12/25/08 – If Only I had a Polaroid and the Talent of Teleportation

I.
It’s Christmas and I have bruises up and down my arm.
I wonder what makes for a better story -
An abusive boyfriend who demonstrates his control over me by
Dominating the limb with which I write, do my makeup, brush my teeth,
Open and close doors, drink and eat or that
I wedged my arm between my bed and the wall,
Searching blindly for the pieces
Of my shattered phone.

II.
I want to believe in love, God, happiness and all that
Blissful, wishful-thinking bull shit.
Not that I have no reason not to
All my friends are happily attached
It shouldn’t matter that I’m not.
They like reading what I write
Even if they think I shouldn’t be so negative.
If only they understood that to even come close
To writing anything slightly compelling
You need to find the beauty in pessimism.

III.
Driving on the Pennsylvania Turnpike on Christmas Eve.
It’s approximately 45 degrees Fahrenheit appreciating the remarkable fluctutaion
On the dashboard outside thermometor.
I sit in the backseat listening to my new self-purchased iPod Nano
(Not that my two previous MP3 players were gifts;
I bought both Murphy, the homosexual electric-blue Mini iPod, and
Jacob Eugene Gabriel Garver, the white Zune, myself as well -
The latter even caused me to over-draw my bank account by
Thirty-seven cents.)
It was dark when we left the house
So the two books stashed in my Harajuku Lovers duffle bag remain unread.
There’s nothing to do and I find myself
Counting mile markers
My head rocking to the rhythm of the bumpy road.
I was probably around twelve when I figured out that
The green sticks were numbered for each tenth of each mile
Listening to believe-it-or-not CDs on a $40 disc-man which you can pick up
At Wal-Mart for ten bucks now.
The songs and the devices which relay them have changed
But the signs remain the same.

IV.
I’m writing this in a “journal”.
I bought it at Borders over the summer.
It’s only the third time I’ve written in it.
This is the longest entry and I’m not even trying for word count.
My friends teased me when I purchased this blue notebook with
Fake Transformers on it.
They said I would fill every line with
“Mrs. Laurely T.”
At least it’s in here once.

V.
I’m thinking about the boy I had a crush on all through middle school.
He added me on Facebook a few months ago
I wonder if he thinks about me.
Does he look at my pictures?
Read the comments from guys he doesn’t know
And the comments from guys he didn’t know I knew and get
Jealous?
I hope so.
Saying that makes me feel thirteen.

VI.
I’m reading this book about a gay man who was bullied in high school
He’s tracking down the bully later on because
Even though he’s grown, he’s still tormented by that guy.
I want to write a novel and I want the narrator to be
A teenage girl who is coincidentally reading the same book.
Only she describes the narrator of that book as
“Tracking down the guy that bullied him when he was my age.”

VII.
I’m in love with a boy with blue eyes.
Only I’m not sure it’s actually love
Let alone him I love. It’s his blue eyes.
How they light up when he looks right at me
While recounting some story or unusual piece of vital information
He thinks I’ll find amusing.
Probably a side-effect from all the weed he smokes.
A week ago I swore I was in love with him.
The week before I hated him even though he wasn’t a jerk.
Now I’m not sure where I stand
Are blue eyes worth it?
If only they could help him find a way not to let me down.

VIII.
Estranged is my favorite word.
I want to know who donates the guest vocals in
Plea by Say Anything.
They sound so familiar, but I can’t name them.
There was another random blurb I wanted to include but I forget and
It’s bothering me.
I remembered it while writing but felt it was necessary to finish the thought.
I wish I could rhyme well.
And that can’t be last.

IX.
I love falling asleep for the night on the couch.
So much so that whenever it happens
It’s a combination of accident and intent.
Right now it’s twenty to four.
I’m tired. But I could probably write much longer.
I just have so many thoughts
And so much to say.