By Nous

                          February 24, 2005

FEB23: STUPID MOUTH SHUT

Wednesday doldrums. English class = lecture. Here's a poem I wrote
in class while a blond girl with a scent of vanilla swirling about
her tried to catch my attention:

Classroom windows - open mouths
Vomiting onto the silent students
The scenes that must surely be made of paint
Everything is paint
Everyone is only somebody else

Not very good? I didn't think so, which is the point.
Understand, I went into class feeling strange and weak and not up
to anything at all. So when the professor entered the classroom and
said, "Good morning! [My name here] I need to see you after class!"
I was not only shocked, I was ... pleased?
Yes, it seems that way. I cocked my head in confusion, and then
continued writing my poem with a smile on my face, the only thought
going through my head being, "At least it's something."
Yes, anything would do today. Anything at all.
But as I sat there letting the lecture pierce my head like sleet, I
became afraid. My stomach turned. For what reason was she calling me
after class? Insanity! I had done nothing wrong!
Of course, I hadn't done anything wrong, but that's simply the way I
think. No, nothing bad. Something ... good?
Well, no. Not quite, anyway. At least, by academic standards, it was
a compliment to me, but I didn't feel it was a good wind that blew my
way.  You see,  the professor wanted me in the honors class next
semester. And not only that, but she informed me that she would find
out if it was not too late to get me into the honors class for this
semester!
Ah, how flattered I felt. And how sick. I wanted to vomit then and
there. Words caught in my throat came out as murmurs and non-words.
Grunts and sighs.
I did this a few times as the professor told me to find out my grade
point average and all of that nonsense before she looked at me, as
if completely confused and said, "You're really shy, like all writers.
At least, really shy with me."
And I knew she was trying to figure me out.
Out in the, hall I was introduced to the honors English teacher who
JUST SO HAPPENED to be walking by. At first, I thought I was trying
to avoid her eyes, but I realized that I couldn't stop looking at
her necklace. Round, gold, inscribed with a symbol - it looked like
a Mayan amulet. I noticed my professor watching me.
Professor Jay, the honors English teacher, told me to go down to
her office and get some applications. Then she would see if I could
get into her class. After all, I had made B's and C's the previous
semester, so I had to face the bureacracy.
Do you see how unnerving this is? I didn't even tell them I had
already taken Comp1 and failed it.
I went downstairs by myself to get the papers, telling myself it
was a mistake. God must have gotten the files mixed up.
I don't like this. I don't like it at all.

The thunder carries with it rain. And soon, the rain will fall.

FEB24: NIGHT LIKE A RIVER

Saw Cat On a Hot Tin Roof last night. Paul Newman, excellent as
always. Elizabeth Taylor, iffy. That guy who played Newman's father,
great. Reminded me of Ben Kennedy, too.
Stop thinking I'm mad or something. I'm not mad. Not at you, not at
anyone. I'm just really sad right now, that's all. And that's all I
have to say about that.
I dreamt about all of you last night. I had individual dreams for
everyone. Sloth, when a lot of weird things were happening in my
dream (felt chaotic), you called me up out of nowhere and said a
weird thing. I don't remember it. But I remember we went somewhere
even weirder. Don't remember that either. Too much happened in these
dreams to remember much detail.
John, you were in it at some point. In fact, you, Jason, Fulkerson,
and Sloth were in the same room and you kept saying ridiculous things.
Also, you looked like a huge child, chubby and giggly.
There were a lot of others, but they've already blurred together.
These days are not very good for remembering.
Nousy, Nousy, I think it's sad to be a Nousy, sometimes.

No wonder school has felt very aggressive. Full moons and menstrual
cycles run the goddamned world. Why all the small shirts all of a
sudden, the perfume and politeness? Even my teacher was hitting on
me.
I don't know how this isn't kind of scary for other people. It's
like living in the Twilight Zone "where I wake up the same but
eveyone else is different."
All yesterday I felt nothing, no emotion, like a cabbage.
Listen to me, I'll try not to be so listless.

And indeed, the rain fell, welcoming me into the arms of another
day. The rain talked endlessly about nothing at all as I drove to
school and met the many smiling faces who felt suddenly alive.
Rain will do that. Wet hair and clothes bring a glow to the cheek.
Driving home from school, I saw a flock of birds - four or five -
gliding over the cars that went too fast in spite of the rain.
They looked pink or purple and were large and magnificent. I
could have sworn they were pterodactyls.

Okay, I'm feeling better now. Spin the Big Wheel, Nous! The world
may just be your rose garden!