And birthday parties were no longer fun. Hand grenades looked alot closer to my heart. Leather, lacquer, and libraries as toys. Did the lockers just stick or is that over thinking it. Guinea pigs, a great deal looking like large potatoes, died that year and every year after that, but aspirations were born from their graves like buttercups no longer rubbed on chins. Caked on fuck ups and little puppy dogs tails'. I found my inspirations in the pimples, blackheads, and puss filled volcanoes. Liquor is fun but drugs are quicker. Wolves in the throne room, pigs in the menagerie. And I thought Tennessee Williams was going to be my one true calling, love. Sleepovers that lasted 8 straight years, planning trips to the fjords. High street high school is a state of mind, absolutely not the state of your being. Im writing this with charcoal pencil, already smudging birthmarks onto my chin, soaking into my skin, here forever to stay. Drumbeat drumbeat baseline flatline. Eternity is only 7 days or until we fall asleep in others beds. I wet my sheets. My friends and I denounced religion, found punk rock, and thought cigarettes were cool, still do. My shadow.
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Writing this was a lot like writing anything; quick, painless, and some sort of fun. However, I find that having any constraints (i.e. number of sentences, copping Hejinian's style, etc. and onward) to be (not suprisingly) insanely constricting and hard to work around. I found myself wanting to stop at 10 sentences, and pushing myself to write 8 more felt like a chore. Also, trying to remember my 14 year old state of mind was awkward and confusing. It's hard to believe all of the things you forget in a short 4 years, although it's interesting to see that I am the exact same person now that I was when I was 14, just completely different.
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4 comments:
I like this Kelly, I think a lot of your personality really shines through.
My disinherited personality, thank you Tabatha. Whenever I say your name in my head I say it like this, "tuh-BATH-tha".
K,
I know what you mean about the chore part of having to go on beyond the point where you've felt the thing's achieved its sufficiency. I wanted to stop at sentence 8, then 12, then 24...
Anyway, I think one good thing parameters can do (if employed and deployed and abused correctly) is provide a shape -- some form -- in the face of the splat. And this can make the difference between nonsense and coherence, in that it wears its manager's badge on its heart-sleeve, i.e. one knows that choices have been made, that the merely random has been tended to, mended through, made and re.
Weird coincidence, indeed -- our both naming names, but even more so the micturition spree.
Finally, I love that shadow at the end of your post, hanging there reminding us that every one of these entries is a shadow of My Life and also my life and your life and the events that we remember/forget. And memories, too, of course, shadows, shades, echoes, traces, ghost-gusts.
O, the works!
M
kellers.
cheers.
i say it a lot, i know.
therefore, cheers.
i dig it.
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