By Nous
                   
                    June 30, 2004

DAYS OF SHADOW

I shifted around, opened my eyes, and I saw that my room was
still dark. The window let in a dull, gray light. It must be
seven in the morning, I thought.  After a moment of shifting
uncomfortably, I reached over for my glasses and knocked one
of my casette tapes onto the floor. A sharp crash of plastic
disturbed my half-asleep mind.  The clock said it was noon -
exactly 12:37 pm.
Rising from the futon I called a bed, I turned off the light
outside by my window and headed into the living room.  There
was no action out there, and I soon found myself in my room
once more. I sat there for about a minute wondering what the
day would bring.
I opened the blinds slightly and put my Good Luck plant that
James Walker's mother bought me by the window.  I put on my
Debussy CD again and left my room.
Sometimes my room was threatening; it seemed to fluctuate as
if it were made of flesh. Emotions filled it to the breaking
point and then receded again, and somewhere in the middle of
that was Nous.
I'm sure I've talked about this before, so nevermind.
I thought earlier today that it would be great to add an up-
stairs to my tiny room. Since the ceiling was not flat, but
rather concave, adding a ceiling below that one could create
a tiny room between the lower ceiling and the upper ceiling.
We truly are the dreamers of dreams.
After a moment of thinking that, I realized that I could not
remember what had happened the day before. Often my thoughts
hopped from place to place, and I never knew what was next.
I then remembered something I had thought before at one of
my cousins' birthday parties.  My sense of time was slowly
going.
Or was it going slowly? Maybe quickly.

PEOPLE NEED TO TAKE IT EASY

I tried to stop myself from having great expectations once
more for the new day, but can a whistling wind stop itself
from whistling?  My mother asked if I would like to go  to
the thrift store, and I saw no reason not to go, except my
screenplay which I had been working on was still not quite
finished. Perhaps, I thought, I should work on it now. But
of course I took the first opportunity to escape. I bought
a Joni Mitchell casette because I'm a hippie fag who likes
to relax and cry.
HEB was full of people. My mom asked if I would maybe like
a Sangria, but for some reason I said no.
"Hm?" she asked.
"No, I guess. I don't."
"What?"
"No!"
"What, you don't want anything today?"
Her tone was insulting, but it was also full of injury.  I
guess I shouldn't have snapped,  but she had been that way
all day and I was pretty tired of her constant attempts to
make me feel better.
Some days, I thought, you just feel like shit.

Jason let me borrow Neil Gaiman's "American Gods."  I had
actually been putting off reading Neil Gaiman because his
books had been hyped up for me, even though it was unusual
for me to let anyone hype anything up.  Alas, that was the
case. But I was halfway through "American Gods" and was
enjoying it, so no harm done.
My cousin had called to ask if I could help him move some
of his stuff into a new house he had bought.  I could not
say no, so I said yes.  Makes sense, right?
My other cousin, Mario, picked me up and we were on our
way. After about an hour, we had most everything packed
and stuffed into my cousin's house. So what else was there
to do but consume alcohol?
Horrible stuff.

EVERYONE'S PUKING UP ROSES

Time goes on.
I woke up earlier than usual. 10:37 am, shrieked the clock
from the shelf. Oh, it shrieked, all right. I didn't think
it was possible either, but I heard what I heard.
I went to the library. I had in mind another of Pimsleur's
classes on CD. This time, I thought, I'll learn Vietnamese.
Of course, Vietnamese was not there so I grabbed Japanese,
Korean Dance on VHS, and The Office on DVD. I was set.
I was thinking this just now. Why did I list all the stuff
I checked out? Why did I do that? I hated when other people
did it on Livejournal or whatever, so why did I do it just
then? Never make that mistake again.
I got in line to check out my books. The guy called me over
and I gave him my library card. I turned around.
What the fuck?
Andira was there, in line, just behind me, with some guy.
Andira, from school, was there.
After a moment, I said, "This is weird."
She nodded.
"Let's just pretend it's normal," I went on, explaining the
rules of the game, feeling like - what's his name? He's in
that movie with Elizabeth Taylor where she says, "What a
dump!" in a British accent.
I'm kidding. I know his name, but I'm amusing myself.
The name of the film, though, is Who's Afraid of Virginia
Woolfe and you should see it.
For real. It's not like the time I recommended Giant which
you no doubt hated. Who am I talking to?
So Andira says, "College?"
I nod.
"Fall?" she asks.
"Probably. You?"
"University of Miami."
I nod, impressed. She's getting out of here.
"It's not here," she says, probably reading my thoughts
and amusing herself. I know people who do that.
Amuse themselves, I mean.
But also, read minds.
After a moment of just looking at her, awkwardly, I turn
around and wait for the guy to give me my stuff and I go
through the front doors, out into sweet lonesomeness of
life.
I have nothing at all against Andira. It was just strange
and I was unprepared for it.

THOUGH DESTINY; FURTHERMORE ... COINCIDENCE

After dropping off our booty at home, Mother, Aunt, Cousin
Andy, Grandmother, and I all headed over to the thrift store
because we do that. I played Bubble Bobble and got really
near my top score, but not quite. Third Place ain't bad.
If you're in first also.
I know I brag, but it's only because I have such low self-
esteem. I whine only because I hate it.
But before we even pulled into the parking lot, we passed
an accident. An ambulance and some police officers were
there, as well as some witnesses. A man lay unconscious
in one of those stretchers as the paramedics did whatever
they did in those situations. Across the street was an
old man watching everything.
He wore dark colors and seemed to be covered in dirt. A
cap covered his hair, but he wore a beard. Probably used
to be red, but was now yellow-ish. He sat on a grassy area
of land beside the thrift store parking lot and smoked
while a dog sniffed the area around him.

In the store, a pale, brown-haired girl with a face I did
not quite trust rung up my mother's things. And one thing
of mine - a casette that I hoped had a song I'd been
wanting. Behind us stood the old man.
From a distance, he had looked dangerous, but up close he
seemed almost fragile.  His eyes roamed, but not too far.
He looked scared. There was strength in his arms, though.
No doubt about it, I thought.  He's had a hard life.

MONDANE

I took the test to get into college. I don't even know
what it is; I just call it "The Test." The drive there
was awful, and having to wait in a small room was also
terrible. I almost threw up.
On the way there, I saw Collin (is it spelled with two
L's?). He was with a girl I assumed was his girlfriend.
But once again, I realize I've forgotten her.
I know she has glasses. Or I think she does.  She also
had long, black hair. Was she pregnant? I think so.
She was walking like a pregnant woman.
Hm, so maybe I do remember her.
The thing is that I never remember her face.
I saw her at the Mountain Goats concert, the Baptist
Generals concert, and now in San Jac. But I've still
never looked her in the face. I've not yet noted it.
She must be one of them people of the wind. You know,
disappear one day without a trace. And no one for the
life of them can describe her features.
That's a weird note to end on.
Shit, I don't want to end on that sentence either.
Or that one.
Let's try something new.
I'll say a word and you can find another word that
rhymes AND correlates to it. For example, if I say
"sight" you might say "light."  At that point, you
may be reminded of some time when there was a very
bright light in your eyes in, say, the park.  And
then you'll have a memory to end on. Get it?
Another example: If I say "air" and you said "hair"
you might be reminded of a time the wind blew through
your hair at the beach. See? So you'll finish reading
this with a nice memory in your head.
Okay.
So the word is...













felching

THE END