for "mini_nanowrimo" hence no friends lock 17
12280 ♥ 21000 (58.48%)
Okay, so I wrote a whole bunch of random stuff. I had all these scrap ideas laying around and I thought some of them were pretty cute and clever. I used ideas I had from a notebook I found from 2006. Clearly I don't remember anything I was talking about back then so it was interesting to make things up and wonder how close I am to what I was talking about. Too bad time travel doesn't exist. . .
Also: Copy and paste made my layout all funky. I could fix it, pretty easily but I like the way it looks. Artists *sarcastic shrug/eye-roll*
The Day After the Power Goes Out
These melting, sunny Sunday nights. No, not quiet night but a pre-night. The day's last call before twilight, with my mother in the dimly-lit kitchen making spicy caesars and boys playing soldiers on the television screen.
Listen closely, too late now, to the same songs you heard and ignored in high school. A steady soundtrack to the black font on a white and blue screen. All it tells me is that I have no right to feel this safe. Not with three tons of Ammonium nitrate waiting to do more than stop traffic. (And they are just kids, for Christ's sake! How did this all go so wrong wrong in the time when I was only just concentrating on saying 'thank you' every time the waitress refills my coffee cup?)
So what is there to do but watch those shouting, shooting boy soldiers and watch mother rim the glasses with ridiculous percussion and care. Or is it that we should watch the wind pull the storm off to a new destination? Is the answer muddled in a shaken-up mix of all of these?
Scraps:
Band Name - The Rock On Kitties!
First Album - Well your mom's not here
Nine Tracks.
Two minutes and thirty seconds each.
One Secret track titled: Jackson is asleep on my floor.
Recorded over a three day weekend in the 'J' graphic novel section of the public library.
Love Letter
Dear,
Today has been slow. Hours march quietly by with impatience. I tried to fill it up by sleeping and watching the same cartoon three times in a row. The truth is nothing helped. Nothing makes me miss you less. Nothing makes me less lonely.
I'm not bored, I already told you that. I just have trouble making friends. I always did. It's really nothing new. Obviously I'll never really tell you that. I will never give you this letter. I just need to keep a record of how much of a dull house wife I have become in a matter of days. Weeks. Will you still love me when you realize this? I hope so. . .
Second Person
You make your way back into your room. You hardly stumble. You climb into bed, kicking all the covers off. You stop the music, start playing something else and pause it again. You pull at the earphones and listen to the nothingness again. It is ten minutes to three o'clock. You hear the cats fighting in the ally under your bedroom window again. You start the music and try to fall asleep, knowing it won't happen. You try to ignore the fact that someone was in the house. You pretend it didn't happen. You lose. You lose yourself in three or four songs before you feel the surprising pull of sleep. You sink down into too many pillows and discard the earphones for darkness. You win. You sleep.
Unfinished
She has nineteen suicide notes, collected from
over the years.
She name dropped Thomas Chatterton in each one.
Oh, how foolish and easily trapped these youth are.
How could she have known any better when
she grew up by the back of a man's hand?
Where do you go when you can't go home?
So she lives a life she has pulled out of a hat.
She did what she knew and was told.
After four hundred pots of weak coffee,
she started keeping a journal of notebook sketches, social injustices
and rock star crushes.
It's hard not to point out her mistakes to her. You have to try.
Kids today are too sensitive to reality colliding with fantasy.
Who is Chris?
Dear Chris,
The house is almost unnaturally silent without you here. It is too spooky. I woke myself up this morning by rolling over expecting to end up curled into your side. I never really realized how cruel this business actually is. Shows what I know. I hate pouting all the time. You would love the attention, I just know it.
Today I am going to write and leave notes in all my favourite novels at the library. I haven't decided what to write yet but I made a decision to leave all the Harry Potter novels alone. It is just too scary to fuck with kid's little heads like that. It's mean.
You will already know all this in a moment or two because I am going to call you after I finish writing this sentence.