in the cold light of day, you can't always see what's true

i found some stuff i wrote for the creative writing class i took back when i was actually forcing myself to go to school. there were a few things i dont even remember writing. how weird is that? it's like, writing becomes such an organic process for me that shit just flows out of me and i don't even think about it.

here's one poem i don't remember. it's called Incite Insight. apparently.

These plans are ink
flowing freely, like gutter torrents in April storms,
through flaked picket fences and cracked front doors,
climbing up carnation stems, disturbing plain white suburban delusion,
infecting the petals with urban turmoil,
seeping through the veins of the weak, the poor, the tired, the hungry,
creeping into the off-whites of their searching eyes,
turning them granite black,
cold and solid and unmoving and unfeeling and
capable of great things.



hm. wtf.


oh, and then there was this weird scene-from-a-play thing:

(Setting: library. BOY sits alone at table with loads of books piled on it, taking notes. Empty chair is across the table from him.
(BOY should be wearing plain white oxford shirt, black pants, black tie, nice black shoes. GIRL should be wearing colorful tank top, checkered pants or a tutu or something. Unnatural colored wig. Crazy looking.)


GIRL
(Spinning the empty chair around and sitting on it backwards) Well, what’s a guy like you doing in a library like this, hm? (He ignores her) You looked lonely. And possibly dead. Except your hand was still taking notes. So I thought, hey, if this is some crazy medical miracle, and you died of boredom and your hand just kept on going, writing down line after line of meaningless shit, I better go check it out. I mean, I couldn’t just pass up the opportunity to witness what could quite possibly be the greatest medical anomaly ever to occur in--

BOY
(Glances briefly up at her, and then goes back to scanning a book and taking notes)(cutting her off) God, not now, okay? I’ve got a lot to do. (GIRL picks a book off of one of the stacks, flips through a few pages, tosses it onto another stack with a loud bang) Wait, what are you…? Gah… (She takes another book from a stack and starts to flip through it) Can you maybe not? I’ve got kind of a system going on…

GIRL
Ohhhh, a system! (She keeps flipping through the book. He stares at her, exasperated. She closes the book, looks up at him) Oh, you’ll figure it out. (She tosses the book onto another random stack).

BOY
Okay, really? (sigh) Did you need something? Or are you just trying to sabotage me?

GIRL
I’ll take C, none of the above. You should really consider more open ended questions, you know. You can never really know anybody’s full motives, and trying to condense them into two measly little choices is really kind of--


BOY
(interrupting her) Okay, whatever. Can you go, then?

GIRL
Nahhh. I’m still hoping to witness a medical anomaly. Maybe your brain will implode or something. (picks up another book from the stack) What is all this, anyways?


BOY
I have an accounting final tomorrow.

GIRL
Hm. Looks like a whole lot of bullshit to me.

BOY
Well then stop reading it (tries to take the book out of her hands across the table)

GIRL
(scoots her chair back so she’s out of his reach, reads aloud) “Big Firm seeks soulless, lifeless 20-something with college degree. Must love corporate america…”

BOY
It doesn’t say that…

GIRL
(sarcastic) Oooo, you got me… (tosses the book onto the table) What makes you want to do this shit anyways?

BOY
I don’t know. There’s pretty good money in it I guess.

GIRL
(Raising an eyebrow) Oh, reeeeeeally…. Well, how fantastic for you. (starts flipping through another book) What are you gonna by first, happiness or a Cadillac? (flips through the book for a while) So. Tell me the best day of your life.

BOY
What?

GIRL
The best day of your life in no less than 5 sentences. Go.

BOY
What? No…


GIRL
Why not?

BOY
Be--because… what the hell…

GIRL
Oh, come on. It’ll be fun. Like story time. Wait, your best day involved aliens or secret government projects or something and you’re sworn to secrecy, in which case, you should probably just make something up, ‘cause I wanna hear a stor--

BOY
No, no. I just…I don’t really think I have a best day ever. My whole life’s been the same.

GIRL
…wowwwww. That sucks.


BOY
(long pause, he stares at her while she flips through the book) What is it that you’re looking for, exactly?

GIRL
I don’t know. I don’t… know... (Scans a few pages of the book) Not this. (Adds the book to another stack)

BOY
No, I mean… here. In college. You’ve already seen what success brings… if that‘s not good enough for you, then--.

GIRL
What?

BOY
Well… you’re well off. You’ve got money. You’re rich. Shouldn’t that be enough?


GIRL
(growing angry/flustered) No, no, I‘m not rich. My parents are. For fuck’s sake, man. I am more than a byproduct of my parents’ poor reproductive choices. I am a living being. I have a heart and I breathe and I think. And money isn’t everything to me, okay? Maybe there’s more to life than a picket fence.


BOY
…well, I’m just saying.

GIRL
Saying what?!

BOY
…never mind.

GIRL
(pause)(under breath/aside)Fuck. (longer pause.) What do you want to do with your life?

BOY
Like a job?


GIRL
No. what is your purpose. Your higher calling.

BOY
….so, like a career?

GIRL
(frustrated) No. Fuck, no. your career is not your life. Forget about money and cars and all of this (sweeping gesture to audience). What do you want out of your life. Think.

BOY
(Pause)To be better than my dad.


GIRL
Why?

BOY
I donno. Just gotta prove it I guess.

GIRL
Prove what? That you’re good enough?


BOY
Yeah…well, I mean--





GIRL
(growing more and more animated/angry) Oh, god, jesus, th- (sigh) there you go again, with your, (exasperated sigh)…. Prove it to who?! To them (pointing gesture to audience)?! To these ignorant, superficial assholes?! They don’t give a shit what you do, man! They’re all focused on their dollars and fucking cents! Why are you trynna impress these shapeless faces, these tired SHEEPle!! They’re in their own god damned worlds. Why the hell are you trying to be like that? Like them? (yelling by this point) Just formless in a fucking crowd? You’re like an amoeba, like a fucking slide under a microscope, man, but nobody gives a shit what phase of osmosis you’re in, you’re just… fucking… (quieter) fuck, man, why do you have to prove it to them? Why do you have to prove anything?

BOY
(stares at her and pauses for a long time) My best day ever. My best day ever smelled like tortilla soup and scotch whiskey and cigarettes. The day I left home to come here. My mom wouldn’t talk to me-- she wanted me to stay home forever. Wanted me to be her support. God knows her husband wasn‘t there for her. My dad was… he was drunk. Passed out on the couch with the tv blaring and an ashtray in his lap. My mom, she gave me this look, like, please don’t go. Or maybe it was more like take me with you. Get me out of here. And she looked like if I took one more step away from her, she’d literally fall to pieces. But I walked out that door, and I packed my shit into the car, and I left. And I never looked back.



(HE walks off stage into the audience, leaving HER alone on stage, staring into the crowd, unsure. SHE takes off her wig, turns it over and over in her hands, downcast eyes. SHE turns and exits stage right or left, doesn’t matter, just not into audience. Lights out.)




fuckin weird, man.