It's offical, Alfred Lord Tennyson is dead!
And it starts with a bang. That is, if a tiny whiff of air can count as a bang. First day of school, filled with repetitions of class outlines and seating arrangements. I was picking my forehead all day. A disgusting habit I know, looks unappealing, doesn't help with the acne, but it helps pass the time with my hands, the restless bastards that they are. It turned out to be a minimum day too. That was good. If I had to stand a whole day of that, something drastic would've happened. A death perhaps. Something cute and cuddly. I rode my (dad's) bike bike to school. I liked that. I got there faster than any poor fool in a car. Let's me test the lateness my rising in the morning. Optimum amount of sleep. Optimum efficiency. After school and much chilling and some cleaning, Jason came over and we went to "McDonald's" for some nougats. I'm thinking about calling the creek that codename. It was a nice, peaceful, relaxing place to go, and private as well. I'm really gonna have to cut that shit off, but can't think of a convenient time too. Nate just came in and didn't smell it on me; I'm good to go. It's always nice to field test my scent on Nate or Katie before I go with the parents. That was my day. Epitome of mediocre.
I wrote this a couple nights ago while waiting for Helena to be done excrementing on my lawn. I liked it and thought it achieved what I was going for. I think I should write more and hone this somewhat clandestine talent. It might come in handy with the ladies.
September Nights
I feel their art
wrapping my leg.
Those eight-legged things
are back again.
I feel the air.
It's a dry coolness.
My skin cries out
needing mousturizing respite.
I hear the leaves
unhinge, plummeting to the ground.
Their dry whisper.
Their last before death.
My eyes see nothing.
They heed no change.
The other senses
tell me fall is coming.
This other thing is a passage from the book I'm reading called You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers. It really struck me and made sense. I could see what he meant, but didn't know what to do in order to not lose it. So I've decided to put it on here.
"At that moment I was sure. That I belonged in my skin. That my organs were mine and my eyes were mine and my ears, which could only hear the silence of this night and my faint breathing, were mine, and I loved them and what they could do. There was so much water in so many places, rushing everywhere, up and down, the water on top moving so much faster than the water below it. Under the water was sand, then rocks, miles of of rocks, then fire."
I wrote this a couple nights ago while waiting for Helena to be done excrementing on my lawn. I liked it and thought it achieved what I was going for. I think I should write more and hone this somewhat clandestine talent. It might come in handy with the ladies.
September Nights
I feel their art
wrapping my leg.
Those eight-legged things
are back again.
I feel the air.
It's a dry coolness.
My skin cries out
needing mousturizing respite.
I hear the leaves
unhinge, plummeting to the ground.
Their dry whisper.
Their last before death.
My eyes see nothing.
They heed no change.
The other senses
tell me fall is coming.
This other thing is a passage from the book I'm reading called You Shall Know Our Velocity! by Dave Eggers. It really struck me and made sense. I could see what he meant, but didn't know what to do in order to not lose it. So I've decided to put it on here.
"At that moment I was sure. That I belonged in my skin. That my organs were mine and my eyes were mine and my ears, which could only hear the silence of this night and my faint breathing, were mine, and I loved them and what they could do. There was so much water in so many places, rushing everywhere, up and down, the water on top moving so much faster than the water below it. Under the water was sand, then rocks, miles of of rocks, then fire."