Posts Tagged ‘Where I End and “I” Begins’

Your Day

October 28 2009

Time is a Game Only Children Play Well

 

8 AM Wake up, it’s too late to go to work and you fall back asleep.

8:26 Wake up, and fall back asleep

9:14 Wake up, start to jerk off a little, but aimlessly.

9:18 Fighting sleep, you try to narrativize some lost opportunity from your past. In this alternate erotic continuity you successfully slayed (slew?) the twin beasts of ambivalence, cowardice, and sexual incompetence,1 and by some miracle spontaneously generated enough confidence and charisma to be able to…

9:19 Fall back to sleep.

9:26 Dream about Daylight Savings Time. Imaging it was actually, by government proclamation, 8:26 right now, and you were back in your bed waking up and falling back to sleep. Nice dream.

10:50 Ok. Time to quit dicking around and wake up for keeps.

10:52 Ok. Time to quit dicking around and get out of bed for keeps.

10:57 Ok. Time to quit dicking around and not fall back to sleep on the toilet. That shit is gross. Lowell.

10:59 Shower. You can save money by limiting yourself to EITHER soap OR shampoo. Added Bonus: returns some much needed luster, curl, and bounce to heretofore listless and gnarled thigh and ass hair.

11:13 Whoa. Lost 7 minutes. Came to with pruned (face) cheeks. Gross. Also, weird.

11:14 to 11:22:24(seconds) You time your teethbrushing to the time it takes to listen to “In The Arms of Sleep” twice. It’s the only way to get a thorough clean/Billy’s voice figuratively melts plaque. Also: Vaccines are for pussies, heretics.

11:20 Start making breakfast. First step? Figuring out what not to eat by examining what you last ate. Scrape it up, Billy!

11:22:25(seconds) Ok, what’s the plan? Pancakes and Waffles? * bowls of cereal?2 le Gaston? Oui!

11:23 Only have 2 ½ eggs, not sixty.3 Settle for a “Mrs. Potts” (a kettlesworth of tea, drank out of something alive).

11:25 In lieu of bags with leaves in them, invent a new kind of tea– Smashed NyQuil Gel Caps, Brown and Fallen Oak Leaves, and Freshly Scraped Those Weird Red Stains That Keep Accruing on the Bathroom Ceiling. It tastes like Fertilizer.

11:28 If the Internet has supplanted the newspaper, then what replaces the crossword as something to distract your eyes/brain with while the rest of your face does something stupid? Team Fortress 2.

12:00 PM One more match.

12:28 One more match.

12:48 One more.

1:31 One…

2:19 Ugh. This tea is cold. While that’s in the microwave…

3:04 Ok. Neighbor finally closed their wireless. First things first– you should probably find a new job.

3:07 Ok. It’s not “password” and “admin/admin1” doesn’t work. Time to head downtown and find somewhere to work.

3:40 Undress the mannequins at Macy’s with your eyes.

3:43 Undress the mannequins at Macy’s with your hands.

3:48 Dress down mall security with your words.

3:49 It’s not working. Quick– close your eyes, mouth, mucus membranes– here comes their rebuttal!

3:56 Your eyes are awfully peppery. You’re in no shape to interview for a job. Time to drive around town looking for free things on the side of the road.

4:21 Lesson: just because it’s in someone’s yard doesn’t mean it is up for grabs. Floor it!

4:49 Home again. Change out of your clothes and take a shower and try to forget the parts where you ever left your house.

4:57 Stand nude, dripping for three minutes so as to avoid the stigma of putting pajama pants on before 5:00.

5:00 The clock strikes the best second of the day– you get to put on pants AND it’s cocktail hour? Trifecta! Mix a whiskey and apple soda (Sidral Mundet), sit in your rocking chair, and count your blessing.

5:06 Have another.

5:11 And another. (This rocking chair is getting awfully comfortable).

5:14 All out of Sidral, what’s left? Olive oil? Milk?

5:18 Have another.

8 PM Wake up, it’s too early to go to bed, fall back to sleep.

9:09 Wake up, it, and fall back to sleep.

9:35 You’re sleeping still, you think, but your eyes are open and you can think. You don’t move and in the dark you lie back and recognize every piece of furniture or appliance you can recognize. You give them names. You re-invent the room as you methodically scan it from behind fixed eyeballs. You whisper a few code words/revelations/names that should mean more, all of which you forget when you…

10:27 Wake up for keeps. (Or at least borrows).

10:27 You listen to Carole King’s Tapestry album, three times.

11:41 While placing the pin down for a second spin of the second side, a drop of water forms on the vinyl. It tastes slightly of salt but, after tasting, there is not enough left for you to test its spontaneous composition with your chemistry set. Drop.

11:42 You’ve got a friend.

12:26 You’ve got a friend.

 

 

 

1Triplet beasts, really– more of a Cerberus deal.

2= Capital Eight = eight brimming bowls of the stuff.

32 whites, 3 yolks.

I Thought I Was Being Romantic

August 28 2009

I Thought I Was Being Romantic

Pathetic tales of misguided sincerity

I Told my boss she could adopt me and then everyone started joking around and laughing!”

– Barry, 49

 

I Called my teacher ‘mommy,’ now everyone is calling me ‘faggot’! And laughing!”

– Li’l Keith, 8

 

I Tried to caress my girlfriend’s face while gazing into her eyes; she laughed so hard I slipped out! Again!”

– Arnold, 23

 

I Bought her eight white roses to celebrate the eight months we’ve temped together. And when I watched the FedEx guy deliver them to her house, she and her husband laughed so hard I dropped my binoculars, almost fell out of the tree! (They broke on impact! Just like my heart!)!/.”

– Martin, 36

 

I Sent sheep to the slaughter, thinking that that must be love. I told her that I told her that I loved her because it was easier than saying goodbye; I told her that she was playing out of her depth, akin to a little girl trying on her older sibling’s wardrobe. And then I laughed at her!”

– Elvis, 261

 

I Wrote her poems: three hundred and seventy nine poems! One haiku each day, one major work each month, one year long epic in blank verse. And when I handed them to her– in calfskin, bound– on the occasion of our last day of High School, she laughed at me! Now she’ll know I was real! Threeee Huunnndred Aand Sevvventyyy Niiiiiiine! It was a leeap yearrrrrrrrrrrr! Rrrrrrrrr!rrrrrr! rr.”

– Brian, 17, leaping

 

I Baked a cake in the shape of her childhood photograph– the one where she didn’t know how to swim. It was a real cake, too– not one of those spun sugar sprayjobs that look like they’d dissolve in the rain. I baked a three-going-on-four dimensional cake in tribute to that one moment: solid, and real, and to quintuple scale. Each detail was re-created in minute perfection and even the air. I baked the air. I baked a perfect simulacrum of that tinge of chlorine and sunscreen and inflatable swimmies and spandex. I baked her father, off to the side, not-pictured; I baked the score of that days Yankees game. And Then Later, when I had finished baking, I remembered that I was trapped, and that however desperately I tried to eat my way out, I would be here forever, accompanied by the dim echo of splashes, and the unmistakable sound of a child’s  laughter!”

– Doug, Infinity/R.I.Cake

 

I Asked her to dance; she said no! Then she laughed and then I laughed! Now we are married, except she is dead.”

– Ed, 79

 

I Thought at you so hard every time we caught eyes, sat near, talked, or typed. Whenever we occupied the same (or similar) space a song would play in my head, back of the neck, heart, and bones, and– by thinking it hard enough at you– I thought I could somehow convey exactly, precisely what I couldn’t say!

It didn’t work!”
– A Sad and Stupid Crazy Person, 1,878

 

 

 

 

1“I Made a “Brilliant Mistake,” although, at the time, it was a fine idea; a woman on the news was really dumb!”

– Declan, 31