I hold a force I can't contain
I have very conflicting thoughts on my high school years. Part of me likes to believe that I was a very moody and tortured soul who warded off his inner demons with the time-honored apotropes of sarcasm and passive aggression.
On the other hand, part of me knows that I was merely a skinny little drama queen in desperate need of big city culture and prescription-only antidepressants. Now that I have regular access to both, I'm in a much better place both physically and emotionally, but it still pains me to confront my past. After all, if I don't know who I was, how can I know who I'm going to become? Someone hot and wealthy, I hope.
(This philosophy conveniently ignores the possibly that I've been the same person all along, but I'd prefer to let go of my past and revisit it only on occasion, as one would a beloved but demented great-aunt who resides in a nursing home just one mile away too many for the drive down to really be all that convenient. See you at Christmas, though!)
I forget where I was going with this, but I need to wrap it up because the Lunesta is kicking in and the bottle of pinot grigio I consumed during "American Idol" isn't doing me any favors. Let me conclude by saying that you should expect to hear more about these tales of high school woe, as my well-documented body dysmorphic disorder stemmed largely from these developmental years.
I will also conclude by posting a shitty poem I wrote on October 22, 2000 (senior year), about whom or what I've no idea. I think it had something to do with wanting to hook up with the captain of the wrestling team.
SHOTlike vodka into a glass,
you enter the room
wet with charm and promise
do you see me through your ripples?
my head is pointing to the floor
i’m swallowing my secret in one bitter burning gulp
wincing
cringing
fighting back the tearsand as i smash my glass back onto the table,
i drunkenly say, “Hello.”
Gee, for a 17-year-old, I sure had a lot of secrets!
Comments
here is a "poem" i wrote in 12th grade about my calculus teacher and one about his wife--who taught my Functions and Analytic Geometry class junior year:
There once was a man named Mr. Kimp
Boy, he was certainly a wimp
he walks down the halls
and gets kicked in the balls
and now he walks with a limp.
There once was a woman named Pattie
Who certainly was no fattie
flat was her chest
for she had no breasts
so we all just call her Flattie.
...a couple years later their son murdered someone with a hammer.
Posted by: matt | February 14, 2007 02:59 AM
I cringe every time I read your 'secret' poetry becuase I wish I could go back in time and stop myself from writing something similar. Probably by murdering my younger self with a hammer.
Posted by: murraynz | February 14, 2007 06:25 AM
Careful, or you'll turn into a pillar of salt.
Posted by: anon | February 14, 2007 04:06 PM
>
Then why blog about it?
Posted by: Lord Cardigan | February 14, 2007 07:04 PM
Is it really advisable to mix sleeping tablets with wine on an almost nightly basis? This is all getting a tad too Valley of the Dolls for one's comfort. Take good care of yourself darling, you are too precious to turn ANS, yet.
Posted by: a concerned reader | February 15, 2007 09:34 AM
Ohhhhhh, Tohhhhhby!
You do it so right
With your ass so tight
Oh, what a sight!
As I pump and pump
With all my might
Don't put up no fight
As we get on our groove
With each, ev'ry move
I hope you approve
Cuz it feels so damn good
As you tingle my hood
I can't get enuff
Of your sweet tastin' stuff
It don't matter when
Let's just do it again!
Ohhhhhh, Tohhhhhby!
Posted by: a horny reader | February 15, 2007 11:20 AM
Ummm....dude....and people bitch about Toby's
posts about nonbenzodiazepine hypnotics mixed with alcohol.
Posted by: Lord Cardigan | February 15, 2007 07:54 PM
I have always found your writing impressive- now.
Posted by: Thomas | February 16, 2007 05:35 PM
I feel the same way now... I can never find a way to say hello.
Nice having you back around. You don't know this but you motivated me to start my blog and your comeback fueled me to start a new blog.
Keep it going.
Posted by: VJ | February 16, 2007 10:26 PM
The sucking drainpipe of adolescent poetry aside (I seem to remember writing some long-winded tirade in verse, ham fistedly alluding that Satan had co-opted the Catholic Church) some inspired soul wrote an intro to a zine I found at a second-hand record shop, and I thought that it summed it all up nicely, so I stopped trying to do it myself.
"It's like this. You are a poppyseed bagel. Full, well-rounded, but you have a hole in the middle."
Posted by: Note | February 17, 2007 08:39 AM
I wish we went to high school together. I lamented on my high school days in a similar post.....
"the cost of education" @ www.angelcitysdevil.com
love your writing!
-jonathan
Posted by: angel city's devil | February 18, 2007 06:27 PM
I wish you to talk more about Britney . I know she is not in a good position but i still love her and i always pray that she will be alright.
-Ben
Posted by: nemesis | February 21, 2007 10:31 PM