me: to days of inspiration playing hooky making something out of nothing the need to express to communicate to going against the grain going insane going maAAAAAAd to loving tension no pension to mOre than one dimension to starving for attention hating convention not to mention of course hating dear old mom and dAAAAAAAAd to riding your bike midday past the three-piece suits to frUIts to no absolutes to absolut to choice to the village voiiiice to aNY PASSING FAD to being an us for once instead oF A THEEEEEM LA VIE BOHEEEEEEEME !!!!LA VIE BOHEME !!! hey mIster shes my sister so thats five miso soup four seaweed salad three soy burger dinner two tofu dog platter and one pasta with meatless balls ew it tastes the same if you close your eyes and thirteen orders of fries is that it here WINE AND BEER to hAnd crafted bEErs made in local brEwerIEs to yoga to yoghurt to rice and beans and cheese to leather to dildos to curry vindaloo to huevos rancheros and maya angelou emotion devotion to causing a commotion ceation vacation MUCHO MASTURBATION
i. Kids playing hooky early morning, I am the pain relief pills they hide under their tongue and spit out under the couch cushions when their mother shuts the screen door. I am the first time you skin your knee, in the rain whispering nixie weaved revenge spells down your yellow coat and your red boots (the first time you really know you are alone). I am the hand stand on the sidewalk when your elbow buckles in like lame horses fall to the canyon mouth, you are just a child. You can fly, turn invisible, speak to animals, walk through walls. Rustling, do you hear it? Yanking the baby teeth from their pink beds.
ii. You crumble under the weight of a naked black sky, feeling something skittering on your skin. Something wicked and naive. Like a spider egg. You get a mouthful of broken teeth, and lay frying sunny side up on the summer asphalt.
iii. Tonight you’re gonna learn how to fall, then get back up again. Tonight you are gonna know what it is to be exhausted. Are you okay when you fall off your daydream and end up on your back? Your eyes are red where they used to be white.
iv. you have been chewing your will to live with the aching wisdom teeth you desperately need to get pulled. you have been softening it with your saliva, but it’s 11 pm, and it’s stale now, and it tangles into your rapunzel locks in your sleep and finally gives you an excuse to cut all your hair off.
v. Last week your dentist asked if anything was bothering you, and you almost told him about the small tooth you think is growing between your tricuspids, pushing everything out of place, sending you on the verge of sonic tears and crawling on the bathroom floor with no idea where your phone is, and something out of control, and poison, and odontalgia, and dysthymia, and forgetting the Latin roots, and ripped out pages of a book that was supposed to tell you how to get back home and. how long do you think I can hold my breath before I look like a blueberry, and it is,
in me, and the throbbing red bump at the base of your sternum and how you tried to cut it off but you were too scared of what was underneath, and dandelion seeds of reasons why you should just stay here until somebody forgets you even showed up heaving out of your mouth and into a McDonalds bag, and the feeling at 13 in the bathroom stall after swim practice shaking like coffee on an empty stomach pulling out the first tampon you ever put inside, and your wet thighs, and the warm dirty smell.
Gargle, spit. You say no. Nothing really.
vi. you should get gold fillings. then all you have to do is flash a smile and no one will fuck with you.
vii. Four months until graduation we are not wasting time, but we eat it too fast and end up vomiting on the highway. On the swing, wood chip splinters, and agitation like termite fever beneath my skin. It’s not that I think the zombie apocalypse would be cool, but I could do all the things I do right now without getting sideways glances in the convenience store, or being told I’m depressed like it’s such a problem, or being treated like the splattered milk gallon on the dairy aisle linoleum. Everybody stepping back and maneuvering their shopping carts around the fresh disaster, and staring, and looking away, and ignoring what they don’t want to deal with. And not wanting the blame.
viii. I’m not depressed. It’s just winter.
ix. Is this the last weekend before the first blood? I’m not gonna do my homework anyway.
x. I’m not depressed. My brother took me into the car with the light fixture wires hanging from the ceiling like your wet hair from shower tiles. we zoomed down with Apollo laughing in the backseat and egged the big white houses in Beverly Hills and pretended like we were still the strawberry jam kids on concrete playing hopscotch, living in sandcastles, eating mudpies. Like we were not hotboxing, and taking pictures of half healed things under the band aid, and always ready to put our hands up when we hear sirens, and microwaving earthworms. And growing up too fast.
I’m not depressed. But I’m not coming back this time either.
xi. It’s a haunted Sunday in the home your parents left to rot, and the black mold spores bleeding down the buttermilk wallpaper are causing you to do unadvisable backbends. And somehow years later I am still the grocery list you are always throwing in the trash with the candy wrappers.
I’m looking forward to seeing what the 1975 do next. I’ve known Matt Healy since he was 12, because he’s from near me….It was interesting watching him grow up because every time I was at a do where his mum was he’d be there and come over to talk. He’s a massive Joy Division fan. My daughter put the first 1975 album on my iPod without telling me who it was, and I got quite into it. Then I saw them recently at the Manchester arena, in front of 20,000 people, and they’ve improved so much. Their songs are quite radical because they don’t have breaks or changes, just grooves. At the arena, I was struck by how much their music reminded me of Brian Eno’s soundscapes – he’s made some of my favourite records – but with guitar and vocals. Afterwards I asked Matt: ‘Have you been listening to Eno, by any chance?’ He said: 'All the f*ckin’ time, Hooky’.
Need to wake up to Harry, soft and naked, my leg around his legs, face to face, kissing his temple as he hums quietly with delight, pulling me closer. “Don’ get out of bed”, he’d whine, “stay warm with me, you can work tomorrow”.
And we spend all day kissing and laughing, playing hookie, taking baths and of course slow, lazy couch sex.
“Come on, Wonderboy, play hooky for a day. For old time’s sake?”
Happy 47th birthday to Susan Egan (born February 18th, 1970), she is the original voice actress of Megara in both the movie “Hercules” and in Kingdom Hearts II! With the return of Olympus Coliseum in Kingdom Hearts III, could Wonderboy’s lover make a return as well? #BDayKH kh13.com
you how much the “you’re just doing this for attention” rhetoric affects people in a whole bunch of things in life. when i first realized i was bi there were months afterwards where i was like “maybe im just straight and im doing this to feel more special” even tho i had clearly acknowledged my attraction to other women and i had felt so much more comfortable w myself after accepting that. for a few months i was getting headaches and eye aches and i got glasses and they went away but for a while afterward i was like “i sure hope no one realizes i just got these glasses just because i think they look cute and my vision is actually fine” even tho my doctor told me that my eyes were stressed from over focusing to compensate for my farsightedness. every time i got sick and skipped school i was like “i shouldn’t play hookie i should have gone to school” even if i was laying in bed with a fever