Pop Princesses

October 21 2008.

I think a girl in my writing class has the cutest shy smile. And I’m still wishing I could find and talk to that wonderfully tall girl, glasses, dresses only in black, so skinny in jeans. We were in Kline together last week. She smiled at me from across the salad bar, and I swooned. But I am tired of the gay politics here, so that’s as far as it goes, I think.

Spent the last several days pseudo-flirting with girlcuties who don’t live near here. That crimson-haired cutie from a year ago reappears, says she wants to be my bird, asks me if I’m flutter-free. One miss kitten tells me she likes bruises and bubblegum, she quotes a poem that I wrote in highschool and says she wants to feel my lips with her fingers. That skirt who used to send me unsigned letters emails me, saying, let’s kiss and tell. I’ll make you cheesecake. She still knows all my old softspots, how to make me cringe, how to warm me up- how funny. Some others, scattered around, plaid shirts and pigtails, dyed hair, pixies that run the rail from nailbiters to bioqueens, who urge me to come home, they’ll buy me coffee and cigarettes (neither of which I desire, but it's a nice thought) anyway, she says she'll make me scarves to keep me warm in winter.
You are all too young, or too sweet, (or too unavailable, anyway)- all cupcake hands and dimples, emo-adorable, making eyes and hiding smiles. All of you wear too much eye-shadow, (but who am I to talk?) and you all tell me too much- I remember some of you from way back when, when did you get so forward? you all want the world, while I’d just like someone to make squash soup with me, to hold hands with once the weather turns cold.

Fall break was all full of wonderful. Button brought me to a party at a house far from home, in the middle of fields and horses, with a big firepit out back and lots of beautiful Qs sitting on logs and trying to sing kumbayah without knowing the words or the chords. Dogs that were tall until my shoulders, all lean muscle and stretching necks. Something about a pimp and too much peach schnapps, jokers and fools, and I was sitting on a couch between a grrl and a boi. The next day we climbed into a car: the two hippiegirls curled into each other with their tins of tobacco, the two in the front holding hands, and me on her lap, squeezed in, and Douce in front laughing, saying, “This car is obviously going to Outfest!” Hannah was somewhere there earlier, snapping subversive pictures, but we missed her because we couldn’t find shoes for the train. The gayborhood was full of confetti and smiling girls and boys shyly holding hands and swapping kisses for pictures. We looked at rainbows, were plastered with stickers and signs, buttons and swatches; a tall boy in a bowtie gave me a global cooling flashlight, and the Britney dragshow was entertaining, but the Rent performers stole the show. I bought a four dollar lemonade that was really just water, and couple kissed for cameras in front of the protestors.

On the way back, I met a boy on the train platform with a tall rainbow hat- a longlost friend- he hugged me before he recognized me. I met another lovely girl, with dark hair and dark eyes, and she came to dinner with us and ordered lots of drinks, gushed about her girlfriend, hugged us goodbye. We told jokes in the car on the way home. When I got in, everyone was asleep except for Owen, who had waited up for me, he wanted to trade stories, and he wanted me to play him music for sleeping.

And Morgan came to stay this past weekend, and it was lovely. We went to the Coming Out party Saturday night. Liza and I wore glitter, something I haven’t done in ages, which is strange maybe, but makes sense for me this year. Adriel was crazy, scaring freshmen girls and being generally a mess to music. Fun, all the same. A girl smiled at me across a room, and came to put a glowing bangle on my wrist for the dark dance floor. M and I met Kevin in his long fur coat, and were upstairs a little before going home. The next day, we ate bagels and juicy red apples and chai lattes with Liza, and then it was warm enough to sit in the sun outside Bluecher. We went with Hannah and Rachel to Moo Cow, got us some dairy, and laughed on the picnic benches about poppets and projects. Danny brought us into Leonard later on; his room is full of cute, and the basement has the Blushing Player’s cardboard fort. A good reunion, I think. This morning, I sent her off real early with a tall bottle of chai, mixed dried berries, and some baklava, wishing, perhaps under my mother’s influence, that I had more little snacks in my possession.

Because this little page has proven not to be as anonymous as I thought, I have installed a sitemeter, and am almost appalled at the number and variety of people who read this. Who are you all? Who do I know in the city? North Dakota? Tennessee? I can make some educated guesses, but not many. Don’t take me seriously, regardless.