rambling and perhaps a story
10/26/2002 08:31 p.m.
I'm home... mmmmm... it's nice to be home. Of course, it doesn't sincerely feel like home since Koye's not here, but I'm making do. I got to see my dearest Simeon last night and that brought me immeasurable joy. He's the best. And we watched Donnie Darko... is that "Darco" or "Darko"? I can't remember. Oh well. It was creepy but really interesting. And check the Mood box, kids. CLEVER! Yep. The children and the flowers are my sisters and my brothers. John Denver said so. That was random, I know. Sorry. I think I'm going to tack a conversation/story thing on the end of this cause Koye's been bugging me to let him read them. I may post a poem or two... it's time to get rid of that "new" beside the green and brown poem. So silly... a poem about OB. Tommy's in Virginia right now. I keep mentally tracking him. Like, I'll look at my watch and go "Hmmm, 2:00 PM, he might be getting ready for the wedding right now." It's silly, but I'M silly so it makes sense. OH! I got a haircut today. My hair was almost down to my waist and IMPOSSIBLE to dry every morning before my stupid 8:00 AM Greek class! So yeah, talked mom into letting me cut it. It's a little longer than shoulder length and mad layered. :) Mad... yep. Anyway, I think I'll get to putting this story brother up here. I'll most likely post randomly 'til I head back to prison, so watch for that!



"So how are you?" It’s a fairly normal question but coming from her it sounded deadly.

"I’m fine. When did you get here?" I wasn’t sure I wanted to know the answer. I wasn’t sure there was an answer.

"He’s not so great. Honestly, like there aren’t a million other fucking men in this world." I’d never seen a cigarette like the one she was smoking, and the writing, tiny as it was, looked foreign.

"I know there are others," I sighed deeply, descending from my chair to the floor; she stood across from me, looking down, "but he’s, you know, current. He’s what’s happening right now." It sounded so harsh. It made me look bad.

"My my my," she began, a devious smile curling across her lips, "who’s the shallow silly girl now, Miss Holier Than Thou?" She flicked ashes onto the floor and I stared at them worriedly. They were still smoldering and the carpet was turning black. "Geez, Smokey. Sorry. What are you? The Crying Indian?" she said, calming the cinders with a chunky black boot. I wondered silently where she shoe shopped.

"I’m not shallow." I was offended.

"Mmm, sure. No, not at all," she said rolling her eyes. "Anyway, why is it that you think you’re becoming what you’ve always hated?" She said it as if the question where as normal as asking the time.

"Because I’m being goofy about boys."

"But why?"

"I don’t know."

"Sure you do."

"If I did, I’d tell you."

"You’re lying." Then she began to hum a tune I didn’t recognize.

"I... I don’t know... cause I’m lost here? Cause I have nothing to cling to but the attention of boys hundreds of miles away?" I pulled a loose thread in the carpet and plead with myself not to get emotional.

"Mm-hmm." She handed me a cigarette. I took it, breathed in and sighed, my lungs a bit blacker, my life a few minutes shorter.

"So what’s you’re point? There’s a point right?”

"There’s always a point. I just thought you might be quick enough to catch it on your own." She laughed a bit and looked at me quizzically. I could differentiate between the pupils and irises of her eyes – they were all black.

"So out with it, Jezebel."

She laughed slightly and stared dreamily for a moment. Then she appeared to wake up. "Mmmmkay. You," she pointed her cigarette at me, "are being lazy. You think you’re so responsible with your classes and your homework and keeping things clean and doing your community service. You’re lazy emotionally. You go all day holding back any emotion you might feel until you get a phone and are ameliorated by any number of your harem."

"They’re not my harem."

"Then why do you treat them that way? You act like a fucking Muslim inciting jealousy among his harem. They’re not your whores, you know."

"I know that!" I was angry.

"So stop screwing them whenever and however you feel like it." There were tears in my eyes and my face was burning... mostly because I knew she had a point.

"Okay... okay. You’re right," I managed to say.

"I don’t blame it all on you. These," she looked around suspiciously, "are some bad situations. The people you love most are nowhere near you and you don’t even have music to make it better. But I know you can handle this better. You can." She reached her hand down to help me up.

"Thanks."

"No problem. I’m outta here," she said making a face of disgust, "so I’ll see ya later." She cheerily skipped away. I wiped tears from my face and went back to my homework.

I am currently Clever
I am listening to Talula (Tornado Mix) by Tori Amos