Archive for June 2009
closing time… aka mandy’s sanity unravels!
your attention please it is almost time to close, please pack the fuck up and get the fuck out!
i have been sitting here 8 hours (omg) can’t believe it… my seat has fallen asleep…
anyway, i just wanted to let you all know how boring it is working in a library… during the summer : /
maybe i can see the sun over the 4th of july–happy birthday AMERICA (not the band) about time you started acting a little more mature,
all these celebs are dropping like flies and mandy keeps writing silly-willy-itty-bitty-little-blogs (on the side) FOR SHAME.
you keep coming back for her charms (you’re so lucky) she will apologize now for stupid things she might type any second…
oh, and all the silly things she thought before 
i saw him… [revised]
i am envious of the lens that saw him moments before he died–
he smiled. kids rolled down hills, their screams were the things of dreams…
i tumble and feel wet grass, growing around his gravestone, a place that marks
the letter sealed inside. words eaten long ago by worms–scorched on a sidewalk,
split in half for the world to see what’s inside him and inside me.
nothing feels right
until i watch this tape.
i can’t be sure how many times i have been half expecting to see him
turn a corner.
instead he floats further down river…
i never saw him, i wasn’t there when they pulled him from underneath a bridge
after days of searching and seeing dated photographs
on the channel 7 news. i didn’t see his smile, we never kissed at all…
a picture someone gave me after your funeral makes my fiance jealous,
jealous of bones and a seven-year-old-conversation late in to the night
one summer i spent the night at home alone.
june 10 2009
feeling like a fish
with a skeleton grin
smelly and wise,
many rivers i’ve swam
hair tangles in wet knots
around my bony spine,
i hate dead socket eyes
staring at me-but
in the mirror
they’re mine…
a summer dream of the barn-house on the corner lot of kern st. and utica alley
trees bend and wave, flowers remind me of running
through bushes with purple bunches, floral and lush until
the snap–a swing-set unmovable-cemented haphazardly
in the backyard with all its knobby trees and rotten leaves.
apple-core eyes are smokey and coiling under an invisible
chain-link fence for dogs, cutting the bandit’s neck staining
bare feet like crab-apples–ghostly presence in the long
shady patches of lawn… a black cat crosses a toe-headed boy.
he stretches his stubby fat fingers and yawns as a woodpile
splinters, sparks, and burns to the ground.
charred bed-bugs
there were girls standing all around me in a clearing, there was a huge fire.
it felt like the ending of a film, just before the isle lights flicker on.
they sing a theme-song that haunts me in the moments between
lights-out and first light. a haze is cast over an emptying stadium.
fluttering patterns are really blackened-blue fireflies trampled by sneakers.
i keep on walking. howling at the moon, i feel close to my home tonight…
lying still in the morning before the other girls wake up,
i stair at a sleeping friend, admire her freckled nose.
she remains unaware that, while spending summers
sharing rooms with me most mornings were spent exactly like this…
locked in a fog of confusing boundaries between
your hairbrush
my comforter
your perfume
my shoes
your diary
my stuffed animals…
creep [original screenplay]
EXT. A SIDEWALK DAY
OLIVIA and CORDELIA walk home after school. Olivia is
somewhat top-heavy and wears several layers of clothing in
earthy tones. She walks slightly in front of Cordelia
avoiding cracks in an overgrown sidewalk. She ’pops the
head’ off a dandelion prompting Cordelia to pick one from an
uncut lawn.
CORDELIA
I used to do that when I was
little.
Cordelia places the flower between her thumb and index
finger.
CORDELIA
(singing)
Mama had a baby and the head...
(flicking the yellow flower
into the air)
Pop’d off.
It falls into Olivia’s long brown hair. She remains
oblivious as they cross the street. On the other side
Cordelia continues to drag her hand along sporadic lengths
of chain-link fence. She is wearing a black smiley face
t-shirt and has dyed black hair.
CORDELIA
God it’s so hot outside.
OLIVIA
You’re wearing all black.
INT. OLIVIA’S DINING ROOM TABLE DAY
Cordelia follows Olivia into the dining room and helps her
clear off a worn wooden table. They sit opposite each other.
Olivia’s army green satchel contains several spiral
notebooks each with papers sticking out. She opens a red
spiral and begins flipping through class notes. Cordelia
opens her overstuffed black backpack, on its front
"CORDELIA" is written in loopy letters in orange fabric
paint. She unzips a blue trapper-keeper as Olivia clears her
throat.
OLIVIA
I dedicated this to you in French.
Wanna hear it?
CORDELIA
Yeah.
OLIVIA
"A Little Flower," by OLIVE TALLEY.
CORDELIA
Ooo... Olive.
Olivia rolls her eyes and stands, forcing her chair to bump
into a crowded bookshelf behind her.
OLIVIA
The day is nice and sunny, I went
outside to see a small white bunny
in the mouth of a kitty. I held it,
but it was dead. Oops, off fell its
head. I buried it in your back-yard
where I also saw the buried bones
of three. Oops, here comes a chilly
April shower, making these bodies
into a tiny little flower.
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