This Is From Writing That Gabi Started....to be continued.
gabi:
Somethingfunny.
Everyone always said that there was somethingfunny about her. Even as
a child, she had been the scrappiest of all her schoolmates with
uneven little haircuts and mismatched shoes and socks. Now, at 17, she
sat naked in the back of her long rectangular yellow room with a
cigarette in one hand and her miniature turtle in the other, and she
thought,
'god damn it. the fucking matches.'
Eventually, she got up from her chair and put the turtle back in the
kiddie pool. She picked up something from a pile of clothes, a pair of
jeans or, something, and she put them on. Then she picked up the
turtle and made her way to the kitchen, where she started to pull
things out of drawers.
her mother came in.
"for heaven's sake, put on some clothes."
"uhhhh…yeah, mom, sure…except for, im wearing clothes."
"yeah, I guess I meant more than one garment…elise, your turtle. Your
turtle, honey, it's about to fall off the counter."
"fuck."
She picked up the turtle, and having found no matches, walked over to
the stove. She turned on one of the burners and she lit her cigarette.
Then she walked back up to her room.
Her mom stayed behind and thought,
'there is definitely somethingfunny about that girl,' thought it
with a strange and secret type of pride. She went up to the stove to
light her own cigarette, was un-careful, and burnt off a piece of her
hair. The smell was not agreeable, so she went outside. The sprinklers
were on and haphazardly spraying without direction, wetting the
concrete walls and the already-wet-pool.
'there's somethingfunny in the air'
Her cigarette expired so she went back inside and looked at the clock.
She was late. She walked over to the mirror and put on some lipstick
while she tried to remember where her keys were. She looked around a
little bit and found them marking the page of the book that she was
reading. She took them out and made a mental note: page 135.
"Im leaving, Elise. Go to school, ok?"
"bye mother. Sure thing."
She got in her car and left. Her mouth tasted of unwanted morning
cigarette and her hair smelled like a catastrophe, but she was in a
good mood and she hoped that it would last her, at the very least,
until the end of the work day.
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Monday, June 23, 2008
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