I think about girls. About wanting them to be perfect. Clean. Right. Smelling of baby powder, tasting like jellybeans. I don’t want them like me — picking their noses and streaking their underwear. Is that bad? I want them to know the importance of keeping me at bay.
stories for boys
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Monthly Archives February 2009
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Of keeping me at bay.
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Where did you go? When I needed you most you left me. I saw you. I saw you. You were there. Around me. Floating. Maybe like an angel out of the corner of my eye. Flirting, laughing, making a mockery of me. Of my emotions. And I’d turn to face you, you were gone. Disappeared. [...]
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I am walking down the sidewalk. Someone across the street sneezes. I say, “Bless you.”
It reminds me of you. You bless everyone when they sneeze. I do it now. Not consciously. But when I notice myself doing it, I think of you. Is there anything in my life now that doesn’t remind me of you?
The [...]
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The car ride is amazing. The sights. The billboards. The cars. The people in cars. The lights. Watching people, especially girls, race by as profiles. People speeding up, slowing down. Falling in love with the person in the car next to yours. I guess everyone does this; how could they not? To be able to [...]
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A girl almost dies because someone is mixing Everclear with tequila. A security guard comes in looking for the alcohol. We don’t have anything to do with it. But Jason is drunk, which makes the whole ordeal even more fucked up and stressful.
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“I’m a penis with arms.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yeah, I bet you think so.”
“I like penises with arms. Actually.”
“Why do you tease like that? No girl loves the penis. It’s ugly. They love the boy. The penis is residual.”
“Maybe. Maybe that means I love you.”
“Let’s be honest. Do you?”
“No.”
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The party is actually tolerable. This is because Amy makes me drink a bit of wine before we leave the room. This is a sad reality. I have let myself down. Finally.
But that’s okay.
Well, it isn’t, but it’s what I tell myself.
I am lonely. Depressed. And that brought out all the things I don’t [...]
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The muscles, the skin inside my mouth feels like someone’s genitals. Maybe my own after a dream of you. Wet, soft, but muscles tight under the skin. I’m drunk. I make a face at an Asian boy in a polo shirt across the room. I want to dance.
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I started the week wanting to be happy. Halfway through the week I thought I was falling in love too easily. Even though it was buying me nothing, getting me nowhere. Now? I’m giving up. I’m savoring the opportunity to find every girl I see to be beautiful in her way. Violins, Mr. Caulfield. Violins, [...]
