Wednesday, March 21, 2012

Wednesday Morning

10:07 AM : English class, unfocused. The Professor just said "aesthetically gay" for the 73rd time this semester.

9:57 AM : Walking to class. Heart racing and not from my briskness. Call my sister Valerie, the Harry Potter freak, to tell her about my basilisk situation. Straight to voicemail.

9:55 AM : Park. Black 5. Decide to bring my book to class though unweildy and likely unnecessary. Disembark. Lock car.

Realize he is in the walls.

Picture my room. Picture the open cabinet. The one on the floor. The one that houses the water heater. The one that leads into the pipes.

9:39 AM : Leave for school. M&M's forbreakfast. Key got stuck so I didn't lock the door. That's not like me. My mind is elsewhere.

9:24 AM : Struggle to pull myself together. Emotionally, physically, and otherwise.

9:21 AM : Oh my god. He's not in his tank. Check the lid. It's loose. He's finally done it. Oh my god. He's loose in my room. Scan wildly. Many times.

9:11 AM : Decide to get up. Remember I have to leave at 9:30, not wake up at 9:30. Unset remaining alarms. Rise gracelessly.

9:10 AM : Reset alarm for 9:17

9:05 AM : Backup alarm sounds. Dismissed.

9:00 AM : Alarm #2 sounds. Dismissed.

8:55 AM : Alarm clock sounds. I tap to ignore.

1:52 AM : I cant' sleep. This is weird. This never happens. My Chopin playlist is on it's second run already.

12:41 AM : Something's wrong. I hear noises. Something sounds like movement and yet the room is still. The sound comes from above and behind me. In the walls. In the ceiling. I am at unease. Try to forget. Restart the playlist. I leave my light on. Turn over. Try not to think. Figure it's probably just the snake.


10:33 AM : Still in english class. For many more minutes. 42 of them, in fact. Kenne has her head down; she suffers from migraine headaches. Professor Mufasa is still talking, fervently, without interruption, "I was experimenting with my life you know my dad kicked me out said if I were to live with him I had to live by his rules I said GoodBYE. Who am I? I am nobody. Nobody and something...."
I've become strangely relaxed with my bedchamber of secrets, the only animal I've ever truly loved lost within the walls or plumbing...It is too poetic to not work out...dismally. Why, in Harry Potter, the basilisk hangs out in the walls and pipes for a tick and all that happens to him is he gets his eyes clawed out and stabbed in the throathead.

Monday, March 19, 2012

Thoughts at the Car Wash

I sit down with my Naked juice and my pen. An attendant offers me a Lexus. I accept. He retracts his offer upon discovery that the Lexus is indeed not mine.
The sun is hot but the air is cold. Cloud coverage causes a chill and forebodes rain. I've picked a good day to splurge on the triple foam and exterior shine.
There's a Starburst on this table. Unwrapped, alone, and yellow. If it were pink I'd probably eat it.

I sense the mexican towel twirlers and talking about me. They smile to each other and nod in my direction. I stare at them.
It's cold now. The storm above the mountains has traveled overhead. An old man converses with a guy wearing flip flops. His name is Jerry. I know this because his car is ready. It's a BMW. Maybe I should've worn flip flops.

I picked the green Naked juice today. It has broccoli in it. A woman vacates a yellow Xterra wearing a white tank top. I am cold. She will regret her choice of wardrobe.

The same attendant offers me a new car. I cannot understand him. Recalling my previous fruitless interchange, I decline his offer. The metro police department is across the street, anyway. I wouldn't make it far in a stolen conveyance. Not here.

The Starburst taunts me.

Tank top girl recovers a sweater from her car. I was correct. Flip flop guy has since vanished and I am left in solitude at my table, save for my unedible candy companion.
It is cold. And the clouds are now endless. My car has yet to emerge from the wash. Or maybe it's that one in front. I can't get a good look. The uncertainty leaves me at unease.

Adam's car is ready. Adam drives a Nissan. Adam looks confused. With Adam's departure I've located my car. It was the one in front. This is good news, because it's cold.

Something smells good. It is not the Starburst.

My car is done. They call my name. The many melodic syllables sound misplaced in their mouths. I juggle my notebook, and pen, and green juice. Goodbye, Starburst.

I get in my car and remember to take it out of gear before I let off the clutch. I forgot to last time, and I publicly stalled out. It was embarrassing. I celebrate my brilliance this time, silently. I tip the man, and drive away.

Directly into the rain.