and then last night's diversion was reading some old notes I'd written high school (saved for me in a scrapbook by good ol' Tina P) with excerpts of terrible off-the-cuff teenage poetry:
"my pulse rocks to the beat
of the hum of a girl
who sits on the street corner
playing with her see-through panties
while Moses parts the water
flowing from her skin...
my car breaks down
outside your house...
your car is stopped
you say come inside
but i'm bleeding
and my blood clashes
with the upholstery..."
90's ephemera:
"I got a new Sassy today and it was good..."
and bad attempts at humorous wisdom:
"sometimes i think i have to cut myself in half to be whole again but then i realize that for god's sake i'm not playdough."
There were also some bits that gave me insights in retrospect. I realized for the first time how these sorts of notes really record something very precise about my experience as a high schooler, gen x-er, child of divorce, alternakid, whatever. It wasn't such a bad distraction, in the end.
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