OMG it’s a snow day?! YAAAAAS! YAAAAAS, they have a vegan menu! GASP is this a Gilmore Girls marathon? It is?!?! YAAAAAAAAS! Oh you are workin’ those shoes, honey, YAAAAAAAAS! YOU GOT ME BEYONCE TICKETS?! YAAAAAAAAAASSS! I found the last one in my size! YAAAAAAAAS! YAAAAAS, we’re having class outside today! Nordstrom Rack is having a sale! YAAAAAAASSS! Those shoes just gave me my entire life, child, YAAAAAASSS! YAAAAAAAS, The Rock just put new workout pics on his Instagram! YAAAAAAAAAAS the government shutdown is finally over! Open bar?! YAAAAAAAASSSS! YAAAAAAAAAAAS, we’re getting the band back together! Half day at the office today, YAAAAAAAAAAAS! Finally got in at the nail shop! YAAAAAAAAAS, honey, yaaaaaaaaas! Did you lose weight because OMG, YAAAAAAAAAAAAAS!! YAAAAAAAAAS, it’s free sample day at Costco! YAAAAAAAAS, I got an A on that test that I didn’t even study for! New Scandal comes on tonight! YAAAAAAAAASS! This view is beautiful, YAAAAAAAAAAAAS! I just found $20 on the ground, YAAAAAAAASS! YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSS!!!!!
"The first & only time you were eight
you remember remembering being seven
& the religious fear that filled you
when you realized, growing up means
dying. Even worse than dying,
forgetting. If you were previously made of streamers
now you alternated between thumbtacks &
gelatin. Around this time the sky birthed guilt
& it rained into your bones every day
sweet. Good morning, thing I will carry the rest of my life
you should have said when the thing
that made you part of yourself, childhood-altering thing
all childhoods run temple-first into, first
smarted. But you didn’t know any better
than to assume life was a series of events
that moved, that didn’t get stuck on each other
& stretch forwards & backwards: but the brain
is a piece of taffy on a fork, the brain
your brain is a simple concoction of sugars & time,
& you are not always your brain.
The last & only time you were eight
you became nine."
can’t tell if this struggle with sincerity is yours or mine
but i’m inviting the rain and thirsty all the time
I had a dream the other night that I was living in a post-apocalyptic, dystopian alternate reality where a 20-mile bridge connected two islands of land and people shuttled across the bridge in the large-wheeled, 200 mph jet cars with open windows but had to stock their cabins full of garbage magazines like Cosmo and US Weekly because the killer whale-esque sea creatures plaguing the water were so obsessed with pop culture and equipped with tentacles that could somehow move faster than your 200 mph car that if you didn’t carry enough magazines and if they weren’t up to date enough the creatures would use their whip-like tentacles to knock your car into the gray water and kill you, and I asked someone why they would even cross the bridge and they told me that checking on their families and friends on the other islands was all they had left to do, and the entire world was processed through some sort of Robert Rodriguez color scheme, and the worst part was that when I left my “dream” home to smoke a cigarette by some picnic benches before doing all that was left to do I met David Foster Wallace and I had nothing to ask (but he still smiled knowingly), and I have no idea when I got so stressed out about nothing in particular.