FLOYD
Sure, "I think", as Descartes might have said, but that's about it. My guarantee ends there, because anything after that is completely random and subject to you.
You as in vouz, people in general. You will do any number of things to try make me back down on my promises, as if somehow they are the truth.
Maybe you're the ones who have too much invested in me?
If you want to know what to expect, don't make me promise you anything past the fact that, I do in fact, think.
Our love has the same parameters, everything past the love is a random occurrence, subject to any given situation that VOUZ PRESENTEZ.
None of that should have stood in the way.
None of it can stand in the way, when you put no expectations past the fact of love.
FLOYD
1/31/2009
FOLKS
B. McGILLICUDDY
Transient fucking thing, people are.
If you have any kind of understanding of how life came to be here, then you know that we only sit tight for sixty or so years because that’s the way it had to happen. Successful reproduction is the driving force behind our going and goings on. Successful re-pro-duction.
Now we go on and about moving from thing to thing like it’s our business to be this ADHD. But we're neglectin' to take a hint from the much calmer, steadier forces that keep on keeping on, without being busy or hard-pressed to get stuff done. Look at trees for instance.
A billion years ago, trees got it all figured out, just set themselves down, organism and environment working in harmony, without any need to fuck with all else, and goddamn trees have been around for a while haven’t they? But people? Naw, naw people pick up and move on as soon as life gets a little awkward. They just keep that train of thought movin’ from station to station to station until the fuel’s all used up. I suppose not all people are like that though. Well, take ole Maw and Paw Sanchez for example.
Now they’re not really as ole as their name implies, they’re just wise and steady in their ways. Made a fortune on the internet not too long ago, and bought a farm with their earnings, “royalties” they call ‘em. And now they just sit on their porch in the hot day’s dawn and noon and night, pondering on the ole pondering juice, occasionally heading in for a little hanky-panky, ‘cause that’s what married folks do, and supposedly they’re collaborating on some sort of joint venture together. Might account for that big ole crop o’ marijuana in their back yard.
Tell you the God’s honest truth, ya'll--I envy the motherfuckers.
B. McGILLICUDDY
Transient fucking thing, people are.
If you have any kind of understanding of how life came to be here, then you know that we only sit tight for sixty or so years because that’s the way it had to happen. Successful reproduction is the driving force behind our going and goings on. Successful re-pro-duction.
Now we go on and about moving from thing to thing like it’s our business to be this ADHD. But we're neglectin' to take a hint from the much calmer, steadier forces that keep on keeping on, without being busy or hard-pressed to get stuff done. Look at trees for instance.
A billion years ago, trees got it all figured out, just set themselves down, organism and environment working in harmony, without any need to fuck with all else, and goddamn trees have been around for a while haven’t they? But people? Naw, naw people pick up and move on as soon as life gets a little awkward. They just keep that train of thought movin’ from station to station to station until the fuel’s all used up. I suppose not all people are like that though. Well, take ole Maw and Paw Sanchez for example.
Now they’re not really as ole as their name implies, they’re just wise and steady in their ways. Made a fortune on the internet not too long ago, and bought a farm with their earnings, “royalties” they call ‘em. And now they just sit on their porch in the hot day’s dawn and noon and night, pondering on the ole pondering juice, occasionally heading in for a little hanky-panky, ‘cause that’s what married folks do, and supposedly they’re collaborating on some sort of joint venture together. Might account for that big ole crop o’ marijuana in their back yard.
Tell you the God’s honest truth, ya'll--I envy the motherfuckers.
B. McGILLICUDDY
1/30/2009
SOMEWHERE IN THE DISTANT FUTURE
B. McGILLICUDDY
Larry asks Sally if it was worth it, if it was worth the injustice and apathy and the constant risk of exclusion. She says yes, and even though she means it, she knows it’s not true. It's a hard-earned fact, but that doesn’t keep it from being contrary to reality. Larry balances a bowl on his head and his eyes dash between the object of his concentration and her stare, but of course he’s more concerned about the bowl at the moment. She asks him if he’s listening. He says he is, kind of. Then he lets the bowl slide into his palm, and that’s when she lunges at him, striking his lips ever so precisely with her own. It’s all over, the meaning is irrelevant, all that she knows in the back of her mind is that George will find out soon, and he’s not going to like it. But at the forefront of her mind is a beautiful boy with beautiful lips whose arms are tight around her. Music plays in the background, a piece neither of them have heard of, but one that will forever have its melodies ingrained in their minds. Larry isn’t the least bit concerned about these things. All that he has in his head is the rumination of the fact that he’s wanted to kiss this girl for as long as he can remember, and that hope is now fact. What will they do? How will it play out? Won’t they both die one day?
B. McGILLICUDDY
Larry asks Sally if it was worth it, if it was worth the injustice and apathy and the constant risk of exclusion. She says yes, and even though she means it, she knows it’s not true. It's a hard-earned fact, but that doesn’t keep it from being contrary to reality. Larry balances a bowl on his head and his eyes dash between the object of his concentration and her stare, but of course he’s more concerned about the bowl at the moment. She asks him if he’s listening. He says he is, kind of. Then he lets the bowl slide into his palm, and that’s when she lunges at him, striking his lips ever so precisely with her own. It’s all over, the meaning is irrelevant, all that she knows in the back of her mind is that George will find out soon, and he’s not going to like it. But at the forefront of her mind is a beautiful boy with beautiful lips whose arms are tight around her. Music plays in the background, a piece neither of them have heard of, but one that will forever have its melodies ingrained in their minds. Larry isn’t the least bit concerned about these things. All that he has in his head is the rumination of the fact that he’s wanted to kiss this girl for as long as he can remember, and that hope is now fact. What will they do? How will it play out? Won’t they both die one day?
B. McGILLICUDDY
1/29/2009
BUZZ!
FLOYD
Buzz!
"Hey I'm here"
"okay, I'll be right down! Yay!"
She sounded excited, but not too excited. It was as if she was trying to convince me that she was, when, infact, she was not. It was just a little bit of her character that always threw me off. I appreciated her humour and her hair, the way she played guitar and the voice she used to fake that excitement. It never bothered me, just threw me off.
I always had a predilection for her company. I am not much for words but I feel uncomfortable in silence, but never with her. We could just sit an stare and breathe aimlessly, it was fresh. Even after a while, I'd get the feeling that I loved her, I felt that among all my failed love affairs, she could be the one, for there was never an affair at all. I imagined us traversing the wonders of the world and the galleries of deceased empires.
She is beautiful, but I'm not all too attracted to her. It's fair to say I just want to hold on to her company forever, I don't know exactly how I love her yet, but I know it's pure.
The door opened and she had company with her, a lovely girl whom I had never seen before, "hello! My name is Floyd"
"oh hi! Are you Vanessa's boyfriend?"
My eyes went weak as they moved over to Vanessa, she replied, "Hah no way, this is the guy I was telling you about! I love him like a sibling!"
I don't know exactly how I love her yet, but I know it's not like that.
FLOYD
Buzz!
"Hey I'm here"
"okay, I'll be right down! Yay!"
She sounded excited, but not too excited. It was as if she was trying to convince me that she was, when, infact, she was not. It was just a little bit of her character that always threw me off. I appreciated her humour and her hair, the way she played guitar and the voice she used to fake that excitement. It never bothered me, just threw me off.
I always had a predilection for her company. I am not much for words but I feel uncomfortable in silence, but never with her. We could just sit an stare and breathe aimlessly, it was fresh. Even after a while, I'd get the feeling that I loved her, I felt that among all my failed love affairs, she could be the one, for there was never an affair at all. I imagined us traversing the wonders of the world and the galleries of deceased empires.
She is beautiful, but I'm not all too attracted to her. It's fair to say I just want to hold on to her company forever, I don't know exactly how I love her yet, but I know it's pure.
The door opened and she had company with her, a lovely girl whom I had never seen before, "hello! My name is Floyd"
"oh hi! Are you Vanessa's boyfriend?"
My eyes went weak as they moved over to Vanessa, she replied, "Hah no way, this is the guy I was telling you about! I love him like a sibling!"
I don't know exactly how I love her yet, but I know it's not like that.
FLOYD
THAT'S WHAT SHE SAID
B. McGILLICUDDY
She had contacted me.
It was a solid two months since we split. More than enough time to revert back to friend-status, especially since we'd only dated for 3/4 of that time anyway.
I called her cell from down the block, "I'm here."
"What?"
"I'm here."
"Oh, well come on up."
"NO!" I yelled, menacingly.
"Shut the fuck up," she chuckled, "you're ridiculous!"
We both laughed and I hung up.
The door was cracked, and as I entered I looked to my left and saw her sitting on her futon, typing away at her laptop. Her hair was up in that sideways '80s ponytail that nobody, ever, pulls off right. And yet...there she was...doing it...against all the laws of physics...she was a vision of the truth, an apparition of my past that was now solid and perfect and A FRIEND. A FRIEND GODDAMNIT. WE'RE JUST FUCKING FRIENDS.
"Yo. What you doing?" I asked.
"Editing my myspace. Can you help me?"
"Nobody uses that shit anymore," I sat down next to her.
"Well, my sister does. It's the only way she'll communicate with me besides phone. I tried messaging her on facebook, and that was an epic fail. It's been a month, no reply."
"So what are you trying to do?"
"Just jazz it up a bit. Oh! Lemme add you as a friend!"
She typed in my name, and my page came up in the search window. :CYNICAL ROMANTIC: was the title. She gingerly ignored the obvious signs there, and clicked on my profile pic.
"This is completely lame! You can't help me, you don't have anything on your page!"
"That's by choice though, I used to pimp it out all the time, but I just...don't care enough right now, I guess. But I do know how to do it."
"I knew you would. So you going to help me?"
She looked up at me with those eyes, those big, sexy eyes. No, those big, friendly eyes. Those big, sexy, sexy eyes...those big...
"Buttercup?"
"Huh? What?"
"You have a boner."
"Uh...wanna have sex?"
"I'm sorry but I've got nowhere for you to put that."
Her face was stone-cold. Brutal. Haggard almost, in my sudden, fear-induced delusion. Shit. There wasn't enough blood in my brain to say anything logical, so I stood up and took out the bouquet of roses I had tucked away in my jacket, set them on the coffee table and walked out of the apartment. Luckily a good case of blushing and rushing flushes out a stiff one pretty quickly.
I was dating another girl by Tuesday. She was alright, not really my type, but definitely worth the play, if nothing else but for experience, and fucking incredible in bed. It wasn't until after I got home from a date with her though, that I checked my myspace and found one friend request, accompanied by a message: "I really like the flowers".
Double-fuck my life.
B. McGILLICUDDY
She had contacted me.
It was a solid two months since we split. More than enough time to revert back to friend-status, especially since we'd only dated for 3/4 of that time anyway.
I called her cell from down the block, "I'm here."
"What?"
"I'm here."
"Oh, well come on up."
"NO!" I yelled, menacingly.
"Shut the fuck up," she chuckled, "you're ridiculous!"
We both laughed and I hung up.
The door was cracked, and as I entered I looked to my left and saw her sitting on her futon, typing away at her laptop. Her hair was up in that sideways '80s ponytail that nobody, ever, pulls off right. And yet...there she was...doing it...against all the laws of physics...she was a vision of the truth, an apparition of my past that was now solid and perfect and A FRIEND. A FRIEND GODDAMNIT. WE'RE JUST FUCKING FRIENDS.
"Yo. What you doing?" I asked.
"Editing my myspace. Can you help me?"
"Nobody uses that shit anymore," I sat down next to her.
"Well, my sister does. It's the only way she'll communicate with me besides phone. I tried messaging her on facebook, and that was an epic fail. It's been a month, no reply."
"So what are you trying to do?"
"Just jazz it up a bit. Oh! Lemme add you as a friend!"
She typed in my name, and my page came up in the search window. :CYNICAL ROMANTIC: was the title. She gingerly ignored the obvious signs there, and clicked on my profile pic.
"This is completely lame! You can't help me, you don't have anything on your page!"
"That's by choice though, I used to pimp it out all the time, but I just...don't care enough right now, I guess. But I do know how to do it."
"I knew you would. So you going to help me?"
She looked up at me with those eyes, those big, sexy eyes. No, those big, friendly eyes. Those big, sexy, sexy eyes...those big...
"Buttercup?"
"Huh? What?"
"You have a boner."
"Uh...wanna have sex?"
"I'm sorry but I've got nowhere for you to put that."
Her face was stone-cold. Brutal. Haggard almost, in my sudden, fear-induced delusion. Shit. There wasn't enough blood in my brain to say anything logical, so I stood up and took out the bouquet of roses I had tucked away in my jacket, set them on the coffee table and walked out of the apartment. Luckily a good case of blushing and rushing flushes out a stiff one pretty quickly.
I was dating another girl by Tuesday. She was alright, not really my type, but definitely worth the play, if nothing else but for experience, and fucking incredible in bed. It wasn't until after I got home from a date with her though, that I checked my myspace and found one friend request, accompanied by a message: "I really like the flowers".
Double-fuck my life.
B. McGILLICUDDY
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)