1 you seem sad
2. yeah
1. you look sad
2. yeah
1. so... are you sad or what?
2. yeah, im sad
1. why
2. i dont know i just feel sad. and then i start to think about things and i get even more sad
1. what kind of things?
2. well. my heart kind of hurts and its too hot out right now, i dont sleep well anymore.
...
today i bought this beautiful peach, it smelled so perfect and i thought it would taste the same and when i bit into it, nothing, then i dropped it. and i was going to eat it even if it wasnt perfect but i guess its all the same.
...
and alot of days my job feels like im treading water in the deep end of the pool except my legs dont work.
...
and last night was electric, the streets were on fire, i felt anything was possible, like maybe i was learning how to breathe underwater but then i talk to you and remember you dont love me the way i want you to, and it makes me feel selfish.
1. oh
2. yeah
...
and some little kid peed on me so theres that.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Friday, May 7, 2010
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
thank you for calling
a women named debbie, with perpetual bad hair days somewhere in Oklahoma, where it has dropped from 105 to 75 degrees, helped me.
a lady named Mercedes, who had a particular accent and would trust me with her children, helped me.
and then there was Alan, a man who to say mumbled would be generous, did not.
transfer
transfer
transfer
ive given the same damn information to at least 16 different individuals. i feel as if im in the beginning stages of a language course.
6812
94124
5253
press pound (is pound the verb that activates it all) who's the subject, me or them?
124
44236
8734 9218 7342 9187
press pound
activate all over again
verify
verify
verify
Ive lost the reason for this call in the first place. but another twenty minutes on hold with bad electronic sym-phony music will clear my head and remind me in enough time to start the numeric conversation all over again
6985
94124
8734 9218 7342 9187
ill transfer you, are three little words i hear over and over again
i envision that i started at the top. called a man in the a corner office with a stellar view of a strip mall, abandoned warehouse and parking lot filled with SUVs, mini vans and one lone chartreuse beetle that belongs to the not gay-gay guy who works in IT.
with each transfer im dropped a floor of a 3 floored skyscraper somewhere in the plain states.
By the time I get to the basement Im hanging out with a lady 6 cups of coffee deep, who hasnt seen the sun in 5 years and has a husband who smokes reds and has a little problem no one talks about when at thanksgiving dinner, drunk he unknowingly knocks over a candle and sets fire to the candied yams and plastic tablecloth.
this women, named something to the effect of doris, elaine, betty or maybe lavendra, and i have more in common then id like to admit.
we both bake when stressed, smoke too many cigarettes on the sly from our family, and have a less than fulfilled sex life.
shes the last stop on the 87 minute phone conversation that will inevitably end up on a phone bill i wont be able to pay next month.
i give her all the same information i gave the last 23 people, shell perhaps take pity on me, type in my numbers, and since i cant go any deeper into the ground without asking to be transferred to a coffin company. she'll have to help.
deferred, forbeared, royally fucked, all words that hold no actual significance but mean that at least for the next two months i can breathe, cut back the booze bill, and save a little to start making payments again.
it all ends the same way, feigned chipper attitude, plastered smile and a false sense of hope, with 4 little words, "thank you for calling."
a lady named Mercedes, who had a particular accent and would trust me with her children, helped me.
and then there was Alan, a man who to say mumbled would be generous, did not.
transfer
transfer
transfer
ive given the same damn information to at least 16 different individuals. i feel as if im in the beginning stages of a language course.
6812
94124
5253
press pound (is pound the verb that activates it all) who's the subject, me or them?
124
44236
8734 9218 7342 9187
press pound
activate all over again
verify
verify
verify
Ive lost the reason for this call in the first place. but another twenty minutes on hold with bad electronic sym-phony music will clear my head and remind me in enough time to start the numeric conversation all over again
6985
94124
8734 9218 7342 9187
ill transfer you, are three little words i hear over and over again
i envision that i started at the top. called a man in the a corner office with a stellar view of a strip mall, abandoned warehouse and parking lot filled with SUVs, mini vans and one lone chartreuse beetle that belongs to the not gay-gay guy who works in IT.
with each transfer im dropped a floor of a 3 floored skyscraper somewhere in the plain states.
By the time I get to the basement Im hanging out with a lady 6 cups of coffee deep, who hasnt seen the sun in 5 years and has a husband who smokes reds and has a little problem no one talks about when at thanksgiving dinner, drunk he unknowingly knocks over a candle and sets fire to the candied yams and plastic tablecloth.
this women, named something to the effect of doris, elaine, betty or maybe lavendra, and i have more in common then id like to admit.
we both bake when stressed, smoke too many cigarettes on the sly from our family, and have a less than fulfilled sex life.
shes the last stop on the 87 minute phone conversation that will inevitably end up on a phone bill i wont be able to pay next month.
i give her all the same information i gave the last 23 people, shell perhaps take pity on me, type in my numbers, and since i cant go any deeper into the ground without asking to be transferred to a coffin company. she'll have to help.
deferred, forbeared, royally fucked, all words that hold no actual significance but mean that at least for the next two months i can breathe, cut back the booze bill, and save a little to start making payments again.
it all ends the same way, feigned chipper attitude, plastered smile and a false sense of hope, with 4 little words, "thank you for calling."
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
man: i love you
women: stop
m: why? i love you
w: well i dont love you.
m. dont lie, it makes me sad
w. dont be condescending, it infuriates me.
m. im telling you i love you
w. and i am saying I. DO. NOT. LOVE. YOU.
m. i dont believe you. you know we only get one love in this life. just one. and there are only so many opportunites you get to recoginize it. and once thats windows closed its closed forever. and you know what your problem is, you think youll know it when it happens. youve thought so long about it that youve mapped every tiny detail. how itll happen, what youll say, what he'll say. the entire intrigue has played in front of your eyes a million times. you know how he walks, what makes him laugh untill he snorts, if he snores, the place on his back that makes him shiver, if hes a boot or sneaker man. youve thought youre great love to death, and the sad part is that hes never been born, except in the sad dreams that keep you up at night. youre wound so tightly around this image of what you think it should be like, you cant see whats right in front of your face
m. and its sad, but i still love you
w. fuck you
Wednesday, April 22, 2009
an old women and a young women sit on a bench
old lady: stop it will ya!
young lady: (confused) what?
old lady: just stop it ok?
young lady: im sorry i dont think i have any idea what youre -
old lady: really? you have no idea? hear lets try this on for size? STOP TRYING TO WRITE ME!!! youre never gonna know what ive been through till youve been through it, so just stop! stop trying to "tell my story" and "feel it" of whatever it is you "writers" try to do.
silence
if you can even call your self that
more silence
old lady: you may think youve been to hell but let me tell you little lady, youve never even felt the tips of flames. the horrors ive seen havent danced into your dreams at night, the air has been sucked out of my lungs the necks of everyone ive ever loved have been snapped in front of my tear stained cheeks so STOP!
they sit there, the old lady starts to cry and the young women has no idea what to do.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
tea party
a small table is in the center of the stage with a very expensive tea set and all the fixings for a very civilized afternoon tea party.
2 kids, Max and Marjorie, sit at the table dressed in their mothers over sized clothes.
which include but not limited to
puffy dresses
floppy hats
pumps
clip on earrings
strings of pearls
(max is wearing large yellow plastic dish washing gloves)
* a note, no matter how vicious the dialogue seems it should be delivered with the appropriate amount of decorum and politeness for well bred folks
Marjorie: Biscuit?
Max shakes his head no
marjorie: petit four?
Max shakes no again
Marjorie: You know when i invited you to tea this afternoon i thought we could have a decent conversation... you know that thing where one person asks a question and usually the other responds...no? - nothing huh? a breath, a pulse??? anything????
silence
Marjorie: oh fine
(in a nasty whisper)i dont know what i expected from someone like you
Marjorie: you know, i know what you do at night. (she looks side to side to see if anyone can hear her and in a hushed whisper) with your pee pee
pause
Marjorie: oh well! i think its disgusting. people like us do not do things like that, we go to academy, and wear ralph lauren. for god sakes you are a child model, ralph lauren child models just dont do things like that. i just--- (shes overwhelmed her self)
(regaining composure) well ive said my peace. I think its disgusting and demand you to stop.
Max starts to pull off the gloves, Marjorie Freaks out, all decorum is lost
Marjorie: WHAT?!?!?!?!?!? NOOOOoooOOOOO stop stop Stop STOP STooooooooPPPPPP!!!! you touch that tea pot you buy it! i know where those hands have been and if you thinking youre spreading any of that to me and my friends (she looks around as if the room is filled with many people) well you just think again
max stops, takes his cup and saucer, drinks from it, gargles it around his mouth, tips his head back and as if he was a whale lets it spray all over marjorie, her perfect tea set and the floor.
Marjorie: You revolt me.
(as the lights go down we see marjorie pull out a bottle of lysol and spray max's cup, and the rest of the table right down to the last plastic scone)
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
