the future dictionary
things there should be a word for:
the feeling for the morning after a slumber party, when youve been fed powdered sugar donuts and cheap, viscous orange juice by a mother other than your own, and you havent slept at all because youve been watching whos afraid of the dark on nickelodeon, pretending to like it because you dont have cable at home and thats assumed to be a disadvantage, and you're waiting for the sound of your mother's silver maxima to pull into the cul-de-sac. youre tired, you dont want to talk about it. you just want a too tight hug, a cold glass of milk, and a toothbrush.
not being able to express how you feel during a fight because you feel it too deeply, and too truly, and youre being bombarded with the other persons words and you wish you words could turn into fists and just hit them in the face.
not pity, not condenscention, but an authentic need and a hearfelt want to give a person something youve been able to have, something thats made all the difference.
crying so hard yourself gets lost in it.
the difference between driving somewhere in the murky grayness of the late afternoon and then driving back from that place, oh, lets say its bikram yoga on la cienga-- the difference between being dry and dreading it, being still and silent, and being drenched in sweat and glad its over, being un-stillable and dancy.
when a song crescendos and youre singing along and then they go and do exactly what you wanted them to do, which is get louder and hit it harder instead of tapering off and waiting for the next track to come on, and for a second youre so delighted that your feet leave the ground and the song is the exception to the rule of gravity-- its the loophole in the system, in the universe, and youre defying it all because this song has let you.
when a memory stabs you in the heart.
realizing that if there were words for all these things and all the other things that have no words, there would be no need for words. everything would be explained.
the feeling for the morning after a slumber party, when youve been fed powdered sugar donuts and cheap, viscous orange juice by a mother other than your own, and you havent slept at all because youve been watching whos afraid of the dark on nickelodeon, pretending to like it because you dont have cable at home and thats assumed to be a disadvantage, and you're waiting for the sound of your mother's silver maxima to pull into the cul-de-sac. youre tired, you dont want to talk about it. you just want a too tight hug, a cold glass of milk, and a toothbrush.
not being able to express how you feel during a fight because you feel it too deeply, and too truly, and youre being bombarded with the other persons words and you wish you words could turn into fists and just hit them in the face.
not pity, not condenscention, but an authentic need and a hearfelt want to give a person something youve been able to have, something thats made all the difference.
crying so hard yourself gets lost in it.
the difference between driving somewhere in the murky grayness of the late afternoon and then driving back from that place, oh, lets say its bikram yoga on la cienga-- the difference between being dry and dreading it, being still and silent, and being drenched in sweat and glad its over, being un-stillable and dancy.
when a song crescendos and youre singing along and then they go and do exactly what you wanted them to do, which is get louder and hit it harder instead of tapering off and waiting for the next track to come on, and for a second youre so delighted that your feet leave the ground and the song is the exception to the rule of gravity-- its the loophole in the system, in the universe, and youre defying it all because this song has let you.
when a memory stabs you in the heart.
realizing that if there were words for all these things and all the other things that have no words, there would be no need for words. everything would be explained.
posted by Jessica Baxter | 7:04 PM
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