mei

i got up early this morning to go see a friend's graduation, so i'm tired. the ceremony was really boring.. does anyone really like listening to long graduation speeches? i don't think so... they invited the governor to speak, which was a real stellar idea on their part.. it reminded me of my grandfather's funeral.. it happened in a church, and the main speaker was the minister. he said something to the effect of "this man was a good man, and now he's back in the arms of god. god who is great, god who is awesome, god who means everything. let's talk about god for awhile, forgetting completely that this is someone else's fucking funeral.." the governor made a nice little introduction about how proud he was of the students, and then he talked about his public school policies and what measures everyone should vote on.. because this really matters to all of these graduates on their special day.. because.. well, because they asked him to speak and he's just got to make it really political. bleh. i think that my graduation will be better.. i don't think we sing the national anthem at ours.. if we do, i'm going to sing a long. "oh say can you see.. etc.." until the middle high part.. then i'll say "and fish in the sky, and a baked monkey pie.." i'll confirm and deny a lot too. i think i might tie my copy of ulysses to my mortarboard.. only problem would be the traditional tossing the hat into the air. the other hats float around, and mine falls "kathunk" and knocks out some poor psych major. haha..

i'm going to go out and drop off resumes tomorrow.. there's an opening as a night person at a hotel, and another at the front desk of a salon - both of which i'm really qualified for. which, of course, means nothing, but oh well.

i need some water. i've been really thirsty lately - i think i'm dehydrated, though i'm not sure why that would be, exactly. maybe caffeine and alcohol, though i haven't had too much of either.

my backyard is like a jungle right now. i sat in it the other day, on a sleeping bag. the grass is thigh-high, and the ground is pockmarked with shallow holes. tossing the sleeping bag traps a bunch of grass and makes a big pillow.. and the grass walls me in, a safe circle that whispers like microfiber pantlegs as they brush against each other. when i was ten or so, my house backed up against a meadowy greenway. the grass was neck high there, or even taller. i was fond of picking an armful of grass at the edge of the path, and then wandering off into the middle of an especially thick, tall patch. i'd stomp down a little circle, lay down the grass i'd picked, and read for awhile. when i got bored, i'd lay on my back and watch. then the entire world was grass and sky, sky and grass. such an odd perspective, looking up from the bottom from the blades, instead of down on them like one usually does. and sometimes, i'd hear talking, and i'd be very still and quiet. people would walk by on the path, talking. they never spoke of anything of consequence; it was always small talk about the weather or school or friends. but they didn't know i was there. and i wasn't spying on them; they'd wandered into my territory but they didn't know it. and ultimately i'd go home with dry seeds in my hair, smelling green and gold. a few days later, there would be almost no signs of my occupation, but a few dead strands of grass that i'd picked. everything else would have straightened up, forgetting my presence in the joy of reaching towards the sun. there are houses there, now. they mowed the greenway, and built rows of identical suburban dwellings. maybe someday i should go sit down in one of their yards; bring a book and watch the sky, and pretend that people can't see me when they walk by on the sidewalk, not realizing that they're in my territory. or i could just sit in my own backyard, now, pretending and remembering.