2004-12-25 - 8:34 p.m.
The Flood And Fire Fight (Part II - Sodium Intake)
I’m done. I’m fucking done. I’m done with school and people and clothes and feelings and art and everything else I was under the impression I could achieve. Anything I thought would make me feel better doesn’t. Whatever I thought I might overcome I haven’t. I was so sure I’d be okay. Okay with friends. Okay at shows. This isn’t okay. This fucking sucks.
He said, “I’ve seen you around for awhile now. I always wanted to say something but I never got around to it.”
She said, “You should have. I’ve been on my deathbed for a long time now and I’m not getting any better.
Something shot from his wrist to where his jaw and neck met. “I didn’t know that. I was so sure you always thought of me better from a distance.”
She made a gun from her thumb and two fingers and pointed at his left eye. “I did, but all the same you shouldn’t flatter yourself.”
He said, “I knew something like this would happen. I’m too slow to compete with you.”
She said, “Competing? Is that what we’re doing? You’re wearing my pants.”
He said, “You aren’t helping me. You’re fucking up my head and wearing at my body. You smile like you know everything I don’t but want to learn from you. Your eyes shift like you’re past everything in this town. The music you sing is a different tune, it makes you guilty by association and makes me feel dirty.”
I may be going crazy. Everything and everyone reminds me of something or someone else from another time except I don’t have a full grasp on what it reminds me of. I’m not here more than less of the time. Twice on Tuesday I caught myself crawling inside my clothes. Shrinking and decomposing, catching myself thinking ‘I am only clothes’. I am only something small. There is too much space in my head.
There was never physical pain until now. Now my chest feels like someone’s pushing me into a wall. Now it hurts. Now I feel sick.
I can’t get it out of my head how they’re fucking me over.
Next year I’m going to pose as a poser and date all the boys in this certain group and once I’ve slept around with all of them I’ll start on the girls and sleep with them too. I’ll make it the new fad. It will be the new “scene” thing to do. Scenes are bullshit excuses for a click.
You can tell I’m going insane because I blink too much. I start slurring my words and my hands get tied together more than they used to.
She said, “Goddamn. If you are going to tell me you better before I fall asleep.”
He said, “Haven’t you ever heard of anticipation? You’re still as impatient as you used to be. All right, if you want it then here it is.
“He was ignored upon arrival. She wore a red dress and a spitting image of the young soldier he used to be on her left arm. He wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or if something about her had dulled. Something had been dimmed about the girl he used to share coffee and cigarettes with on 3rd and Market Tuesday afternoons.
“Am I going too fast?” He asked. “I’m just pulling this out of my head you know.”
She said, “I know. Get on with the fucking story.”
He said, “Okay.
“He remembered when they met in a small dive bar. She was fussing about change for a tip and he was telling her to just leave it and to stop being so toil. “Really? Do you really think I’m uptight?” (She had more than a few drinks.) “I think you’d be better off doing something spontaneous.” He told her.
“In the spirit of what he had just said she dropped the bill on the counter, took him by the wrist and pulled him out the door behind her. “You’re doing this to spite me aren’t you?” He remembered asking. She didn’t reply but bit her lip and lead him through the door and into her apartment.
“The place smelled of cheap wine and smoke. She started asking him all sorts of half minded questions, did he want something to drink (he did), had he ever seen the coast (he had), was he comfortable (he wasn’t but he said he was because she looked scared to know the answer).
“The truth was, he should have gotten out then. But she took down her hair and laid her head on his chest and the fact of the matter was, he kept glancing down to see if she had fallen asleep yet and there she lay, a new born fawn, small and still at peace with the world.”
He stopped. “You’re falling asleep aren’t you? You asked me to tell you and you’re falling asleep.”
She blinked. “I’m not asleep. Just read the fucking story.”
He said, “I’m not reading anything. I’m just telling it to you.”
“Christ. You always do this. Just tell me what happens next.”
“I’m not sure. What do you think?”
“The have wild passionate sex?”
“Are you guessing or is that what really happened?”
“Happened? I thought you were making this up.”
“Well, more than less of it.”
…
She said, “I used to have a red dress, you know.”
He said, “I know.”
