Let me get my hands on your mammary glands

Jan 19, 2005 15:30

Work today was horrid. Horrid! I saw Brittany and Mike though. Mike! He's so cute, I love him. Christina and Carlos stopped by work to say hi last night. They make a cute couple. Jessica's birthday was Monday. I hope it was an excellent one. I had a good time at her party on Friday. Lots of laughs and puking and hooking up. Annie, Alex, Dan and I all left really early in the morning b/c none of us could sleep. Or maybe Dan did sleep? I'm Ron Burgandy? Anyway, I didn't even think to bring my New Kids on the Block sleeping bag or any pillows. It was still dark out when we left and I managed to get lost and I was convinced we were in a bad area and that we were all going to die. And Estevan is a savage.

I finished The Perks of Being a Wallflower. That is an excellent book. Thank you Lauren for suggesting I buy it. Now it's Fear of Flying by Erica Jong and she talks a lot about "cunts" and "zipless fucks" among other things. Anyway, in the Perks of Being a Wallflower, there's a poem. I've never read one like it before.


Once on a yellow piece of paper with green lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Chops"
because that was the name of his dog
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and a gold star
And his mother hung it on the kitchen door
and read it to his aunts
That was the year Father Tracy
took all the kids to the zoo
And he let them sing on the bus
And his little sister was born
with tiny toenails and no hair
And his mother and father kissed a lot
And the girl around the corner sent him a
Valentine signed with a row of X's
and he had to ask his father what the X's meant
And his father always tucked him in bed at night
And was always there to do it.

Once on a piece of white paper with blue lines
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Autumn"
because that was the name of the season
And that's what it was all about
And his teacher gave him an A
and asked him to write more clearly
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because of its new paint
And the kids told him
that Father Tracy smoked cigars
And left butts on the pews
And sometimes they would burn holes
That was the year his sister got glasses
with thick lenses and black frames
And the girl around the corner laughed
when he asked her to go see Santa Claus
And the kids told him why
his mother and father kissed a lot
And his father never tucked him in bed at night
And his father got mad
when he cried for him to do it.

Once on a paper torn from his notebook
he wrote a poem
And he called it "Innocence: A Question"
because that was the question about his girl
And that's what it was all about
And his professor gave him an A
and a strange steady look
And his mother never hung it on the kitchen door
because he never showed her
That was the year that Father Tracy died
And he forgot how the end
of the Apostle's Creed went
And he caught his sister
making out on the back porch
And his mother and father never kissed
or even talked
And the girl around the corner
wore too much makeup
That made him cough when he kissed her
but he kissed her anyway
because that was the thing to do
And at three A.M. he tucked himself into bed
his father snoring soundly

That's why on the back of a brown paper bag
he tried another poem
And he called it "Absolutely Nothing"
Because that's what it was really all about
And he gave himself an A
and a slash on each damned wrist
And he hung it on the bathroom door
because this time he didn't think
he could reach the kitchen.

I also found
old picture after Jason and I broke up. Wow. I'm deep. I'm pretty sure it sucks.

It's 4 a.m. I think I know what Abbie's talking about with the not sleeping stuff. This post is becoming way too long. I'm off to read.
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