If I were french

I would take long pauses in the middle of the conversation and just seem mysterious.
I would smoke cigarettes in long black jackets. I would eat cheese, pronounce wine correctly. I would wear little short skirts with black stockings and cut my hair short as I grow old. Wear a bizarre brooch or pair of earrings. 'She's so European.Oh no she's not zoning put she's just introspective'. I would talk loudly to my other french friends laugh boisterously and somehow this would be thought of as adorable. Thirty seconds later becoming stoic.
I would travel and be exotic yet above. I would be a cat person. I would have a melodic sing song name that would go up on the end. And inject melody in boring names like Tom or Stephen.
I am utterly american, I am not Bardot, I'm not Jean Seberg. I look like I was carved from white bread. My loud laugh is annoying and instead of searching uhms I slipin a yeah or like. I don't tan I pink. My legs short.I am exotic to Jewish boys who want to scare their mother. I am not mysterious nor was meant to be but sometimes I bum a cigarette in a long black coat and pretend.

I want for her

I want for her to take things for granted. To wake to her alarm, sleep in on Sundays. Delight in burnt pancakes. Do laundry promptly. I want for her to have boyfriends grilled by my father on the front porch. I want for her to be annoyed yet love this grilling. I want for her to not need these boyfriends. To count her freckles, wear sunscreen, to laugh loudly in libraries, to believe she deserves to be in every room. She does. I want for her not to know hungry, or scared, or that shakey feeling of walking alone at night watching onesself. I want for her to love her forehead, hell love her fivehead, and hips, and go to the cobbler when her shoes wear. I want for her to meet Jong, Shakespeare, Jagger, Richards,McCartney, Lennon, Lady Day, Jim Henson, Redding,Hepburn, Stewart,Cukor, Mitchell, Taylor, and anyone else who makes her smile/think/laugh/sing/dance/challenge/excavate. I want for her to travel. To have no debt. Be good at something, know it. I want for her never to sit accross from someone, a candle in between and wish she were anywhere else. I want for her to eat cheese, wear jeans, floss, learn a foreign language, moisterize. Be an adequate speller. Wear ridiculous heels and sneakers in inappropriate places. I want for her to have a car, a house, a job, a plant, a dog that she does not force to wear clothing,health insurance. I want for her not to care about things. But still appreciate the artistry of a tailored coat or cupcake. I want for her never to feel dependent, never feel a disappointment to anyone, insufficient of funds, insufficient of anything. I want for her to trust, trust feelings, trust safety. trust that there's a reason, maybe not even get lost in the reason. Forget that, I want for her to trust her. I want for her not to write the same tapes over and over, play them back. I want for her to avoid men with accents. and perhaps those with tattoos, perhaps not those with tattoos. (Dependent on tattoo).And everyone has an accent, even she'll have an accent. I want her to not be ashamed of her accent One that will come out when she's drunk or exhausted...that strange 'a' sound. I want for her to buy a dress just because, buy flowers just because, buy a bottle of vodka just because. Wear her hair short, long, dark, light. Wear white. Go to Concerts, go to Italy,go on road trips without getting nauseous. To not be ridiculously corny, (say what she would write) more graceful,more here. I want for her to sing loudly at karaoke. To run. To not regret. To do do do. To do be do be do. To be. I want for her to partner if she sees fit, perhaps try a few fits on for size. I want her to give without being taken. I want for her to never want.

apathy and rain

JEAN

I think the worst thing is not to feel. I wish I had a stronger feeling about this, but I don’t. I’m saying it apathetically, whatever. Which in itself is ironic or something. I drink 4 coffees a days so I wake, ambien to sleep. And despite the food I eat, pills I take, drinks drank, people I fuck, traffic I play in, I’m waiting to feel. I’m too tired to run, hand and feet numb Hands, two. I have two, thank you. Yeah I’m rhyming, so what? Even this this speaking there’s like a space, a space between my thoughts and words, not that I’m editing them, I’m not aware enough to edit I guess, not smart enough., no not smart enough I..whatever=There’s just space, like a delay. And maybe it’s the rain. And my lack of good wellies, or a ‘brolly’. English people say that’brolly’, brolly-englishpeople...english persons-and what do they call a phone a, a blower? Something. Anyway I’d like one. But I wouldn’t call it that because I’d sounds stupid, or screw ot, maybe I would. A fashionable umbrella. With clouds or the subway system, or wheat field by van gogh? If I had one I’d lose it. I used to buy a new one every time it rained, a ‘five dollar’ ‘five dollar’ umbrella on the street. But now, now I just get wet. And I don’t mind it really, have no feelings either way. The thing with getting wet, is you dry. It let’s up eventually.

Things that are not socially acceptable

-poking babies in the eye.

-dancing to other people’s cell phone rings

-answering honestly when someone asks you how you are

-putting vodka in juice boxes

-having ex’s meet current girlfriends to discuss how needs were and were not being met.

-discussing hair removal

-telling people that you don’t like their dog.

-lying down on a subway bench

-sleeping in your car

-saying ‘no we shouldn’t’ when people you haven’t seen in a while say ‘we should hang out soon’.

-admit that you actually like being single.

yelling 'walk!!' at dogs in handbags.

-saying congratulations when someone gets engaged, or good luck!

-laughing at a stupid name, ie. Kimee, and anything ending in an ‘I’

-saying 'i'm sorry' or 'oh god' to a pregnant woman.

-admit that you clean for the cleaning lady

-tell people that you liked them better when you first met.

-asking someone on the train if you can use their ipod

-public urination

-discussing public urination or any bathroom habits.

-asking to borrow beer from a neighbor, or anything other than sugar or a shovel

-sampling produce,

-punching professional sport or themepark mascots in the face.

-licking the bowl.

using children's playground equipment

-talking about sex, politics, or God at the top of your lungs.

reception

KIMMY,35
Okay okay okay okay, whatever okay okay okay yes okay. I got it, yup got it, got it got it. Okay okay okay, love you, okay….okay…okay.. bye. What? No. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you, it’s just I’m not in a place that’s conducive to talking to you. Conducive mom, conducive. A good place. For talking. No I’m fine. No no that’s not what I meant mentally I am in a good place. I mean physically. No I feel okay. No I’m not sick. I mean for talking.. on the phone. Its loud. I said it’s loud. It’s loud. You can’t hear me because it’s loud. Yes I can hear you. Yes I can hear you. Hello, hello, hello. Mom stop saying hello, I can hear you. I’m sorry, it’s not my fault you can’t hear me. No I’m not blaming you I’m just saying it’s not my fault. Mom can I call you back, can I call you back? Can I call you back? When? later. I don’t know. You need an exact time? Uhm like 2. Okay 2. Okay okay okay bye, okay. I love you.

GABRIEL, 22

for my bro.
I am trying to listen. Past the noise to your music. Listen harder listen harder listen harder hear less try less.past my heart beat , past my pulse, past my ideas of shoulds or coulds that I was convinced were a baseline. And sometimes I hear nothing, but the pendulum of my thoughts, the tick tick tick. And what do you sound like? cause I thought you'd be a trumpet thought you'd be a symphony thought you be an undeniable solo. But maybe you sing like the voice of a child. An angel bell, a bright ring hovering above the sound almost part but above and maybe I just got to listen harder.not to hear but to listen and forget the songs I know.‏ But I don't know what you sound like, and i'm afraid that I'll hear you, and afraid that I won't.

Weight

I'm not going to tell people not to be sad. Because there's a lot to be sad about in this world. But I guess the trick, is how long we sit in it, and if we have a choice in that matter after all? Haven't figured that one out yet.

MICHEAL,32
They say a dead body weighs the same as a living body. Takes up the same mass as a living body. Not to be morose, but scientifically, same matter. Fine I am morose. But these two things physically tangibly are the same. So what’s the difference? The soul, the want to live, faith, the what? Cause whatever it is it doesn’t weigh anything, yet it matters. Separates us from them. Cause there are days that I wish that I was dead. Not dead really, but just asleep, on a time out. Vacation from my body, from this. And I don’t think that makes me instable or unstable or anything, I don’t think there’s a single person in the world who hasn’t thought about that, for a moment at least. Even a second. You’re lying to yourself if you say you haven’t. And I’m fine with those thoughts, because they’re natural. They’re human. Doubt is human. But what I’m not fine with is feeling so weighed down. So weighed down in this mass that’s supposed to be the same. And I recognize that within me is infinite possibility and blah blah blah the potential that is within everyone and the universe and God whatever. I’m infinite I get it, but right now, I’m infinitely in a hole. And every day I have to tell myself to stay awake. To keep my eyes open. To listen. To not go to sleep. Cause how else am I going to feel that thing.