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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/379712-Ebony-Staff
Rated: 18+ · Book · Personal · #911202
My first ever Writing.com journal.
#379712 added October 16, 2005 at 4:52pm
Restrictions: None
Ebony Staff
swell weekend. the swellest.

there is a ninety-five percent chance of my crumbling soon. because, like, for all the trash i talk, and all my pseudo-self-righteousness, i am incessantly manipulated, trampled on and degraded by nearly everyone in my life. i called my mom today to talk to her about what's going on down here. she had my grandmother in the car, and she couldn't talk for long (supposedly you can get a ticket for talking on a cell phone while driving in the district now), but i got the basic story out, and she agreed that things are prettty outrageous, right now.

she and i are nothing alike, we even sound different (she makes her voice very throaty on purpose to intimidate her coworkers), but when we're both upset, we shriek as one. she got me all worked up, to the point where i even said something about so-and-so "licking each other's balls" (figuratively, of course), which is not a reference i'd ordinarily feel comfortable making, not with her and definitely not with my granna in listening range. mom was cool about it, though, and served exactly the purpose i'd expected her to, by tearing apart my newly made plan and replacing it with a rigider, more principled plan of her own. i don't even know why i called. i knew she was going to say i was being stupid, and i was was, but i didn't want to hear that.

talking to my brother was much better. he thinks my plan is brilliant. and yes, it fills me with endless confidence to have a seventeen-year-old's stamp of approval. whatever, he'd beat people up for me, if he had to. that's all i need to know.

he and i could be playing nintendo right now. i so should have gone home this weekend. i was really going to, because of the off days, but i always talk myself out of it at the last minute; i decide the tickets are too expensive or it's too much of an ordeal, or whatever, and then i always regret it, afterward.

i want to commission a wizard to build me a magical gem-encrusted scepter, a la emerald forest. platinum shaft, diamond-spangled head, giant multicolored sapphire drops everywhere. stuff would shoot out of the tip, blessings and benevolence, to reward the nice people who are not ruining my life right now. i would be a genie with free reign, and walk around gifting them with music and light shows and pretty scenery to look at, if they liked that kind of thing. money, if they didn't, with which to buy whatever they did. good hair days for the girls. self-trimming goatees for the guys. perfect, trump-tight hands for the card players. reception-conducive, static-free zones aplenty for the cell phone junkies. fried rice with scallions and egg for everybody!

and then. back to the wizard, who would then get to work on his next project, my gnarled ebony staff. runes and curses carved along the side. unspecial, ugly thing capable of impossible destruction. zap, subject is frozen in place while i have my way. have at him with the pinking shears. pour apple juice on his fresh new tims. smash his ears between my free weights.

i should stop before this starts to sound like a good idea. it still doesn't, right now. check back with me in a week.

fried rice with scallions and egg for everybody? that, that idiotic proclamation, is perfectly illustrative of my number one failing as a human being. i project myself onto everyone else. i want some fried rice right now. i also want intimacy and commitment and an intense break from this unpredictable post-adolescent madness. all well and good, but somewhere along the way, i decided to believe that other people wanted those things, too. probably because they so tirelessly insist that i should believe that. idiots! zap.

i want to be fast, i want to jump high, i want to be a part-time ninja. or, just, go home. i should have gone home.

© Copyright 2005 mood indigo (UN: aquatoni85 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/books/entry_id/379712-Ebony-Staff