novembre ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- mad at time i stood up on top of the table, pulling my weight into my arms, balancing my body against the mast of the umbrella. it was a weak thing; surely not meant to be carrying me. i jumped up and down on it, pulling k over to me as if we were on a seesaw and not some fucked up lawn furniture. each time my feet smacked on its metal the table top would groan at us, sounding exactly like a gong. instantly we were in the gong show. i started to dance for k, waiting for her to gong me. she hesitated and watched me: i was leaning out over the railing laughing and swaying, popping my head up to check if i could see stars, if the neon lights and cars still blinked in my eyes. GONG. we got tired of that and walked to an even more deserted area of the embarcadero, sitting across from each other on a cement bench, feeling stoic. we made up our own hand clapping games and remembered old ones, plucking memories from out of nowhere about cherry drops and tetherball and behind the fridgerator hello operator texaco new mexico sweet sweet lips. i remembered her in middle school, us in middle school, cliques and lunches and contempo casuals and fucked up sideways hairdos and boyfriends for a day and here she was now, across from me, telling me what comes after when the bees are in the hive and gonging me. and then it was time for us to go in and see the movie then we saw the movie and then i took her home and i drove myself home and i have to write a paper and wake up in six hours to make a print that was due two weeks ago and then mechanically finish everything else on my list. yeah, i guess that's fine, i guess i understand. the way of the world is that you can never have enough time because you'll get bored. and the bored die easily. but running around frantic with only intermittent stops and gongs and miss mary macks prolongues fear and desperation. and then it is so hard to fall asleep at night; i keep thinking about how i want to talk to muffie or tailgate heather or have a trillion dollars and everything never rests. 1:23 am - 11.7.2000 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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