Do you mind if I’m a little fragmented today?… Oh man, I don’t even know how to excerpt this post because I have no idea what it’s about! Sorry… forgive me… I’ll be cohesive tomorrow, I promise.
...read more hereBetty said she prayed today
For the sky to blow away
Or maybe stay
She wasn’t sure.
The strange part about it is that he’s walking around the kitchen now as I type this in the adjacent room. I’d say I’m tempted to ask about the aforementioned incidents, but I’m a little nervous that they might be true. If they are, then I don’t know who that stranger is who is claiming to be my father.
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Because I desire companionship.
Because we are joined at the hip
and it never tells me to “ease up off.”
Because the computer lab is going to close in half an hour and my mind is too dead from freelancing all day to come up with anything terribly original… all praise be to the gods of memes who are providing you with this evening’s post:
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I think I watched the door. There’s not much else to watch before service begins. I don’t know what I was looking for. I knew who was going to be there. Sister So-and-so, Brother So-and-so, Deacon So-and-so, and other characters all dressed and sanctimonious, carrying bibles and greeting each other like “Praise Him, sister!” when they want to say “good morning.” I wasn’t watching for them, of course. I knew what to say to them. “Good morning” is the extent of most of our conversation.
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At the same time, I could see myself, only white and balding and fifteen years older, holding on tightly to someone else’s kids, to a metrocard, to a pillow, to a job, to an inanimate intangible thing, to a blogroll, to a bottle of alcohol… to a guitar student who can’t pay for her lessons…
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I know what you want to hear about and I don’t want to talk about it right now. I’ll tell you all about it tomorrow. I’m just too angry at every goddamned body right now, and really wishing there was somebody to hold me…
...read more hereSo what does that mean? It means I’m going to get old. Not that I have an intrinsic issue with age, mind, as most of my friends are older than I am. My older friends don’t like when I say things like this. They say “if you’re old then what the hell am I?” My answer is usually “mature”… except in the case where the person is not indeed mature. In which case the answer is silence with an implied “pathetic.” But that’s the issue: I don’t want to be old and pathetic.
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Is this cheating? I didn’t write a poem for you this week ::boo! hiss!:: but here is one I wrote years and years ago when I was a child. I’m glad I kept it. I think I was a better writer back then, haha.
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