to equip
With Cuban cigars
So how goes the day?
And I’ll call you soon
So you can get a djembe
And play me a tune.
Even though it's true
That I’m WAAY ahead of you,
Much love and a hug,
Sarah the ladybug
The shape of that poem/letter is also like a little squat alien in profile with a very prominent navel.
*names have been changed to ensure the continual protection of my clients. Oh!!! Read everything twice!
Xob* likes ambiguity as well, or so I am told.
Oh look, I went on a tangent and never came back!
I do not think that evolution explains altruism, unless altruism is beneficial to the species, which it is not necessarily. I have read stories about dogs saving the lives of humans [and losing their own lives in the process.] However altruism does not negate evolution [or vice versa] even if they are totally independent. Especially among humans, there are many things done that do not have evolutionary benefits. An example of this is birth control – birth control does not encourage the fittest to survive, in fact if it is the fittest that would be reproducing, then birth control works against evolution. This does not negate evolutionary theory however; it is just an implementation of will.
Free will can definitely go against what would maximize the likelihood of survival for an individual, but an altruistic act might be more beneficial as a whole than a selfish act. Given a situation where you have the option of sacrificing your life to save ten people, one could argue that the altruistic thing to do [sacrificing your life] is explained by evolutionary logic. But concern for your species in general does not explain an altruistic act in which you sacrifice your life to save only one person, because you are not increasing the survival rate of the species as a whole [unless you know you have a terminal illness, but there are countless variables and for simplicity’s sake I am going to ignore them.] An altruistic act in which you sacrifice your life to give someone a better life actually goes against evolutionary logic. Therefore, I must argue that altruism and evolution are independent desires when there is a conscious will involved.
The examples I have given thus far of altruistic acts have all been rather extreme, as we are not given the choice to sacrifice our lives to save others on a regular basis. Most altruism involves daily activities. An example of more commonplace altruism is when you sacrificing an activity that would give you pleasure in order to comfort a grieving friend. Again, this is completely independent of evolution, despite how dangerous grief is, very few people die from it and therefore you are not increasing the likelihood that your friend will live. In some situations where it seems altruism and evolution might negate each other, think of animals without a conscious will [by this I mean that they are not necessarily self-aware, they do not like or dislike things arbitrarily, they are not affected by art, etc.]. I could see an animal sacrificing its life to save its young, but not for the sake of another animal in its species; as [evolutionarily] this does not make sense. Therefore I am arguing that the potential for every example of altruism only exists in creatures that can willfully discern between what is good and bad, which can overrule more basal evolutionary desires. That is unique to humans, as far as I know.
So I was walking along the track in P.E. the other day and this person from the other gym class approaches me and asks me how's come I'm always so sad and I say, "I'm not sad, I'm pensive." Then he asks, "Does that mean you can read minds?" and I’m about to laugh and I’m about to say no but I keep a straight face and say, "Yea, I can read minds." He grins really big and says, "Cool," then, "Read my mind." Being the sort of person who will play until I lose, I say, "Okay. Your parents went parachuting last summer. Um, you're chewing red bubblegum!" As I continue my outbursts grow steadily more ridiculous, and his expression grows more and more astonished and he interjects thing like, "My god.” "That’s so weird!" and "How'd you know that?" I’m actually starting to wonder if I can really read his mind, because it's strange, you know. Of course I can't actually read minds, and I know I’m just pulling this stuff out of my ears, but he was so convincing that I got to questioning, which was such a thrilling feeling. But it isn't like liquid affection it's more like, "Hey, are you stupid?" because I couldn't possibly read minds, but I certainly liked the wonder... or doubt?
But I’m only HALF bald.
Disclaimer: I'm sick as a dog, so I apologize if I make even less sense than usual.
I don’t know if this is mandated by society or what, but I have spent a good deal of my time trying to comprehend the place of a woman here, now. Am I expected to be caring? Proper? Chic? A babe?
I know that I am: hasty, careless. I am crude, quite often engaging in potty humor. If I dress to anything, it’s that 90’s grunge junk, but even that doesn’t quite fit. And I’m definitely not the darling 99% of men are looking for.
I am going to be a nurse. Why am I doing this? It doesn’t seem to fit with my personality. I would be a doctor, I really would. I just don’t believe in myself. I suppose in that way I am living up to today’s teen-aged girl – cupboard tears; Russian roulette with my personality.
beauty doesn’t trump Personality.
So, to what I was going to write about:
Why did I shave half my head?
I’d done it before… so I wasn’t TOO scared. Actually, I wasn’t scared the first time either.
Oh man, for heritage’s sake. The Choctaw part of me writhes in the poison of corporate America. American Indians were here first, though shaving half the head was probably a male thing.
Locks of love, a chance to give
My friend Becky was shaving her head. I really was happy to hear that; she had much better reasons than I. Something about modern superficiality. I wish I could say I want to dedicate more of myself to school and religion. But at least she didn’t have to do it alone.
I’ve always wanted to shave half my head. I haven’t ever seen anyone else do it
Weird, but I think stubble is attractive, even on the crown
It’s liberating
I use half as much shampoo
Y
I hate beauty.
Am I still so sure?
I don’t regret it one bit. I was a little tentative at first, shown by my refusal to wear a hat. There were a good deal of double-takes and stares. I walked by a seated group in the commons, and someone grunted “freak.” I can’t explain very well why I like this, and to be quite honest it succeeded in upsetting me at first. I was mollified when I went to my friend’s house last night and one of his roommates said levelly – “Hey, I like your haircut.” It met with everyone’s approval there, and they meet with my approval. I felt profoundly calm. So yes, I am still sure.
Unfortunately, every pro has its con. Iadaiada, but my number one outside my family hasn’t called me back about this new development as of yet. This, if anything, puts a stopper in my sense of free-fall
got a minor haircut
half there
[hairwise]
i still have to buy shampoo so.
maybe baby, i shaved half my head.
i'm half bald, and that is that!!!!!!
[ snip snip's the story!!]
my great grandma was Choctaw, i'm just trying to live it down
so i shaved off half my hair. myself! and it's a perfect straight line.
hellacious!
i really like my hair, oui
umm i don't think i can keep it this way for very long, hospitals have very strict dress codes [no tattoos, no piercings besides your ears, no unnecessarily bald women]
i don't know about going to a rez, they are really depressing. i've been to one before, Navajo. i've never personally seen a people more beaten down. it makes me so proud to be an American.
stuff i like:
people
the smell of linen
the blue tint of everything just before sunrise
school
greasy greasy sketches
the color green
beards and such, but only if they are REALLY beards
fixing my website whenever it breaks
biology
hair
my math teacher
eyelids
the taste of lime
being half bald
cafeteria staff
nursing
the smell of oranges
liking things
hairlessness
paintings
the sounds of stickiness
when people think i have a "voice" [i'm way flattered]
matter-of-fact tones
sea squirts
birthdays
nursing students
chicken legs
fuzzy fuzzy blankets
clean laundry
the sounds of shuffling paper
theaters
milk
seltzer
turtles
grass
water
the texture of canvas
the word sea
gross monsters
sea creatures
the smell of pine
lakes
calla lillies
the feeling of freshly shaved legs
slimy little otters
the scent of baby powder
waves
laying with your head in the sand so that the waves come in and touch the shell of your ear and they are so cold and clear that you think you must be dreaming but then the sun burns your retinas and you know you are awake
docks
ripples
bicycles
boats
the sound of marbles hitting each other
Anna
the sound of running water
dogs
rivers
oceans
seas
loyalty
septum piercings
long, awkward noodles that hang out of your mouth and then you have to decide whether to slurp them up or bite them in half
ice cubes
the notion of innocence or purity
craaaazy people
feeling well
Bill Clinton
making earrings
being a really good swimmer
sunflowers
black eyed susans
CHEESE
Star Wars
Star Wars an a capella tribute to John Williams
Obama
making paper cranes
the smell of fires
free samples
my roommate's interesting notions of the cosmos
not having to live all by myself
and
being able to appreciate
whenever i awake with a clear thought in my head, i have this weird little compulsion to write it down, word for word, and then save it forever.
here are some examples:
who am i? i'm wonderbrawoman!
Sarah School! …where irony is practiced daily.
today’s lesson –How to describe someone objectively
____________________________________________
1) List their #1 best trait and their #1 worst trait
2) Create a sentence with the information you have gathered. If you like the person, put their best trait last. If you don’t like them, put it first.
FRED: I have a temper.
and the dandelions from far away looked almost like black-eyed susans.
HE LOOKED IT UP:
Avant Guarde – absolutely! It says here: a place where everybody thinks first and foremost about linoleum.
Chewy blanket.
We’re short on ideas… (eat away the disease please)
…braid your hairy teeth
…stew thoughts in the ditch of death
Death pot. Nice. You smell like feet.
I’ve seen x-rays. I look much better without my skin on. Really! I have a nice skull.
paperchip
do you see god?
goddammit why don’t you see god? If you could, maybe I could too. we would be together like a boat and water and we would understand one another and we might even have something to die for
for not about <3
and fried bubblegum
are you a spider?
WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO SAY? I’ll make something up. Little prolific me.
I hate life.
haha. a skunk? i had to go home to wind down!!!!!!!!
You must do so immediately, lest you cease existing and turn into porridge!
i really want a hedgehog.
you know that your diagnosis is correct when the perscribed cure for the given diagnosis is sucessfully applied
i sort fungus for a living
and then my cup committed suicide
do you know what i'm talking about it is really stupid and makes you want to smush daisies
you left me in a burrito lurch with an expensive headache
jackson pollock with his paint dabs and dollocks took a ride to the hillock to see a Swanee
hell no.
Sarah slept thru sex ed and thought she had cervical cancer.
flatworms poop out of their mouths
wish i was a fish
a flesh eating virus
or a communicable disease
daily-esque
Kunstler Script is the way i want my writing to look
you'd just best not look at yo hens before they turn into chickens
um, yeah. i'm actually not supposed to kill stuff that's alive that much.
i'm actually a stranger to pill buoyancy... hmm
these are the delirious texts.
(more delirious lyrics)
Three days ago, when D. Stirling and I were picking our way thru the jungle of garbage that had accumulated around the house on Braeburn and Fourth, she said something to me that pulled blood into my cheeks to the point at which I had to turn away. So many people had died, and so little help had been given. We were too far away to help our family out any, her and I, as if we weren’t too entangled in our own affairs to begin with. It is not the time to delve into the frequently-astonishing details of our relationship; my cousin Sarah will doubtlessly record it at one point or another (she thinks she is the family scribe). D. said that we were Too Far North, and that We Should Travel Sometime. She may as well have lit a fire beneath my holey blue Keds.
I haven’t had an anger problem for long. It has been about three months since the hurricane, and in all that time I haven’t seen David. David was a scoundrel and a player of many (less than savory) practical jokes, but we had almost been at the point of admitting our mutual need for companionship. D. would not understand, I thought, she was still alive.
I kept thinking, too, about how long people could go without water. I knew it was only a couple of days, and wondered why the idiotic government-funded relief program hadn’t considered that.
Anyway, I was done with D. I rounded on her and said, Look, Why Don’t You Drop What You’re Doing And Get Out Of Here? People Like You Wouldn’t Need This Done Anyway.
Her lower lip stuck out. I wanted to stomp on it. She said with a quiver, I Wouldn’t Want Trash Strewn In My Yard, Especially If I Was Trying To Go Back To School. I had to stop looking at her, and so I took my big, wet trash bag around back and dumped it next to the others. I pushed in the rear screen door (the lock on it hadn’t worked for years) and let it bang shut behind me. I thought that Aunt Arleta and Aunt Lois had lucked out, in a way. Their house wasn’t gone, unlike David’s. They were both old as dirt, while David had been younger than I. They were both still around, living on the pale edge of destruction.
The air was warm and close for a November afternoon. I unstuck the door of the old green icebox to see if there was something cool to drink. The smell that greeted me reminded me that they still didn’t have power down here. I was hit with a wave of nostalgia then… David and I had gotten tired of our cousin Sarah’s elbow in our ribs and her snide remarks that she couldn’t get her own clumsy tongue around (not to mention the fact that we had recently been forced to admit that she was a faster swimmer than either of us) and we had stuck her in the icebox for a moment, hoping she might chill out. We walked out of the room and listened to her scream and pound on the inside of the refrigerator. When she was quiet, we opened the door to let her out. She hit David’s face so hard that his nose bled on and off for the rest of the day. David deserved what he got, he had planned and orchestrated the whole thing while I stood on and cackled at his youthful perverseness. But I don’t think I deserved the glare she gave me when she said You’ll Pay For That. I couldn’t fathom why she hadn’t been glaring at him. She stayed home to throw away my good binoculars the next time David and I drove down to the dock. She must have known that bird-watching had been my only source of joy for the majority of my life.
Of course, I couldn’t have guessed how angry I would be now that David was gone.
D.’s eyes were big and round and demanding, and she stood less than three inches away from me. She was talking, and I was staring at her protruding sternum, wondering if I should smash it with my knuckles. I had looked at it many times before, wondering why hers stuck out so much, wondering why her shirts were always cut low enough that it showed, wondering mostly why she was my cousin.
Mark! Mark, What Did I Just Say To You? Were You Even Listening To Me?
I must have muttered something about how I didn’t want to know and that she should just get the hell out of my face, because all of a sudden she was right in my face. She was so close that I could not speak without our lips meeting, so I clenched my teeth and reached behind me. I swung my arm towards her in an arc, all but crushing her ear with the phone, then pulled my face away and said Listen!
She said, I Don’t Hear Anything.
No Dial Tone???
Nothing.
I dropped the receiver and snagged the cord with all of my fingers, winding it around them like dental floss. Why Don’t They Have A Dial Tone? I demanded. They’re Old Women.
She said softly, Neither Of Them Know How To Use A Telephone Anyway.
Girl looks at man manning the machine allowing entrance into the school cafeteria. Man says he likes her hair, which, weirdly, girl hears a lot since she shaved half of her head. Man gives her a broad smile that doesn't cause his steady eyes to wrinkle, girl feels queasy. She says thank you quickly and follows her roommate into the golden dumpster pavilion, in search of something satiable that won't upset her alimentary canal. She settles for some crusty veggie meatballs and leftover rice that is full of sweet morsels, perhaps fermented fruit. The chocolate milk is good, she thinks. Her roommate settles for a biscuit. Girl feels guilty eating as her roommate waits, so she doesn't quite finish.
Towards the end of the road on a Sunday, girl squirms in the back seat. She stresses the world (her parents) out with her fears; she doesn't want to learn how to drive and they must drive her to school, a chore they do not look forward to. She holds her pee for the last half-hour, not wanting to delay her parents further.
Late on a school night, girl is walking to her best friend's house in the dark. Her best friend wants to hang out. She doesn't but can't think up a good, honest excuse not to and so trudges over there, trying to ignore her fear of Richmond's night alleys. Girl's best friend would scoff at her fears. Girl knows that if you happen to get shot, there is no period to withdraw with a mark of "W." Girl knows you can't change your mind about being out that night you got raped.
Girl runs her hands up and down boy's bare back, trying to pretend he is someone else. She knows she can only fall in love if she stops being a snob, and she wants so badly to be in love, even though he doesn't love her back. Boy apologizes for her all-too-apparent lack of orgasm; girl mutters that it's nothing personal. Later she wonders how it slipped her mind that he was in high-school. She feels bad enough to play the sick-in-love puppy until he ignores her.
Girl cuts off a lock of her hair nightly now, knowing that she can fly when she is weightless. She lies down in bed and probes her ribs with her close-cut fingernails. Girl wonders if her inheritance, that reliable friend osteoporosis, has set in yet. She knows that birds have hollow bones. She knows that long bones have medullary cavities.
Girl checks her cellular telephone regularly to see if her sister has called her. She delights in her sister's presence, eternally hard to please and yet completely logical for being so. Her sister accuses her of never calling. Girl apologizes, knowing that she cannot bring herself to intrude on her sister's intellectual routine, which far outweighs her own piddly schooling.
Girl squints at the ground seventeen stories below, trying to guess if there is a person down there. When she decides there is not, she lobs her heavy Anatomy textbook at the framed glass, bolted closed. She watches it turn into a million diamond butterflies which dissolve to join the city lights, leaving glass dust on her roommate's desk. She runs her finger over the small empty spot on the desk, lightly feeling the sharp edges, delighting in their potential for danger and their heavy, scraping voices. She feels the building stir, moaning with delight at the first sweet breeze under its cap since the start of the working years.
Girl has not eaten all day and knows that she is lighter than the rare, unchlorinated waters which feel like a carpal-tunnel release to her bland body. She hops up on the sill and perches, remaining glass stalagmites grinding though her biceps femoris muscles and scraping the ischial tuberosities of her os coxae. Nothing is more beautiful than Monroe Park from this angle. Girl wishes she were selfless enough to tear her eyes from the view long enough to fetch her camera so that others could see it as well, in all its digital regenerative glory. She rests her cheek against the windowframe's glass teeth, massaging her newly exposed teeth with their definite, unyielding shapes she envies so.
Approaching hypovolemia, girl feels guilty for her potential mess on the sidewalk, but decides to do something for herself for once. She has written her anticipations of this moment, hoping to posthumously share her pleasure. Girl looks outwards, sightlessly touching the cool night glass by her open face. Then, girl flies.
Beauty on the Bus
we are rushing by earth, windows revealing nothing.
inside. the red nail lacquer, the sorry face
the rows of hands, almost touching. A boy with a dollar sign on the back of his hand in red pen that is only partially washed off. The man with the business suit in front of me has his thumb and third finger holding the pole behind him, which he presses into his spine. His other fingers fan out, a sculpture for an instant. Amidst the patchwork of khaki business raingear and red ties...
the young woman with an amber ring on her insulting finger. That ring had a dead insect in it. Her watch was made of snakes. like my mama's wedding ring