for every baby that is born, about .1 of a person dies. that is a serious problem, but we can't just not have babies, people are too fucking horny..SO i've decided that unbabies should be seriously considered. Instead of bringing a baby into the world,
they don't.
instead of making babies, or UNmaking babies, which is wrong (despite all the dead baby jokes i know) we make unbabies! yay. problem solved. (children of men anybody?)
30.4.08
american born - beginning of an essay
The story of racism in the U.S. is one that is intrinsically tied to the development of freedom. When people are free, they make their own decisions. Unfortunately, those decisions are often to the detriment of other humans; we act to benefit ourselves.
shining shoes of fury
If you ever come across someone whose shoes are blindingly beautiful, please, give a nod, finding that you've been noticed is a great feeling. When on the train, noticing that anyone enjoys the effort that you put into your appearence, no matter how small it is, feels good. Specially if your life is composed of school and not-sleep, running on empty gets filled slightly by the thought that you still have the good graces to pull in a couple admiring looks. so next time you see a girl walking by with a nice ass, a guy sitting on the subway with awesome jeans, even a dog with a chill collar, give a nod, let em know, cause no one minds being told they look good.
29.4.08
schoolin'
I have ceased to understand the purpose of being "educated" to simply sit in school and get taught things that will have absolutely no bearing on the life that you will live. It makes no sense to me. Instead of restricting our prime years of life indoors getting taught what is consider "educational" we should have a much less restricted adolescence. Students should learn all types of things during the growing up period of time when we are teenagers and young adults. Instead of learning things that are useful to our lives, we are taught how to sit around all day.
the price of peppers
once again, i have been up all night, writing, and not writing, for a single class. Creating an exposition on one subject, an involved creation that delves into the essence of a stupid idea. I will never need to remember what this paper is about ever again. What a stupid thing.
28.4.08
oh no!
i'm trying to write a paper, i need to be up in 20 minutes to get ready for school, i can hear the birds singing, i'm halfway done. oh what a twisted life i live.
mm? mikey like?
this one is french.
From a little ways back, i put it about january, freshman year.
pour les idées qui sont emprisonné dans ma tête,
je perds ma cerveau,
étre plein des mémoires,
l'amour qui m'a taquiné,
a dancé avec moi,
et laissé me se penchant,
pour tombes une autre fois,
pour ces yeux brun,
clairs et foncé,
comme le fleuve qui traverse
mon âme isolé et seul.
for all those NON-french ppl, here's an internet translation with my modification where ridiculous:
for the ideas which are imprisoned in my head,
i lose my brain,
being (to be) full with the memories,
the love which teased me,
danced with me,
and left me leaning,
to fall another time,
for those eyes brown,
lights and dark (clear and deep),
as the river which crosses my heart insulated and only (isolated and alone).
From a little ways back, i put it about january, freshman year.
pour les idées qui sont emprisonné dans ma tête,
je perds ma cerveau,
étre plein des mémoires,
l'amour qui m'a taquiné,
a dancé avec moi,
et laissé me se penchant,
pour tombes une autre fois,
pour ces yeux brun,
clairs et foncé,
comme le fleuve qui traverse
mon âme isolé et seul.
for all those NON-french ppl, here's an internet translation with my modification where ridiculous:
for the ideas which are imprisoned in my head,
i lose my brain,
being (to be) full with the memories,
the love which teased me,
danced with me,
and left me leaning,
to fall another time,
for those eyes brown,
lights and dark (clear and deep),
as the river which crosses my heart insulated and only (isolated and alone).
possibly the greatest feat of photography ever
Yes, it has been captured. sometimes known as "rusty-Hulk" this phenomenom has rarely been seen by a survivor. This cameraman was fortunate in capturing the instant of the transformation, before all matter in the nearby area was destroyed by it's awesome power.please enjoy.
what's that
this is an homage to my cat AND Elizabeth angles, the one true master of the world
what's that?
IT'S A TRAP!
what's that?IT'S A TRAP!
27.4.08
26.4.08
smoke and mirrors
i open my eyes and look beside me. There she is, cutting of the circulation to my arm, painfully present. She moans in her sleep and rolls away from me. I put my hand on her should and she wakes up, looking over at my tired eyes. i pull her close, feeling her arms slide around my waist, feeling her head rest on my arm. i look down at her, she looks up at me, slowly i place my lips against her cheek, pressing them in a gesture of love more than an expression of it. she giggles, biting my chin playfully. her arms slide up my back to pull my shoulders down further, till we're lying face to face, our breathe only one mingling warmth. i slowly ease my lips to the edge of her mouth, and i kiss the corner of her mouth. Slowly trailing nipping kisses down the side of her face to her neck, down her neck to the one bare shoulder that shines out from under my shirt. she giggles again, playfully pushing me away. I raise my working mouth to her face again, feeling out the shape of her eyes, her nose, her ears, and finally her mouth with mine. I slowly ease my lips against hers, tasting every moment in more than time. Her tongue flits against my lips, dancing and tickling, teasing and torturing. i clamp my teeth on her top lip, she cries out against me, feeling my teeth pinch her hard. i let go and slowly leave bite marks down her chin, down her neck. down to the boundary of the shirt. i would stop there, but she moans a low moan of pleading, and slips out of my shirt, pulling my head towards her again. eagerly my lips meet with her bare flesh, slowly circling and spiraling inwards on her chest. Her entire body trembles as my tongue lightly brushes all over, gently caressing the raised skin of her right breast. she arches in pleasure, pressing up against me as my teeth gyrate gently, pinching and pressing. her breath leaks out of her mouth, i slowly let go and press my lips to the taut skin of her stomach, sliding my wet lips down till they reach her hip-bone. she gasps as my hand slides up the outside of her leg, slowly creeping up her side to reach her rock hard nipple. Tweaking and twisting; she gasps in a delicious mix of pleasure and pain that makes her arch once again, thrusting up into me uncontrollably. I flip her over, pressing her face into the pillow till she can barely breathe. she cries out as slip in between her legs, slowly stretching her hips apart until she can feel the heat from me radiating through her. i let her head up from the pillow, only to slip my arms underneath her, leaning over her till she can feel my weight pushing her back down into the bed, one finger slips into her mouth, feeling her wet tongue slipping around the rough tip. i moan in grateful pain as i can feel my skin stretch from anticipation. my other hand slips around her waist, lifting her entire body with my arm against me. sliding closer towards her, she can feel my strength and gasps, pressing against me, slowly rocking back and forth in desire. she lets my finger go with a breath, and i scrap my fingernails slowly down her neck, down her chest, over her breast, past her stomach till they latch onto her hips. I can't wait any longer as she gasps out
"i need you."
It takes all my concentration to shift slowly forward, fighting my lust with all my power. I'm rewarded by the shivers and trembles that rack her whole body, her longing for me as great as mine for her. she cries out as i touch her, the unexpected contact a welcome surprise. I move another inch forward, probing, feeling, touching, tasting. she cannot wait any longer and she slides her hips back, taking me completely. for a minute we lie there, and i slide my hand from around her hips, up to her head, pulling back on her long and sweat drenched hair, she gasps as i fill her even more, going deeper than she thought i would. i cannot resist, and i begin to rock my hips, back and forth, back and forth, never changing the distance between us. unconsciously her lips part, and she begins to pant, keeping time with her breath. i lower my head to her neck, clamping my jaws together with a piece of her skin between my teeth. She screams as she feels the pain, enjoying the sensation as much as any other. i stop moving, and slowly slide out partway, she feels me leaving, and moans in fear.
"no, don't.."
she manages to gasp out before i slam forward, sending a flood of pleasure that crashes through her veins like heroin, and just as deadly. She screams, the sound destroys any control i had left, and i power into her again, setting off another shriek of ecstasy. i hear her breath form words
"more..more"
Instead i slow down, letting her feel the entire length of me slide in and out at a snails pace, making her hips shiver and rotate with uncontrollable desire. i speed up, reaching down to her front with my strong right hand, pulling back her head with my left. slowly i pinch the skin of her nipple with two fingers, rotating them slowly, twisting back and forth, even as my hips slide , filling her more than completely, as she enfolds me and welcomes me. The warmth from my body spreads out, filling the room, as i feel in my toes the beginning of something. slowly my pace increases, even as i feel her heartbeat speed up. I stop, stretching her legs as far apart as possible, she cries out, i lock my arms around her waist, and roll to my back, bringing her up on top of me, lying back against my chest. She slowly slides up and down on rock, i feel every ounce of her slip down on top of me, and every piece of her warmth envelope me. the feeling in my toes has spread, i can feel it seeping up my legs, creeping down my arms, filling and fogging out my head. i moan with impatience. grabbing her hips and using strength not my own to lift her and pull her back to me, using her as an object. She screams with delicious fervor. no one word leaves her mouth as she rocks her hips back and forth, using my arms for her only support in this world. my whole body tingles with anticipation, unable to contain myself any longer, i cannot help it. My shout entwines with her delicious scream, echoing around our small room. my hands slide together till they meet. My eyes shoot open. I see only my scarred hands, my own bed, my own room. It was a dream.
"i need you."
It takes all my concentration to shift slowly forward, fighting my lust with all my power. I'm rewarded by the shivers and trembles that rack her whole body, her longing for me as great as mine for her. she cries out as i touch her, the unexpected contact a welcome surprise. I move another inch forward, probing, feeling, touching, tasting. she cannot wait any longer and she slides her hips back, taking me completely. for a minute we lie there, and i slide my hand from around her hips, up to her head, pulling back on her long and sweat drenched hair, she gasps as i fill her even more, going deeper than she thought i would. i cannot resist, and i begin to rock my hips, back and forth, back and forth, never changing the distance between us. unconsciously her lips part, and she begins to pant, keeping time with her breath. i lower my head to her neck, clamping my jaws together with a piece of her skin between my teeth. She screams as she feels the pain, enjoying the sensation as much as any other. i stop moving, and slowly slide out partway, she feels me leaving, and moans in fear.
"no, don't.."
she manages to gasp out before i slam forward, sending a flood of pleasure that crashes through her veins like heroin, and just as deadly. She screams, the sound destroys any control i had left, and i power into her again, setting off another shriek of ecstasy. i hear her breath form words
"more..more"
Instead i slow down, letting her feel the entire length of me slide in and out at a snails pace, making her hips shiver and rotate with uncontrollable desire. i speed up, reaching down to her front with my strong right hand, pulling back her head with my left. slowly i pinch the skin of her nipple with two fingers, rotating them slowly, twisting back and forth, even as my hips slide , filling her more than completely, as she enfolds me and welcomes me. The warmth from my body spreads out, filling the room, as i feel in my toes the beginning of something. slowly my pace increases, even as i feel her heartbeat speed up. I stop, stretching her legs as far apart as possible, she cries out, i lock my arms around her waist, and roll to my back, bringing her up on top of me, lying back against my chest. She slowly slides up and down on rock, i feel every ounce of her slip down on top of me, and every piece of her warmth envelope me. the feeling in my toes has spread, i can feel it seeping up my legs, creeping down my arms, filling and fogging out my head. i moan with impatience. grabbing her hips and using strength not my own to lift her and pull her back to me, using her as an object. She screams with delicious fervor. no one word leaves her mouth as she rocks her hips back and forth, using my arms for her only support in this world. my whole body tingles with anticipation, unable to contain myself any longer, i cannot help it. My shout entwines with her delicious scream, echoing around our small room. my hands slide together till they meet. My eyes shoot open. I see only my scarred hands, my own bed, my own room. It was a dream.
anonymous?
because the simple fact exists; that all we do in this world is die. What does that mean about the rest of us? What is the difference between me dieing and my brother dieing. What is the difference between my mom and my dad dieing. Would i be just as sad for both? would it be a different sadness. would it hit me in 5 years, like with my grandfather, when suddenly i realised who he was, and what he did. Would i be dry-eyed throughout the whole ordeal like my whole life, collapsing not in tears but in questions. Will i lose everything first? or will everything lose me? My thoughts often turn to death, as often as they turn to life. What is it all worth? do they equal out on the scales? if so does that make life not WORTH anything. not in a morbid sense, life is definately worth living, at least for a while, for the good parts and the bad, for the thrills and the kills, but does living in itself bring something into the world? or should it be our job to bring something more to the world that we're living in, before we cease to live in it.
people live in the world,
they leave it when they're exhausted.
Do most people hang onto life because they're afraid of death? that's ok. Who knows what it'll be like to know that you're dieing, will i want to keep living? or will i be resigned, or will i simply refuse to accept that this is the end. If i had the choice to save a kid for my own life, would i do it? yes. Would i instantly dive to pick him up in front of a truck? probably, would i be willing to sacrifice my life for the POSSIBILITY of saving someone else? that i cannot know. Does it matter if they're old? does saving someone who suffers a heart attack and dies the next day matter? or in that one day do they live out their life to the fullest extent possible. Is one day in one man's life equal to a hundred in someone elses? can we qualify life? death?
how can things shift so much that we change our opinions on elemental subjects.
I don't think that pondering the concept as well as the necessity of death is emo or morbid, but if i had a discussion with almost any teacher, i'm sure i would be recommended for therapy, which would teach me what? Therapy is possibly one of the most useless jobs i know for my generation. Either the kids are so fucked up, and all they really need is someone who they can trust, which is not necissarily someone who gets paid for the knowledge of fuck-ups that they've accrued, OR, the kid needs a serious change of environment, someone whose circumstances have driven their self-determination to near extinction. Almost every other category of "problem" kids are not affected by therapy, either refusing to let the therapist into their life, or lieing about things, or coming to false realizations, all number of difficulties can arise.
My ponderance must end, because my human body draws me back into the real world, and i'm fucking HUNGRY.
people live in the world,
they leave it when they're exhausted.
Do most people hang onto life because they're afraid of death? that's ok. Who knows what it'll be like to know that you're dieing, will i want to keep living? or will i be resigned, or will i simply refuse to accept that this is the end. If i had the choice to save a kid for my own life, would i do it? yes. Would i instantly dive to pick him up in front of a truck? probably, would i be willing to sacrifice my life for the POSSIBILITY of saving someone else? that i cannot know. Does it matter if they're old? does saving someone who suffers a heart attack and dies the next day matter? or in that one day do they live out their life to the fullest extent possible. Is one day in one man's life equal to a hundred in someone elses? can we qualify life? death?
how can things shift so much that we change our opinions on elemental subjects.
I don't think that pondering the concept as well as the necessity of death is emo or morbid, but if i had a discussion with almost any teacher, i'm sure i would be recommended for therapy, which would teach me what? Therapy is possibly one of the most useless jobs i know for my generation. Either the kids are so fucked up, and all they really need is someone who they can trust, which is not necissarily someone who gets paid for the knowledge of fuck-ups that they've accrued, OR, the kid needs a serious change of environment, someone whose circumstances have driven their self-determination to near extinction. Almost every other category of "problem" kids are not affected by therapy, either refusing to let the therapist into their life, or lieing about things, or coming to false realizations, all number of difficulties can arise.
My ponderance must end, because my human body draws me back into the real world, and i'm fucking HUNGRY.
grandfather's eyes
sunk deep into his old, lined face,
gleaming through tired shells,
i can see the beauty in his eyes.
the ancient pain and hope and love,
shining through layers of dusty memories,
deserving every tear and laugh,
remembering smiles, hands,
knowing what he is looking at,
old hands shape the dead wood,
curving and lining the surface,
not allowed to move because,
I'm sitting silent and still,
for my grandfather's eyes.
gleaming through tired shells,
i can see the beauty in his eyes.
the ancient pain and hope and love,
shining through layers of dusty memories,
deserving every tear and laugh,
remembering smiles, hands,
knowing what he is looking at,
old hands shape the dead wood,
curving and lining the surface,
not allowed to move because,
I'm sitting silent and still,
for my grandfather's eyes.
25.4.08
suffering
there is no such suffering as I am going through right now. I have a headache larger than anything, and my allergies make me feel as if i cannot move without my head exploding. Nothing seems to help at all. On top of all the work that I was supposed to do, and all the work that i AM supposed to do now, this is not what i need. In addition to the physical ramifications of not sleeping for a couple days now (see previous sentence for the reasons). I cannot concentrate on anything, so my mind drifts through all of my past emotions and experiences. The crazy part about insomnia, whether it's real or forced (like mine out of caffiene), is that you are never really sure if you're dreaming or awake, and everything feels ethereal, as if i could blink and someone would appear, or i would be back in vietnam or my home or Julia's house or anywhere. It feels as if i was dancing on the paper edge of reality, and i can feel it cutting my feet ever so slightly every time i move, but i need to keep moving because those burning lines on my feet are the only thing that i know is real, is the truth. I cannot even listen to music now, my head hurts so much, it rivals my body's pain from being awake for so long. If you do not sleep for too long, your muscles begin to go into overproduction, producing more muscle to defend yourself as your normal muscle mass becomes less and less effective without rest. i wonder what would happen if you didn't sleep for a year. I think that i'm looking for a way to snap, but i don't know what or where it is, hopefully it'll be some bitch teacher, who'll come up to me and tell me to do something, and i'll just pop off. That would be fun, even once i get in trouble for it. but i need to keep dancing, just like a monkey on a string, cause that's all we ever are.
23.4.08
lemme know..
if anyone knows how to upload music or videos from my comp, not just through links and shit. let me know please, i wanna throw some fucking Ds up and i cant.
this is my countryhouse
this is the sunset behind the hill out of the back of my countryhouse. It makes me feel like leaving Dalton even more. I think that some things cannot be conveyed by words, at least mine,so i have a bajillion pictures of sunsets and my cat etc. things that i simply cannot describe the idea that is that image using words.
22.4.08
sum of nothing
in math we learned that the product of nothing and anything is nothing, and the sum of nothing and anything is anything.
see below for sum of nothing
| | | |
\/ \/ \/ \/
see below for sum of nothing
| | | |
\/ \/ \/ \/
frozen ice
it's been a tough month. ever since i got back to this abysmal school-centered life it seems like everything i do is simply another way of trying to avoid realizing how much of my world is simply FORCED to be schooling. 7 hours a day, 5 days a week, 36 weeks a year...thems all majorities, so why do teachers insist on making me suffer even more? extra work, homework, bonus shit, and worse of all, knowing that i'm smart enough to get it all done.
Despite all that schooling, i've remained relatively free willy, except for the grounding by my parents for no real reason (but i don't pay attention to them anymore since all they care about is mah homework). Still been going out, causeing trouble and looking for it....but in a good way?
One of the harderst parts of life right now is reconciling myself with the fact that J now hates my guts more than anything else in this world, that's the hard part, the easy part is knowing why, or listening to her talk about all my problems, and examples of them and reasons that i'm stupid, or insecure, or immature, that i don't understand her, that we never had a relationship of any kind, that she pities me for being so far below her in emotional comprehension, that's the easy part.
Knowing that if i tell my parents everything that happens to me they'll still try to find a way to make me not the enemy, but that i should concentrate on school right now because its important.
In my small and isolated, ignorant, uneducated, foolish, childish world, it's not the school that makes me. But apparently, no one else lives in that world, if they did than maybe we'd be having a party right now, instead of me sitting by myself all alone under a pear tree.
Despite all that schooling, i've remained relatively free willy, except for the grounding by my parents for no real reason (but i don't pay attention to them anymore since all they care about is mah homework). Still been going out, causeing trouble and looking for it....but in a good way?
One of the harderst parts of life right now is reconciling myself with the fact that J now hates my guts more than anything else in this world, that's the hard part, the easy part is knowing why, or listening to her talk about all my problems, and examples of them and reasons that i'm stupid, or insecure, or immature, that i don't understand her, that we never had a relationship of any kind, that she pities me for being so far below her in emotional comprehension, that's the easy part.
Knowing that if i tell my parents everything that happens to me they'll still try to find a way to make me not the enemy, but that i should concentrate on school right now because its important.
In my small and isolated, ignorant, uneducated, foolish, childish world, it's not the school that makes me. But apparently, no one else lives in that world, if they did than maybe we'd be having a party right now, instead of me sitting by myself all alone under a pear tree.
addiction much
I'm addicted to DBZ. it is BADDDDD. i just can't not watch an ep or 5, or 10, or all 326...>.<
Shoes
This is a bad kid. The type that you walk by very quickly and look back a lot. One of those kids who make you think about how much money everything you’re wearing costs. The suitcase that you left at your friend’s house is probably worth more than all the clothes he owns. You don’t feel sorry for him; he’s poor for a reason. Calling him a kid makes you feel better, but he’s almost a man. He’s just a kid. No threat. His eyes glance at you, and you feel a chill, they aren’t one color. Not green, or blue, or grey. They change even as he turns away. You can’t get enough. Staring at him, you absorb every facet of his appearance. Then you notice the shoes, light brown with a stripe of green running across them, they look fresh from the box with their white laces unscuffed. They’re the only thing on him that looks like it cost more than 10$. A girl gets on at Fulton Street; she looks like she’s about 20. Instantly your gaze drops, making sure that her body is really as incredible as your peripheral vision told you. As she crosses the car to him and pulls the headphones off his ears, every male looks at her. He grins at her and then kisses her, almost causing a sigh of regret among the men in the car, but you just stand and watch as she snuggles into him, revealing that his body only takes up half the space inside of his sweatshirt. More kids get on, they all know him. You watch as the group gathers all types of kids, girls and guys, blacks, Asians, Latinos, whites, it doesn’t matter. He greets all of them, and they surround him. You keep looking at him, filled with envy. A seat opens up, and they let him sit down. The girl sits on his lap, shifting around until she’s sure he’s noticed her figure. He puts his head back and closes his eyes, and then you notice something. He’s the focus of their attention; he’s what draws them together. They worship and respect and love and like him, this bad kid. But he’s all alone. None of them really listen to him, that’s why they all follow him. You suddenly remember what he looked like, before they came. Isolated in his own world even in the midst of his friends. Another kid walks on, goes up to him, and lightly slaps him around the girl. His eyes open and he blinks a couple times at the kid standing in front of him. Suddenly a real smile lights up his face. You watch in amazement as he loses all of the threatening nature that you saw before. This friend opens his mouth, “Nice shoes.”
history
She’s staring at me. She’s staring at me again. I shift as her brown eyes bore into my thoughts. All my private imaginings become observed, qualified, judged, all in a sea of glistening brown.
“Pay attention in class please, daydream on your own time.”
“Sorry Mrs. Halper, I was thinking about the horror of the Jew’s persecution.”
“Then you should participate and share your ideas with the class.”
“Yes Mrs. Halper.”
My heart beats a little faster as I look back at her and see liquid hazel still pouring into my soul. I can’t take the pressure. I get up and walk to the door, muttering something about going to the bathroom. In the bathroom I turn on the water and plunge my head into the sink. The cold water washes away all my grogginess, eliminating m¥ doubt. My head dripping on the floor, I reel out the paper towel roll, winding it around my head till I look like a movie mummy from the neck up. As the water seeps down my shirt, my thoughts slide back to last night, and all that had happened. I left the bathroom, wondering how I was going to get through the day. She was in the hall, waiting for me as I came out.
“Hey,” She said, “What’s up?”
“Not too much, just hanging out, trying not to go to class.”
“What’s wrong, you’ve been weird.”
“Nothing, just looking for someplace to stay.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
“My parents are at home.” I said
“They’re fighting? I’m sorry.”
“No, they love each other, it’s me that’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand.” She said
“Please, it’s ok, just some problems in my life.”
“Tell me, it will make you feel better.”
“”I don’t think so, it’s not your problem.”
“Trust me on this one, you will feel better.”
“Ok,” I said, “I think they hate me.”
“That’s impossible, all parents love their children.”
“Well, not hate, but. They. I don’t think I’m good enough for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not good enough.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re wonderful.”
“Not to them, it has to do with my brother.” I said
“What about him! I thought he messed up in high school?” She said
“Sort of.”
“Well then, what’s your reasoning?”
“He’s an artist.”
“So? You do art too.”
“It’s different, not like him, not REAL art, painting and drawing.”
“Why does it matter?”
“My grandparents were artists.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My parents were born in art, born and bred.”
“My parents are lawyers, I don’t want to be one, and they aren’t going to make me.”
“But my brother is too, I’m the only one,” I said “I don’t even fit in my family.”
She looked at me for a long time, her eyes parceling me into all my little pieces. I felt naked; nothing now hid me from her, no lies. Truth is scary, and right now its viscous claws were digging into my vocal cords, as her eyes delved into my soul.
Ten minutes later we broke apart, the physical sign off affection reinforced the idea that I was worth something, at least more than the razor blade’s edge.
We walked along in awkward silence. I relished the tension as a sign that she really cared. A quick glance showed me that her brilliant mind was working. Probably examining every facet of me inside her brain and determining what I was worth to her. We stopped walking; having gone up the stairs and reached a decision. Almost saying something, she turned. Our eyes met, and a realization slowly dripped through me like the fake syrup you get at diners, slowly spreading till it reached my head.
I sent her back to class, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to stand it if she got a cut in history, especially because of me. I needed time to think. On the roof its peaceful, only the elevator room to keep you company with its thumps of people too lazy to walk up the stairs. Because of her, I knew that I could no longer leave, she was worth too much. So I made a decision.
The class was over when I went back. Mrs. Halper was angry, but a false upset stomach changed criticism to concern. With her dealt with, I went to the place I could always find her when she needed to think. Entering the library was a weird experience, having never been there this early before, it was empty, with only one small figure in the corner, curled up with a book. I walked up to her, and squished her curled up body into my chest. She squeaked. Somehow I managed to rig a grin onto my face, but I still probably looked like the devil had chewed me and then shat me out.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Are you ok?” she said
“No, I found something out.”
“What? Do you need my help?”
“Yes. I’m thinking of leaving home, I’ve got enough money to rent a place in the Bronx, and then I’ll figure it out from there. Get a job or something. I’m going to have to stop coming to Dalton. My parents can barely pay the reduced tuition; maybe if they don’t have to their opinion of me will go up. But now there’s another problem.”
“This is crazy.”
“What? People have run away before.”
“No, it’s not that. What’s the other problem?” She said
I looked up from my determined glare at the floor when she said that, not wanting to see her
eyes, to find what I knew was waiting for me there. Our eyes and thoughts met at the same time, her gaze showing me the truth again. I almost hit myself for being oblivious before, now there seemed nowhere to turn to escape her feelings. Her constant willingness to help me out no matter what her situation made sense. Somehow, I now had another attachment to this world that I so desperately wanted to escape. I wanted nothing more but to throw myself away, to a different place, or time, or life, but some human part in me resist the rejection, desired the feeling that she cared, that I was worthwhile to her at least. I said yes to her, answering the question in her eyes instead of the one that had come off her lips. Now I’m just as happy, and I can’t go anywhere.
“Pay attention in class please, daydream on your own time.”
“Sorry Mrs. Halper, I was thinking about the horror of the Jew’s persecution.”
“Then you should participate and share your ideas with the class.”
“Yes Mrs. Halper.”
My heart beats a little faster as I look back at her and see liquid hazel still pouring into my soul. I can’t take the pressure. I get up and walk to the door, muttering something about going to the bathroom. In the bathroom I turn on the water and plunge my head into the sink. The cold water washes away all my grogginess, eliminating m¥ doubt. My head dripping on the floor, I reel out the paper towel roll, winding it around my head till I look like a movie mummy from the neck up. As the water seeps down my shirt, my thoughts slide back to last night, and all that had happened. I left the bathroom, wondering how I was going to get through the day. She was in the hall, waiting for me as I came out.
“Hey,” She said, “What’s up?”
“Not too much, just hanging out, trying not to go to class.”
“What’s wrong, you’ve been weird.”
“Nothing, just looking for someplace to stay.”
“Why can’t you go home?”
“My parents are at home.” I said
“They’re fighting? I’m sorry.”
“No, they love each other, it’s me that’s the problem.”
“I don’t understand.” She said
“Please, it’s ok, just some problems in my life.”
“Tell me, it will make you feel better.”
“”I don’t think so, it’s not your problem.”
“Trust me on this one, you will feel better.”
“Ok,” I said, “I think they hate me.”
“That’s impossible, all parents love their children.”
“Well, not hate, but. They. I don’t think I’m good enough for them.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not good enough.”
“That’s ridiculous! You’re wonderful.”
“Not to them, it has to do with my brother.” I said
“What about him! I thought he messed up in high school?” She said
“Sort of.”
“Well then, what’s your reasoning?”
“He’s an artist.”
“So? You do art too.”
“It’s different, not like him, not REAL art, painting and drawing.”
“Why does it matter?”
“My grandparents were artists.”
“I don’t understand.”
“My parents were born in art, born and bred.”
“My parents are lawyers, I don’t want to be one, and they aren’t going to make me.”
“But my brother is too, I’m the only one,” I said “I don’t even fit in my family.”
She looked at me for a long time, her eyes parceling me into all my little pieces. I felt naked; nothing now hid me from her, no lies. Truth is scary, and right now its viscous claws were digging into my vocal cords, as her eyes delved into my soul.
Ten minutes later we broke apart, the physical sign off affection reinforced the idea that I was worth something, at least more than the razor blade’s edge.
We walked along in awkward silence. I relished the tension as a sign that she really cared. A quick glance showed me that her brilliant mind was working. Probably examining every facet of me inside her brain and determining what I was worth to her. We stopped walking; having gone up the stairs and reached a decision. Almost saying something, she turned. Our eyes met, and a realization slowly dripped through me like the fake syrup you get at diners, slowly spreading till it reached my head.
I sent her back to class, knowing that she wouldn’t be able to stand it if she got a cut in history, especially because of me. I needed time to think. On the roof its peaceful, only the elevator room to keep you company with its thumps of people too lazy to walk up the stairs. Because of her, I knew that I could no longer leave, she was worth too much. So I made a decision.
The class was over when I went back. Mrs. Halper was angry, but a false upset stomach changed criticism to concern. With her dealt with, I went to the place I could always find her when she needed to think. Entering the library was a weird experience, having never been there this early before, it was empty, with only one small figure in the corner, curled up with a book. I walked up to her, and squished her curled up body into my chest. She squeaked. Somehow I managed to rig a grin onto my face, but I still probably looked like the devil had chewed me and then shat me out.
“I think we need to talk.”
“Are you ok?” she said
“No, I found something out.”
“What? Do you need my help?”
“Yes. I’m thinking of leaving home, I’ve got enough money to rent a place in the Bronx, and then I’ll figure it out from there. Get a job or something. I’m going to have to stop coming to Dalton. My parents can barely pay the reduced tuition; maybe if they don’t have to their opinion of me will go up. But now there’s another problem.”
“This is crazy.”
“What? People have run away before.”
“No, it’s not that. What’s the other problem?” She said
I looked up from my determined glare at the floor when she said that, not wanting to see her
eyes, to find what I knew was waiting for me there. Our eyes and thoughts met at the same time, her gaze showing me the truth again. I almost hit myself for being oblivious before, now there seemed nowhere to turn to escape her feelings. Her constant willingness to help me out no matter what her situation made sense. Somehow, I now had another attachment to this world that I so desperately wanted to escape. I wanted nothing more but to throw myself away, to a different place, or time, or life, but some human part in me resist the rejection, desired the feeling that she cared, that I was worthwhile to her at least. I said yes to her, answering the question in her eyes instead of the one that had come off her lips. Now I’m just as happy, and I can’t go anywhere.
when they cry
When the wet damp tears fall,
splashing off skin and bone and flesh,
dripping through cloth and softening color,
making flames' cool distance disappear in steam,
until the heat is under my face,
seeping through every pore of my chin,
every aspect of my lips,
fighting to fill every crevice of my mouth.
Like a flower on a sunny day,
do girls dance in the grass?
or is love a show, put on for ignant mice,
scrounging for every scrap of bread
thrown like second-hand smoke to paupers and kids.
do Children dance to the tune of feet?
or do feet dance to child's tune?
can we decide the difference between uninterested and bored?
or are we simply to lazy to care.
when i feel those drops of damp skin,
does it mean that god can cry?
or is it all the age-old tears of slaves;
rolled to the seas and up to clouds,
and back again, to soothe my lonely, wandering feet.
splashing off skin and bone and flesh,
dripping through cloth and softening color,
making flames' cool distance disappear in steam,
until the heat is under my face,
seeping through every pore of my chin,
every aspect of my lips,
fighting to fill every crevice of my mouth.
Like a flower on a sunny day,
do girls dance in the grass?
or is love a show, put on for ignant mice,
scrounging for every scrap of bread
thrown like second-hand smoke to paupers and kids.
do Children dance to the tune of feet?
or do feet dance to child's tune?
can we decide the difference between uninterested and bored?
or are we simply to lazy to care.
when i feel those drops of damp skin,
does it mean that god can cry?
or is it all the age-old tears of slaves;
rolled to the seas and up to clouds,
and back again, to soothe my lonely, wandering feet.
what's cracking?
This is mah first time going for the blogging thing, but i figgered that it might be fun. trying it out and all that. prolly gonna use it as a journal/release for all the stuff that gets caught up inside, doesn't that sound like fun? also i'm going to try to get some pictures of beautiful places and things up, and sometimes something that i've written (as in a piece) will pop up in an entry or something, show me some love in the form of critical feedback, its ok whatever you say.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
