Friday, July 17, 2015

Bailey

Last night I dreamed of my friend Bailey. We met in high school. He was kind of nerdy and so I was I. But like cool nerdy. He had long hair and played music. He had an above ground pool in his backyard. We wrestled in it once and he got a boner. He never said anything about it and neither did I. In my dream I was driving to his house. We were going to prom together. My mom and sister were also in the car. I’m not sure why. The car we drove was pretty dumpy. The breaks didn’t work so I had to spin the car around to make it stop. I almost crashed a couple times. When I got to his house I realized I wasn’t dressed for the prom. I thought he would find that insulting but he didn’t care. I asked him if he could drive me to my dad’s house so I could put on my dress. I said it was pretty. I said it would be worth his while. At my dad’s house I slept in a coffin. My dad said I needed to clean out my coffin because there were bugs in it. They had all circled around an old jigger I guess I left in there. Jiggers are used for measuring liquor. I work at a bar so I know that. Not because I drink too much or anything. After I took out  the jigger all the bugs left. After that we went to the prom and I think I ditched him. When I woke up I googled my old friend and saw that his dad died a year ago. It made me sad. But then I thought how my mom was dead also and figured that these things happen. It’s not a big deal. It’s not like we’re young anymore.

Monday, July 13, 2015

Ashes

I can never find good movies on Netflix. I guess I watch too much tv because when it takes me to the section of recently watched there is always a lot of stuff in it. So I guess maybe the problem is that I can’t find anything new to watch. Sometimes I look for actors I like and then I find movies that way. That’s a good way to find movies. Lots of times the movies I like only have one or two stars. I guess other Netflix users don’t like the things I like. That’s okay. I feel like the Netflix rating system is rigged anyway. I recently watched a movie where some fat lady got skinny and then carried around her burnt up skin in a vial around her neck. It wasn’t as creepy as it sounds. But the whole time I was thinking…that’s not a very big vial. I mean, for a whole bunch of loose skin. I watch a lot of weight loss shows so I feel pretty confident about my assessment. Then at the end of the movie some other lady spread her dead husband’s ashes in the ocean. They made it funny and the dead husband was an asshole but I guess she put his ashes in her friend’s Tupperware and the friend was kind of mad because it was part of a set. But when my mom died the funeral home put her ashes in a box for us. It was a shitty box because we were broke and inside the box was a plastic bag and when my sister and I spread her ashes we had to put them in something more aesthetically pleasing but we didn’t think about it until the last minute so we had to put them in a birthday gift bag we found in my sister’s car. And we transferred the ashes into the gift bag in the parking lot and some of them flew onto the sidewalk. So I guess a little piece of my mom is still there. But in the movie she put them in a Tupperware container which means that either she transferred her husband’s ashes from one shitty box to another or the funeral home just handed her a bunch of ashes. Like with their hands. Into her hands. I thought about it a lot. And then I wondered what I’d like to happen to me when I die. I feel like it would be silly to bury me in a box that will eventually just have some building over it or something. And I don’t think I am going to have any kids to visit my grave or anything. The thought of burning sounds pretty awful and I think they mix you up with other people. I think I’d like to decompose in the woods and just be brought back into the cycle of life. But probably a hiker would find me and they’d think I was murdered and then there would be an investigation into my murder and eventually someone would go to jail for dumping me in the woods. So I guess I’ll take being burned. And then hope I have someone who wants to spread my ashes.

Thursday, July 9, 2015

Adulthood

Adulthood isn’t really what I thought it would be. I mean, when I was younger I thought by twenty I would be married with kids. When I was twenty I thought by thirty I would have a great job and be a success. I’m thirty-five now and I don’t have any expectations for my forties. I hope that I have some job. I hope that maybe I’m in a relationship. I don’t want kids anymore and I don’t plan on being too successful. Do people retire in their sixties? Or seventies? How am I supposed to save up enough money to retire? I remember when I was young and my mom used to stay out all night and when she got home she would say “I never had a childhood.” I was mad at her. I didn’t choose to be born. She must have chosen that, right? I thought she should take care of me. But I sort of get it now. Stuff just happens and then you make the best of it. Like, I think about how my dad worked at 7-11 and the tobacco shop and I used to think he was so much more qualified than that. He was an adult. These jobs were for kids. But I guess he wasn’t. He was just some forty-year old dude who never got his shit together. I see a lot of those dudes around and I hope I don’t end up with one. But, at the same time, I sort of relate to them. And some of them are nice. 

Saturday, July 4, 2015

Forgot Your Name

When I was younger I worked with a boy who wasn’t very nice. He was short and scruffy and good looking but mean and awkward. We had chemistry. We fought a lot but when people were around us they said it was sexy. One time when we were working together he was singing really loud. It annoyed me. I was trying to count money. It was late and I was tired and I just wanted to go home. I had been nice to people all day. I was covered in beer and booze and all kinds of sticky things. I just wanted to count my money. I wanted it to be quiet. But he kept singing. So I told him to shut up. He got mad. He called me names. He told me I was an unhappy person. He said I wanted to make other people unhappy too. He said other things I don’t remember. They made me sad. I was tired and weak and I started to cry. I don’t like to cry in front of people. I like to be strong. He made me cry in front of everyone. The next day he brought me flowers to apologize. I said I did not accept his apology but secretly I was flattered. Later, I got lonely and drunk and tried to kiss him. He said we would be together some day but not today. It wasn’t our time yet. I asked him when it would be our time. He said he didn’t know. Sometimes I think about him. Us together, fighting a lot. And it makes me happy. The only thing is, I forgot his name. 

Thursday, July 2, 2015

The Boardwalk

I used to babysit my sister when I was younger. Like, real young. Since she was a baby. We are five years apart. When she got old enough her and I would venture outside during the summer. Before that we had to stay inside or people would know. That we were alone. When I was twelve or so we went to the Boardwalk. We had summer passes because our mom worked there. We didn’t see our mom everyday but we saw her sometimes on the weekends and she would buy us ice cream and croissants. That’s how I got fat I think. But she had some mothering to make up for so she bought me food. My sister got clothes. To this day I love food. And my sister has way too many clothes. I know because I did her laundry once. Our favorite ride was the pirate ship. It was like a big swing. It didn’t go upside down. Which was good because I was scared of going upside down. It was also next to the food court, which was convenient. Once we got stuck on it and made up songs. Pirate ship songs. When I got older I worked at the candy store on the Boardwalk. My boss was a creep and hit on all the young girls. But not me. My sister would go to the Boardwalk at night with her friends and drink and go on rides when they were closed. She was more adventurous than I was. I was the good girl. When she was twenty eight she had a stroke and I stayed with her in the hospital for three weeks. I dumped her poo out of the bed pan and gagged as she laughed. We made up songs about the nurses and ate Taco Bell. Looking back, it was kind of fun. 

Wednesday, July 1, 2015

Demon

Inside my body is a demon. The demon makes me want to drink a lot. It says…you’ll feel really good once you drink a whole bunch. It says that when I drink a whole bunch I am really smart and funny and kind of sexy. Mostly, it just makes all my anxiety go away. I like it. So I stay away from my demon. I try to control it. But usually the demon gets what it wants. And I feel good for a little bit. And then I order food. Lots of food. And I eat it all. And I wake up and I want to die. I wonder why I can’t stop myself. I wonder why I’m not like other people. I get mad about the money I spent. The money I work so hard to save. The money I could buy something nice with that goes to pizza and booze instead. I wonder what it’s like to wake up feeling good. To wake up and go to the gym. To have goals and ambition. To wake up and be loved. I fight the sadness. I fight the demon. But sometimes I get tired. And I wonder why no one else seems tired too. So I drink. And for a little while, I feel better.