just
wow.
damn girl
i love the way you wear those jeans –
you’re one thick-bootied jean-wearing machine!
didn’t someone stop you when you left the house this morning
to tell you that what you got going on ain’t boring?
the way you’re walking down the street
got my ice cold heart beating mean.
wow.
just
wow.
I’ve got a junkie heart in a cage of bone
– “Will You Remember Me” by Jann Arden
I’m a scientific wonder, a sober son
I was born blue-blooded
So I’ve never made a cent on my own
…Will you remember me, after I’m gone?
*
Once upon a time, in a place not unlike that of your own adolescence, there lived a girl. There was nothing particular about this girl that stood out on first glance: just a plain high school Senior. Nothing special, nothing significant. She would blend in to a class of her peers like a chameleon, sharing the faces and features of those in her own circumstance. Her grades were impeccable. She came from a middle-income upbringing, and fate had chosen her to live the quaint, “normal” life of a juvenile from the suburbs.
Having said that, we open the curtain to our story in a frank moment of passion between our heroine and a boy, in his bedroom. She did it because she wanted to. She did it, because no one was watching her. Only him. And there was no judgment in his eyes: only pleasure. Pleasure that she was giving him. For underneath her perennial exterior beat a fiery heart, felicitous for stoking. It made her feel confident & powerful. Older. And as she carried on and his undulations became vulgarer & his complexion reddened, she managed to tune him out – in the same way an extra’s face in one’s dream is distorted – and became solely & absolutely concentrated on the task at hand, no pun intended. Because this was what this was all for, wasn’t it? At the end of it all, wasn’t this really just for him? And plus, she couldn’t stand this old music he had playing in the background, and the sooner she was finished the better. So depressing! What did he say it was? The Smiths? Who they Hell were THEY?
“Oh fuck that’s so good baby, give me more of it like that, yeah… shit…
She had no desire to become pregnant. There was a girl in her grade who everyone watched like a celebrity trial: from those first public cries of fear in the cafeteria, to when her baby bump began to show, to when she returned after a month’s absence only to push her pram around the school’s half-empty corridors to special classes. Our heroine didn’t want to be like that, with strangers scrutinizing her and making assumptions. But that girl was so plain about all of it, like there wasn’t anything else to talk about. No one knew who her baby’s daddy was: that was the only real secret she kept. No, our heroine attracted attention in a different, more obvious way. Because despite being ordinary in an unfussy, homespun way, she was still a girl in the inescapable midst of becoming a woman. In that way, she felt like a part of something: like she always had a community behind her, of girls all going through the same thing. That empathy. She knew she was privileged to be White & attractive so she never felt a need to be more overt than that to anyone.
The boy was close now. His face contorted in that way she saw the boys in the movies do, as he whipped his hands around the back of her head & held it down.
When he was done, she stood up, spat the cum out of her mouth and on to his face, and left. Pig! She was already dressed, and by the time he composed himself she was gone & he was too blind to chase after her. He just rolled around in pain & the fast-crystallizing ooze. The boy’s name, haplessly, was Chance.
i’m on the look-out for my very own mistress –
one to call my own
who i can love and adore
and use and abuse
and leave packing at the front door when i’m through.
anyone at all,
preferably female
although i’ve never had a man before.
she doesn’t have to be pretty
or kind
or young in body & mind –
or not care that i don’t work or have money all the time
but i’ll take them all if she’s willing to share –
There she was, clad in all-glory, walking directly towards him. OK Reggie, he would say to himself, today’s the day. Today, you’re going to talk to that girl. And then she would walk passed, and he would say nothing.
Couldn’t say it wasn’t on-par. Reg thought he would see her working more during the Pandemic: sadly, the opportunities were less, walking out of the building as he did at opening when she started, from the graveyard shift he was just promoted to. Some promotion. Three AM start. At least it was only part-time hours, what with his wife just giving birth and all… what am I even doing thinking about going with her? She would part the Red Seas wherever she walked, like that song by Ben Folds Five. She never gets wet, she smiles and it’s a rainbow… This was true of Megan.
She was tiny: so tiny you could mistake her for someone half her age. And to Reg, that was her appeal: her youthfulness; her natural blond hair; her curves. And make no mistake, Megan was a curvy girl, with her own Ben Folds & hairpin spirals to make Reg’s eyes water every time she strolled by. He thought this would have made it easier for him to go introduce himself: his own affinity for larger women. But Megan had a vivaciousness. Every guy was talking about her and every woman was jealous of the attention she got. Reg was never the man he wanted to be & always the man others envisioned him to be, and he was miserable for it.
it all would come down to what jon decided to do. it was his choice. becoming lord commander was not something he asked for, neither was defacto leader of the wildlings. now, on top of everything, the last male targaryen heir to the iron throne? he didnt ask for any of it. fate was thrust upon him at every turn and when finally faced with a choice that only he could make, he decided to take tyrions advice and act quickly and swiftly, just like when he hung his predecessor to lord commander and his conspirators. jon had never been afraid or reluctant to duel out justice when it was called for, but he has been a reluctant leader. a brave fighter but a humble diplomat. he allowed himself to love again after ygritte and not only did the woman turn out to be his sister but another tyrant leader and threat to his family. a threat to his crown! he was the only one who could kill daenerys but did he ever imagine in a million years that he would end up where he began? being sent back to the nights watch, exiled from westeros with his secrets intact. maybe he thought that it would turn out differently, just a little glimmer in the back of his mind that lured him with the thought of being king, all he had to do was do what he had always done, which were the needs of the many over the needs of the one.
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