:: 2003 30 December :: 10.47 pm
:: Mood: tearful
:: Music: Turn It On- The Flaming Lips
[ edit | delete ]
remember that day on the ice?
that day last winter when the football field froze over, and everyone went to princeton. and ross and murphy and i stayed at school, and went sliding across the ice on lunch trays from irwin. i remember the way the ice was tinted pink, faded plastic Ls frozen underwater. the coconut patties my aunt sent me for valentines day, bright yellowbox that made the snow look colgate white. i’m a crest kid, though. i remember spinning in circles, new blue adidas, tennis shoes not sneakers, flat-laced in the hallway in lower with nikol sitting next to me. lawrenceville hoodie with the inside still fuzzy, feeling the warm wrists and freezing my butt off sitting on the pond. i remember skating and bright pink cold fingers, i remember falling over. i remember the feeling of ross’s black fleece sweatshirt. goddam innocence.
this kid andrew just called me. he’s at my next-door neighbor will fortenbaugh’s house. . i went to school with andrew for five years, back in the day. he never really liked me very much.. and he still thinks i’m kind of a freak, i think. but apparently, my stint in rehab has convinced him that, while weird, i am also something of a badass, so he has come around and decided to give me another shot. anyways, he was calling because his friend carl wanted to hook up with me. this is amusing because i have never heard of carl. apparently, he rode the bus to st. mark’s with tess last year, and she would talk about me and bring in photographs and share kent school memories and such. andrew, when he drove by my lane, said something like, “yeah, this chick lives there,” and when carl questioned him, said my name was lucy. carl decided that he knew me somehow, and figured out that i was tess’s friend. right. so, according to andrew, carl has a big wang.
will’s input: “well, i’m not the best judge of men or anything, so i dunno, but believe me, carl is a MAN…“
so they talked at me for a while until i made some sense of what was going on, and then finally went off to frolic elsewhere on the condition that i would someday hook up with carl.
i asked them if they wanted to come over for breakfast. i guess that was probably the wrong thing to say.
camp called. and my mom picked up the phone after i did. and i was talking. and she interrupted me and said in that blatantly condescending tone that she always uses on the phone with my friends,
“Hiiiiii… it’s 10:50, it’s too late to take a call. We’re going to hang up now, okay? Mmmm kay?”
“Mom, the people who called before were screwing around, can I please take this call really quickly?”
“It’s 10:50, it’s too late for a call, time to hang up now! Alright. Let’s hang up.”
“Camp?… (sounding like an idiot) I’ll.. i’ll call you tomorrow. i’m sorry. umm, bye.”
i’m not really complaining about this. it’s always been the same way; she’s never actually cared if i have friends or not. but, the whole point of jessica’s quasi-family therapy was for my mom and me to work together on our relationship. together. right now, i definitly feel like she’s putting in jack shit, and while maybe i’m not giving it my all, i’m still trying. really, really hard.
it’s really, really hard to be nice to this woman.
what i can hear, through the wall-to-wall carpeting and the floor, of my parents argument:
you need serious help.
(stomp, stomp, loud footsteps)
no you need help!
i’m not the one who sits around the house all day
(very loud footstep)
no! you just run away to the office!
what am i supposed to do?!
(stomp stomp stomp >>doorslam<< stomp)
[whisper whisper]
uh oh. my dad’s coming.
-11:41-
fuckshitfuckshitfuckshit i HATE this sofuckinggoddamnmuch i hate igt i hate it i hate it god FUCK! i miss conor and i nmiss nikol and i want them to stop yelling and being angry and staring at me and staring at me cry and making me comje out of my rooom and making me sit up out of the corner of the sofa and taking thw dog away GOD FUCK GOD DAMN STUPID PEOPLE I HATE THIS HOUSE SO MUCH SOMETIMES why can’t everything go back to the way it was before i was so bitchy bitchy life ruiner bitch whore from hell, mad crazy head bitch such a cute nickname, right? stupid stupid goodman and stuipid beer, FUCK, stpid little idiot girl thinking when the lights turn off it makes everythign different GODAMNIT MY STUPIDF ASS FATHER WIOLL NOT LEAVE ME ALONE AND HE WONT GO AWAY AND UI WANT TO GO SIT IN THE CUOPbOARD AGIAN.
“why are you here?”
“i’ll be here all night if you don’t turn the computer off and go to bed, mmkay?”
11:49- dad walks around room and turns off bed, grunts, gets back on other bed
11:50- dad picks up “preschool pastimes” index card book from my playgroup on woodland drive and noisily looks through it
11:51- dad: “why is your computer making that noise?”
11:52- “i’m asking you to finish up.”
11:53- dad goes on endless rant about how my computer is not recieving proper ventilation and i need to go to bed.
11:54- dad threatens to take computer.
SCORE: dad 1, lucy 0
=game over=
