Today I wore the t-shirt with the man who looks like a cross between
Che Guevara and
Merle Haggard playing
guitar and wearing
hooker boots. He has two
shadows, one
orange, and the other is
blue; he himself is
yellow, with black felt outlining his features. I put on my “HE’S NOT MY PRESIDENT” pin. It’s routine now. Over my shirt I put on a
green dressy overcoat jacket; it‘s not pure green, it‘s
plaid. The bottom
button is missing, and the top one is getting loose, soon there might just be one left. I have a
shamrock pin on this overcoat, one where the
clovers are shaped like
hearts symbolizing the
love of the Irish.
It’s morning and at school I’m sitting at a table. Alone. Girl One sits down next to me. She has blue hair and wears cat ears. She’s in my band, the drummer. Her mom’s a republican, I decided that she dyes her hair as both a political statement and to rebel against her mom, although both the theories are pretty much the same. Boy One comes in. He wears his almost Quaker-looking hat and what could be labeled as a gothic jacket, which he bought at Tripp. He’s the third member of my band, plays guitar alongside me. Girl Two appears. I used to be friends with her brother but he moved to live with his father I think in Ellington, Connecticut, although I’m probably mistaken. She’s either lesbian or bisexual, all I know is lately she’s been thinking of a polite way to break up with some girl. Girl Three goes over to Boy One. Yesterday was her birthday, or was it two days ago? She’s going out with Boy One. She has to leave school early everyday for I think six weeks for group counseling. Her parents are making her because they found out that she tried to cut herself eight months ago. Boy two walks in, holding hands with his girlfriend. He pierced his ear with a safety pin, yesterday we were talking about this. His girlfriend comes from a neighboring town and this is only the second time I’ve met her. The first being at a concert so I was unable to actually talk to her, although we do chat online. Then Boy Three sits down next to Girl One, a while ago I could tell he had an affection for her, now they are together. He takes out his cyber sex papers he printed out a while ago, they are quite amusing. Suddenly there is a Boy Four and he tells Boy Two that the safety pin in his ear is the devil.
During chemistry we were supposed to be doing a lab creating ball-and-stick models with… sticks and balls, but no one wants to do anything because it’s Friday and Monday starts vacation. I take out a needle. The 16 gage instead of the usual 30 gage, a dental needle. With this I repeatedly poke myself in the hand and arm, mostly the hand. I deliberately do this whenever I become bored or afraid, this time I’m bored. Someone asks me what is that for? They are asking about the needle so I say for fun as I thrust it into the palm of my hand. I didn’t feel it go in, I didn’t even think it did, but after a couple of seconds someone says blood and hands me a box of tissues. I decline the offer saying no thanks. Then I suck the blood and tell everyone that you’re supposed to recycle blood. The teacher says if I’d like I could go to the nurse’s office and get a Band-Aid. I don’t like the sticky feeling Band-Aids leave. I was about to say that it was okay but the bell rang and I was ready for lunch.
On the way to my locker to get my lunch I meet up with Boy Two and his girlfriend, she asks me what’s up and I tell her that for the past couple days I’ve had the damn sniffles and now I’m getting fucking stigmata. They laugh at what I said and I laugh at my stupidity. I show them my hand. Boy One and Girl Three are now here, Girl Three grabs my hand, her eyes widen in what I can tell is bewilderment, and says she’s sorry. I ask her why, you didn’t do anything? Boy Two’s girlfriend takes her pointer finger and touches the blood that’s on my hand, looks at it, then wipes it on her pants. Everyone jokes around saying she’s going to get AIDS. She says she didn’t drink the blood. I joke around and say I gave her pants AIDS. Her and her boyfriend go off to the cafeteria and he says that he’ll see me later.
I’m in the auto shop eating lunch with Boy One and Girl Three because I’m not a fan of the cafeteria and also I like to stand as I eat. Boy One tells me I should clean out the cut, because the hand gets infected easily. He gets out an alcohol pad and has me wipe the wound. He says it may burn a little. I don’t feel anything except for the wetness of the pad. I say my nerves must be shit because everything’s painless. He takes out a Band-Aid. I say no, I don’t use Band-Aids. He shows me the Vaseline or something a lot like it and says that I have to keep this on somehow. It’s okay because he finds some gauss pads. He says maybe he shouldn’t give out any more needles. I say no one will get hurt.
Some other students come in with a bowling ball. They decide to air-press it, to see if it breaks. A piece flies off at I think it was fifteen-hundred tons.
Boy One is talking to Girl Three and tells her that his hair is getting curly, he brings his fingers down the end side of the bangs. His hair is long and he was right, it curls. I tell him between the hat and the curly hair, he looks Jewish.
It’s time for Girl Three to leave so Boy One walks her to I don’t know where.
English class, the last class of the day. Once I sit down I realize I’m fucked because I forgot to finish the essay quiz from yesterday that I was able to take home. I’m lucky because the first thing she says is that it was just to see how we could write in a short period of time with given a topic. Which reminds me of the SATs. Shit, I haven’t studied much for those yet.
As I am walking home it is flurrying. I can see my breath. I don’t wait around for anybody because it’s cold and I don’t like it. Even if it wasn’t cold I probably wouldn’t of stayed, sometimes you have to be alone.
When I get home I see that my brother hasn’t put the dishes away and know he won’t so I do. I see that there are dishes in the sink but I feel that I’ve done enough for now so I don’t do them. Instead I go down to the basement, put on some music, and read.
When she gets home my mom gives a bracelet, the kind that has gotten extremely popular lately, yet this one reads; “Someone You Know Has LUPUS”. It’s too big for me because I have small wrists, which makes me happy because it really freaks me out.
Later on Boy Two’s girlfriend sees me online and says I gave her pants AIDS. We get talking and I ask her how her day was. She says it was great and wants to go to my school. She says I’m like ten times cooler than everyone at her school. This makes my week, maybe month, I don’t know, it’s not over yet. I have her read my last node because she read my first one and really liked it. She says she likes it. I say I wasn’t feeling too happy that night, but it’s okay because sometimes depression helps me write. She says she knows what I mean. I haven’t read any of her stuff, but I know she likes to write. She doesn’t like George Bush either. I know a lot about her but I don’t know her. Sometimes I feel that the only people I can connect with are people I don’t know.
A commercial for the ten o’clock news tonight shows stories about a murder investigation and a case of police brutality, the latter complete with video footage. Never in these things do they show anything positive. That just wouldn’t sell.
And now I am going to sleep, to escape reality, and to enter the realms of unknown…