The Weird Kid
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Find me the Friar's Magic Cowl
Miserable stuff happens and I find myself hours from home last night, holding it together just long enough to go into Fred Meyer and buy wood and wieners.
I need these things because I'm planning on spending the night alone in a tent. That's how bad it became at home, all thanks to me.
I don't know where anything is in the store and I'm on the constant verge of a sob. I'm so raw I have fabricated telepathic connections with the other shoppers. Most of them are thinking how much they hate me, which is fair enough. I pass one girl in a tight soft blue shirt. She is curly-haired, and very fat, dimples in her elbows, cheekbones burying her eyes. I almost start to cry because I love her. I can see myself holding her in front of the bacon case, snuggling into her sad softness.
"Oh God!! You're fat! I'm so sorry you're fat. I'm fat too!! OH GOD I'm so sorry we're fat!!!"
I go to the most popular campground on the Oregon Coast because I feel safe there. They are full, of course, but I wait twenty minutes in the fog outside the ranger station to be given the special spot reserved for handicap people. After 7pm, they'll give it to non-wheelies.
And it's like I found a rip in reality, slipped through to a place that isn't tainted by myself. I am awake in that spot for three hours, and...I'm free of me for all three of them.
My fat girl in the blue shirt appears from a car, and walks into the yurt next to my site. She's angry at a drab young man who is barely there, "I don't see why I have to explain every little thing I do to you." Later she is joined by a little sister, practically a twin, but louder, and the three talk into the darkness about penises. How big the man's is compared to the hot dogs they are eating, what truly constitutes a "teeny weenie." Then the sisters begin a fart war, amplified by the hardness of the picnic benches. All in all I am glad I didn't hug her in the Fred Meyers. She probably wouldn't have offered much comfort.
On the other side of me a 16 year old with a fully formed man's voice has found driftwood that is a Magic Cudgel. He berrates his 9 year old brother throughout the night. "No, dumbass. You can't get me because I have the Immunity Gauntlet and you're going to need the Friar's Cowl to end the curse. Wait, no, okay now I'll be the Friar." He spins in a circle with his stick, driving into the dirt, "ENERGIZE! Prrrrurrrururu...okay now you're free." I think if ever someone needed to receive a cape for Christmas, it is this boy.
And I don't know what they're thinking of me. A woman who put up a tent and is eating wieners alone. Alone except for her fat dog who doesn't want to be there and keeps trying to jump back in the car. I think the reason I was so free last night is that I don't believe they were thinking much about me at all.
It's a tactic I need to try.
I need these things because I'm planning on spending the night alone in a tent. That's how bad it became at home, all thanks to me.
I don't know where anything is in the store and I'm on the constant verge of a sob. I'm so raw I have fabricated telepathic connections with the other shoppers. Most of them are thinking how much they hate me, which is fair enough. I pass one girl in a tight soft blue shirt. She is curly-haired, and very fat, dimples in her elbows, cheekbones burying her eyes. I almost start to cry because I love her. I can see myself holding her in front of the bacon case, snuggling into her sad softness.
"Oh God!! You're fat! I'm so sorry you're fat. I'm fat too!! OH GOD I'm so sorry we're fat!!!"
I go to the most popular campground on the Oregon Coast because I feel safe there. They are full, of course, but I wait twenty minutes in the fog outside the ranger station to be given the special spot reserved for handicap people. After 7pm, they'll give it to non-wheelies.
And it's like I found a rip in reality, slipped through to a place that isn't tainted by myself. I am awake in that spot for three hours, and...I'm free of me for all three of them.
My fat girl in the blue shirt appears from a car, and walks into the yurt next to my site. She's angry at a drab young man who is barely there, "I don't see why I have to explain every little thing I do to you." Later she is joined by a little sister, practically a twin, but louder, and the three talk into the darkness about penises. How big the man's is compared to the hot dogs they are eating, what truly constitutes a "teeny weenie." Then the sisters begin a fart war, amplified by the hardness of the picnic benches. All in all I am glad I didn't hug her in the Fred Meyers. She probably wouldn't have offered much comfort.
On the other side of me a 16 year old with a fully formed man's voice has found driftwood that is a Magic Cudgel. He berrates his 9 year old brother throughout the night. "No, dumbass. You can't get me because I have the Immunity Gauntlet and you're going to need the Friar's Cowl to end the curse. Wait, no, okay now I'll be the Friar." He spins in a circle with his stick, driving into the dirt, "ENERGIZE! Prrrrurrrururu...okay now you're free." I think if ever someone needed to receive a cape for Christmas, it is this boy.
And I don't know what they're thinking of me. A woman who put up a tent and is eating wieners alone. Alone except for her fat dog who doesn't want to be there and keeps trying to jump back in the car. I think the reason I was so free last night is that I don't believe they were thinking much about me at all.
It's a tactic I need to try.
posted by Imez at 12:53 PM
6 Comments:
I at the coast too. It's foggy. That seems appropriate somehow.
Self-consciousness is a curse and a vanity.
You don't sound so good. I'm sorry.
This needs to be written for the stage.
You alright?
Aww, sweetie....I'm thinking you need a hug....of course I think that hugs can cure anything though.:)
so, the Pollyanna side of me is sending you a virtual one... the reality side of me is going to pour you a big ol glass of 7&7 tonight and toast your....thoughts.
Cheers and hugs.
i do think you have in some way manifested my mind. or i have manifested yours. or some other weird thing.
i like reading you.
i read the comment from lu saying that this needs to be written for the stage.
i see the allure. your writing and this particular scene offer a reality and a reassurance that intrigues me. would you mind if i used the premises of this for a short film? i'd of course give credit where credit is due...
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