Just For That Dramatic Pause
Here ya go kids! Fresh outta the carton and enriched with extra pulp and vitamin D!
A thread. A thread in hand of the neophytic tot. Red thread in her left hand. The needle in her right. She stares down the needle’s eye with determination and shaky handed precision. Her left hand wavers as it comes in for the strike, an inch of thread licked straight and protruding from her pinched fingers. The right hand tries to be still as it floats freely in the air. As the two hands close in, the retrospective and prospective begin their melding. Like some fusionary dance between to objects minimal in scale. The closer they come, the stiller they are, and the more like each other they seem. Two objects, of slight size, indentured for the same task. Eventually they’ll be one, when the child seamstress can set her hands straight. This is the microcosm in the life of a sweatshop child, making your clothes.
If you hadn't noticed, this post marks my second major narrative since the end of my writing hiatus. A month off the stuff does the body good, but I'm a tipical addict, and it was only a matter of time before I was got back on the stuff.
Guess who's not failing U.S. History!? ME! I pulled a 93 on the most major of papers, and I get to up my test grade to an 81! If you're not excited, you damn well oughta be! That means things are going swell for me!
And I studied! Oh did I study. I spent 5 days studying for that math test. And I only blanked on 2 questions. This gaurantees that I'll get at lest an 80, which would boost my D average to a C at least! And boy do I need that!
In other news, I am feeling...alone? I guess. I've been spending too much time with myself. And Jake bailed on me for the movies, which completely bummed me out, b/c I have been dying to talk to him.
I think I should stop being so nice to people. It's starting to make me angry that no one ever wants to help me when I need it.
Or maybe I should stop being such a wishy-washy shit and get over it man style. You know, bottle it up, hit someone, eat raw meat and drink beer by the trash can full.
A thread. A thread in hand of the neophytic tot. Red thread in her left hand. The needle in her right. She stares down the needle’s eye with determination and shaky handed precision. Her left hand wavers as it comes in for the strike, an inch of thread licked straight and protruding from her pinched fingers. The right hand tries to be still as it floats freely in the air. As the two hands close in, the retrospective and prospective begin their melding. Like some fusionary dance between to objects minimal in scale. The closer they come, the stiller they are, and the more like each other they seem. Two objects, of slight size, indentured for the same task. Eventually they’ll be one, when the child seamstress can set her hands straight. This is the microcosm in the life of a sweatshop child, making your clothes.
If you hadn't noticed, this post marks my second major narrative since the end of my writing hiatus. A month off the stuff does the body good, but I'm a tipical addict, and it was only a matter of time before I was got back on the stuff.
Guess who's not failing U.S. History!? ME! I pulled a 93 on the most major of papers, and I get to up my test grade to an 81! If you're not excited, you damn well oughta be! That means things are going swell for me!
And I studied! Oh did I study. I spent 5 days studying for that math test. And I only blanked on 2 questions. This gaurantees that I'll get at lest an 80, which would boost my D average to a C at least! And boy do I need that!
In other news, I am feeling...alone? I guess. I've been spending too much time with myself. And Jake bailed on me for the movies, which completely bummed me out, b/c I have been dying to talk to him.
I think I should stop being so nice to people. It's starting to make me angry that no one ever wants to help me when I need it.
Or maybe I should stop being such a wishy-washy shit and get over it man style. You know, bottle it up, hit someone, eat raw meat and drink beer by the trash can full.