He’ll be loud around other people but quiet around me. He’ll be athletic. He’ll have blond hair. He’ll be friendly but awkward at first. He’ll appreciate dreams and the little things in life. He’ll like ethnic food. He’ll have two close friends but he still keeps secrets from them. He’ll be unique but won’t stick out in a crowd. He’ll be compulsive (positive and negative). He’ll go to acoustic shows. He’ll wear sweat bands. He’ll have a small penis. He’ll never get a tattoo. He’ll make me mellow. He’ll make me swear. He’ll let me try new things. He’ll be mine.

I made a joke, you laughed and looked for that book. I went on with life and you found your book. You laughed again and repeated the joke, I felt stupid.

I don’t want you to smile, I don’t want you to look sad. You don’t need to put on a show to be yourself. I want it raw and rough but tender all the same. Your fingers can be tender but only if the light hits them just right. We’re both on the same team I know it, you accepted my application years before I even applied.

I can walk in the middle of a crowd and know that if I need help someone will help. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and know that if I don’t want to be noticed I won’t be. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and feel whole. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and respect the others. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and make friends. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and want to run. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and see people I’ll never see again. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and feel totally at home. I can walk in the middle of a crowd and feel alone. I’m not the only one. When 2 or more people feel alone but are together are they still alone? Being alone is a made up concept that only a selfish person could have made up.

When I think nobody else hears me. When I think I am the only one giving. When I think I am the only one to blame. When I think other people are doing the same thing. When I think I can either empower myself or tear myself down. When I think I feel. When I think I sometimes don’t like what I hear. When I think it all goes down from there. When I think I usually analyze objects. When I think I am not quiet. The only time I am quiet is when I’m not thinking. When I’m sleeping I’m dreaming and thinking. Nobody is ever truly quiet so don’t ask me why I’m quiet because I’m not, I have the biggest mouth (I mean mind) than anybody else in this room.

I heard my voice today. I heard it a lot. But not as much as the other people because on another level I knew I didn’t want to hear my voice. I knew I didn’t have to listen to it I knew I could walk away but my voice is my voice and I might as well get accustomed to it, right? “I swear I don’t sound like that in real life” she said. Hah, fuck you do I thought really loudly. I thought so loud I bet somebody else heard me. I kept looking at people when they were talking because usually thats what you do but nobody else did it because they knew how I felt about my voice. My voice. My voice. My voice. My voice. My voice sounds like this, this is my voice and I can’t like it or not like it because its My voice. Mine.

I always let myself win, and you always get mad at the simple things, I feel bad that you feel so strongly against the little things, because the little things make me happy. I’ll just blur that shit out.

Author: Arundhati Roy

After reading this book (a six month journey) I felt relief, sadness, and contentment. This book contains layers, lots and lots of layers (incest, caste, religion, and sexuality). Each layer was written out in such a way that is believable. Sometimes the layers got confusing making much of the first half of the book hard to get a hold of. However, the ending ties up any loose ends that the reader may have had.

Roy plays with words and when I say play, I mean handles and examines them and isn’t afraid to break boundaries that other authors have set forth.

I can’t help but think that Arundhati is very childish in real life. She has the ability to personify children very believably. I like how she added surprise an intrigue even on the last page, how she explained the seemingly unimportant details while not explaining others. In this book you can hear her voice, her unique voice. I don’t regret reading this book one bit.

I don’t know what I feel. Don’t feel silly. I’ll try not to. Thanks alot. For what? Escaping the time. They’re giggling! Run away or throw a rock at them! I can’t, they know we’re here… We both know we didn’t mean the same thing. I suppose, why? We’re both right. We stand corrected. Imagine what being on the news would feel like. I’d rather make lists y’know. I know, but remember? What? How long that second was? Talk about the bad times. I remember the bad. Are you there yet?
You could say that…it usually is a happy thing, not right now though. I hate that. What? The unhappy love. I can’t wait until I can feel totally comfortable with a male. I’m always in my head and my head always seems to be doing the talking and I want to get out of that.

You really don’t have to be a pushover all the time. Part of me wanted you to be because at the time it was the right thing to be, do what I say and you’ll succeed in life. But thats not true, only this one time will you succeed. Only this one time should you really be a pushover. All other times you should stick up for yourself and do what you feel is right.

I know that there is a missing link and thats why the music is playing. I know this feeling inside of me, this clenched up heart, this muddled brain, and I know what it leads too and I hate those chalky pills so much. I miss the music already but I can play it in my own head. I can make my own music without becoming cheese, I can, I can, I CAN!

He looks so good but I can’t touch the television screen. I can’t stand next to him, I can’t smell him. I can look at myself in the television reflection but thats boring. I’ve seen myself before. It was an addiction but not anymore. Nope, no more self enjoyment, no more pleasure, no more hope, no more steely cold. None of that. I don’t even know whats going on in those moving pictures. I can’t wait until that age when I can feel safe to do what you did but do it with more passion and more recklessness and less thought. Maybe then I will feel good about not being able to see you. Maybe then I’ll have validation. Its a diy strip club and I can tell your dreams are coming true (mine aren’t if you really want to know). I don’t want to be looking over my shoulders all the time. Allthetime.

I think its a bit of magic how you’re getting smashed all the time. I like the little hamster and your perfect hair. Everybody always pretends they have claws. I know what that sound means. All the time I hear it. Allthetime. I can’t wait until I get to that place, it’ll feel so good. I felt nervous but that can only mean one thing and usually new things are good things. I said I can call I suppose. I’m scared, the message you left, the broken up language, the beep that cut off your train of thought. My thoughts are a steam engine of fuck.

The computers own me and so do your vegetables. My whale went perfectly, thankyou very much. I’ll pretend I never used that helpful thing and get on with life. I’ve had it up to hear with your shenanigans, so lets kiss and then we can say we made up! No more dreaming in this coming week.

I could tell by how your feet sounded against the tiled floor that you were depressed and stuck in a rut. A rut that kept going and going. Work, smoke break, work, smoke break, work, smoke break. I’m not totally sure about the work thing, it was more like ‘work’. You work in the corner of the large supermarket, nestled between the advil and tampons. I don’t think anybody notices you, or the way you walk but I do and I hope that makes you a little bit happy.

I wish I had a dream job. Of course I do dream, I just can’t bring myself to dream about jobs..maybe I should though. I’m tired of you backdooring me but I can’t do anything back because thats not who I am. Karma will come and bite your ass twice, not just once, twice. It seems like whenever I have my heart set on something and don’t get it or aren’t able to do it I end up doing something just as good anyways. Maybe if I never worried about things or got my heart set on things good things wouldn’t happen. Don’t feel sick or sorry, please, do it for me. You told me “The Good and Bad is always relative. Goodluck” and then I asked if I could smell your rose and you thrust it into my nose, so I pretended to smell when really all I could do was congest the snot. This is what I am in this stupid arm wrested chair, with nature a knocking, happy. Its creepy how some people can ask a couple questions and yet pin down your personality and what you are like. I believe I am an INFP somedays and a PFNI other days, thankyou very much. Am I missing out on life’s noises by listening to music? What have I missed out on, and what will I miss out on?

This is where I lie. This is where I tell you my body is perfect, my hair never looks combed but looks neat, my clothes match but doesn’t look like I put too much time in them, my breath smells sweet but not tangy, I smell like old spice but not like axe. But when you get to know me you’ll know I lied and when I get to know you I’ll know that you lied the first time we met too. Its okay, because when we lie we feel like we’re doing what we’re supposed to be doing, its what society does so why can’t we do it? But now I don’t have to lie anymore because we both know we would be able to see through it. That kind of scares me but I can practice later in the mirror, when you’re not looking. I know what your muse is, does that scare you at all?

He’s got a carrot in there and he needs a toothpick.  And I like the way you pop up everywhere, I don’t know how to respond sometimes, maybe if my ears worked properly I could respond. It looks messy but it sounds like funk and thats what matters right now. And we need more bridges, many many more because I want to see you, and touch you. Dreams can do that I suppose.

I’m quite sure I know all the short cuts. I’ve got my doubts. Theres a point, its always a point, when mental illness isn’t an illness anymore. Theres a point when I want to slap your right cheek and make it beet red and then plead insanity in court. It isn’t supposed to be hard but when I see that funny look in your eyes and the way you try to dress like a normal being I get scared and that heavy feeling in my chest returns to whatever the fuck I know and try not to know again. Those couple of words make me feel good and then they get spun around like usual, hey whats new fat cherub? I don’t know where that came from (I should have guessed when you leafed through my magazine), but I walked you down the hall (the sunny one, and the one where my locker is). We walked down the sunny one and I asked you about vibes (I thought I was living up to my childhood friend and thought he’d be proud of me if he was there, but he’s long gone), you said you got them sometimes, and then we were in my hallway. You said that vegetarians usually flocked together and then made a sweeping motion like you were flocking to somebody on the right side of the hallway. I laughed just then, and imitated you because aparently thats just what I do. Take other peoples silly actions and make them sillier, but not to hurt your feelings at all. I stood there with my shifty eyes and I know that when I get home I’ll classify you, you’re one of those people that has the body language of a shy fifth grader but have the personality of a giant (just because they are huge and usually friendly). I told you what I was making for supper and you told me your life story. I hurried the conversation as we walked down the stairs and you said you were going out for coffee, I thought that was nice and asked about your friend. You said his name was A.A. I thought that was a funny name and laughed in my head, but asked you where he lived. In the meadows you say with your checked over coat and off white sunglasses nestled in your draped scarf. We walked, you were stiff, I started opening up my truck door, and I said something that I felt embarrased about immediatley afterwards. I don’t like ending conversations but I had no reason not to so I was stuck with the dirty stuff so you could walk into the meadows to meet your friend. Maybe your more then friends, or maybe you were in another life, I wish I could pinpoint why I want to know but I just do. My nose gets itchy when I don’t know.

I didn’t think I had it anymore but when you put my fingers to a keyboard I can’t not have it. I think I like the brown one better and I’m getting my doubts again. What if its actually at this time? What if we come late and they are out of the rectangular papers. I’ll add them on yourspace.com. I’ve heard too many good thngs about you, bitch slap.

I know what you are and I’ll tell you someday because I know that you know you don’t know. I really do have a lot to say to you. I’m almost all caught up now.

I drove you there, I sat there like Zac and could see the resemblances of your voice in hers.  I’d never seen her before but I swear she was your twin. I get off on having secrets but you lay it all on the table, maybe thats how we’re so different and can never be the same at all. I sat and changed my leg positions countless times, this way and that. The music was mellow and everybody was awkward. She thought the drunk kids were immature, he thought it was funny but didn’t laugh, she was embarrased because she didn’t know anyone, and he thought he was stupid and not comfortable with his sexuality, she just was there because she had to be, she was the hostess, he just wanted to get some, she just wanted to get some, and I sat there like nothing. That’s how it always goes. Life won’t change its rythms and I can handle that. I chewed into that chocolate egg and released its oozing goodness, and then I chewed another, and another, and another, and another untill they were all gone, thats the point where I felt fat. Oh god, there they go again and he schemes up a plan to break up those noises, those noises! He presses the red eye reducter and I know there are some good picture on there of me and bad pictures of you so I hope somebody puts them up on facebook for the whole world to see, I wish. They are all stupid and ignorant but I can’t do anything about it. Maybe I should move to the futon (thats where I go). I haven’t cried yet because nobody deserves my tears. How am I any better than this, its the music I listen too, and the jokes I make. Maybe I’m just as bad. I should be in a dump somwhere scrounging up some food and clothing. This couldn’t be more wrong. It took forever to get to sleep and stop muttering my half of the argument. I deny everything, this isn’t my family.

Golden Drops
Grizzly Bear - Little Brother - 6:24
MGMT - Kids - 5:27
Royksopp - What Else is There - 5:07
Vampire Weekend - Bryn - 2:11
What Made Milwaukee Famous - Sultan - 2:46
Fedo Viola - The Sad Song - 3:58

I put on my green hoody because it smelled nice. I jumped in my truck with my crisp clothing items and turn the radio up loud. I like to hear people talking, makes me feel good. They said it was St. Patricks day and I swore. I didn’t want to lay on the cheese today but the cheese greased me up so good. I thought my favourite store was open on tuesdays, and I was going to buy myself a painting. I walked in like I owned the place and made eye contact with the big man with grooves in his head. He said they were closed. I kept walking and then stopped and asked “are you kidding me?” he said “yes, I can always keep a straight face” or something like that. I could tell he wasn’t kidding and felt stupid for being stupid. I walked out and all the old people watched me go. I felt stupider. The drive home was supposed to be care free and without any bad emoticions. The police car was nesteld between the place I used to babysit and the place that kills animals. I was wondering why everybody was slamming on the breaks. Maybe because they were embarrased too and maybe the police had an embarrasement meter and I was over the legal limit. I could’ve cried, if I was into that.
Whatever.

It was about time I got some action but I wanted to give some of it out too. Its creepy the way you tried to get me and asked me. If you have to ask its not natural, trust me on this one.