truck

You know what Ive been thinking? Ive been thinking about weird things, childish, I suppose.

Yesterday, when I was tailing behind on the sideways leading to School, I saw it. It was a humongous truck and when it blew by me I thought there was nothing as impressive as that particular humongous truck. That second the world turned dull, it was just me and that truck. It is a miracle it even got away with its presence for the street is very tiny and not at all programmed to fit this size of a vehicle. The beautiful thing was that it was an M&M's truck. I focused my gaze on the back door and imagined it opening quietly, next thing I knew, I was swimming in an ocean full of M&Ms in this internal world of imagination, mind you.

 I pictured myself diving like I was in those kids play pools they have in McDonalds, only the balls were tiny M&Ms! Vividly enough, the world took over my breathing flesh! in that egg shell of a mind I pictured myself munching the M&Ms under "water". I knew that when  Im through and will be ready to hop on to boredom kingdom Id fill my school bag with some colorful chocolate round stars. I will be the proud owner of the biggest  M&M supply in the whole universe! I thought that the M&Ms would leave marks of colors on my skin from diving so deep in the truck but I was enchanted by their presence enough to understand it was somewhat impossible, it wasnt really happening, if it was, Id probably be the prettiest guy on earth. I got to Gym class so clean it was a shame to sweat the tidiness out!

And you know what else?  How,now, after I destroyed two tea cups of red jello , I think, I've never seen you eat. I've seen you drink, I've seen you smoke but I've never ever seen you eat. Maybe I shall buy you M&Ms and tuck them safely under your bag, anonymously, and then, I would watch you eat, like, really truly eat. Id probably feel good about it too so I don't mind sharing my lifetime supply of sassy M&Ms with someone who I've never seen eating, you know, eat will you? I'm curious to observe, I'm curious to know how the hell do you- eat. Its quite impossible that you dont.

Mat

orders up.

Its fall, again.
Its nostalgic and awakening at once.
I dont know what to say to you, I dont know how to make this fair.
Its not like I care.
Because I'd like to think that I don't. Ever.
And my hands are dripping oily dreams, splattering sickness all over the screen.
this is not a poem, just a short recap of the situation, you see.
I'll never write a poem about you.
 I lied before.
When you sit there and look at me and I cant really make out your eyes out of the whole picture Im scanning and searching for them but they perished out of my sight.
What do you look like?
What are they today?
Are you going to ask me again how wide your pupils are?
And Ill sink like little boats of butter down the filthy waters of your eyes.
If I knew any better Id get my presence straight, I'd stop thinking and my existence would get that much more bearable.
Its fall again, now I have expired.
I suppose that when you are you and your hands are not dripping oily regrets on the keys, you make reservations for the next life,
 tip the waiter this time, you might score a better table
a better seat
 the next time around.






Fall moments are so precious.

Asleep

Dear you,

I dont really know who you are but you probably exist and as soon as I manage to pull your name out of my hat I'll make sure to contact you and send you lots of real letters, because I think real letters are great. There is this thing I do, a lot, and its calld 'saving drafts'. yes, I'm writing you emails about me and I never send them out because I'm not sure who to address these crappy emails to. I hope you are not a ghost in my head because I have read a short story about an old lady blaming demons and ghosts for her severe Alzheimer . Im not nearly as old.

The school year has started 13 days ago and I see how the typical 'magic' and shine fade off and away like the memory of a late nights' dream. It has started very numb , I still walk the halls of my high school unconsciously, like the same ghosts Im afraid of finding in my closet. I saw many people I chose to forget over the summer not because they have done me any harm but because their presence reminded me of hypocritical sickening sweet candy corn apples which I always hated terribly (even though they were always very tempting). Im sure you would find it nice to hear that I haven't joined the Ambulance crew for my extracurricular activity (I couldnt bear the thought of making a decision quite yet), or a grade four counselor  boy at the 'Nests' political organization kids center. I need to find a place to have my community service hours done, though.

School? School. I almost freaked when I mowed and looked at the word 'school' the other day and started rephrasing it and making it into a 'shcool' , Im pretty sure this is not the correct way of seeing things especially when my scheduel is filled with 7 weekly hours of Math, 4 of Physics, 3 of Biology and 2 Chemistry. Science is not on my side, Houston? I dont know
. I'm yelling " WAKE UP, WAKE UP!" over and over to myself and Im still numb. I am watching my life from the outside and I cant manage to move a step forward. I postponed every single decision need to be made and never took that drums lessons I was yearning to take. Im munching over the same old thoughts and I cant seem to slap myself back into life. You see, Im too over whelmed by High School and all so I figured to give it some time and postpone the freaking out and do save it for later.

My new teacher told me Im not participating in life and she is so correct that it hurts, that Im not willing to step out of myself and take chances. I knew that without needing to hear it from her.


My pretty little blond sister just sat next to me 10 minutes ago, we've been head- to- head teasing eachother with her dancing to all the stupid music I let her listen to but somehow when she sank next to me on the couch she didnt seem like a foe. She held some litretaure paper I later discovered was a biography of this writer they have been talking about in class. First, I didnt pay attention to her vivid telling but when I caught the second rough sentence peeping out of her mouth, I asked her to start from the beginning, you know how those kids are when it comes to telling a story. She said this female writer they learned about lost her Father at the age of 5 and their assignment was to write a summary of her biography.  Then, suddenly,  a kid bursted out crying in the middle of  class complaining how he lost his Father at the age of four and nobody wrote a Biography about him. Her eyes got sadder by the minute. He said that it would be nice if people asked him how he were and how he felt about it every once in a while and the other kids said that they thougt it was a fragile topic and didnt want to hurt him or remind him of something that he has to carry with hime everyday already.

When she finished describing the torn kid and his breakdown in class I offered her to write him a note, like a secret santa note, anonymously, and ask him how he was and write him funny things. She agreed that she would make as many nice notes as his secret admirer as she could manage and we really had a moment of sympathy,there. Plus, I just think I found my community service oppurtonity, while writing this.

I already have another post in the making and I didnt even say too much about my day or yesterday or the charming books Im now reading.

Love always,

Mat