what is the choice, what were the outcomes

2003-09-19, 1:35 a.m.

"do you want to go over to alicia's house with me? she has a brother"../ thump in heart, waiting to think of a reason not to go, a reason to stay home "he has a nintendo so im sure you wouldn't be bored"... i said yes. i say no this time... and the train of time is derailed, sent off course for the rest of my sentient existence.

one year later and i have a bruise on my forehead, the friends im playing with have a tenacity that makes me want to run and jump just as fast, they are my neighbors and they don't ever ask anything from me. the months and months turn over like a pebble at the bottom of a rushing river, end over end. i have to move.

the friends change slightly, i stay at school later into the day, my hands stay dirty from the constant rubbing of a basketball on my palms. night time but i watch the news for the final score in the Supersonics game; 115-98, a win. tommorow i will wake up and put on my warm-ups and my shawn kemp jersy- the skateboard has never foun its way into my garage-...

high school now, the first day to be sure. i am walking down the hall with two friends, both of whom i feel attachment, but they would not pick me up if i had fallen. the cynical discussions go on, a flirtatious talk about pot and the debauchery club fill the conversations at lunch time. in the hall i see someone i might have known, he carries a skateboard like a briefcase, glasses weakly framed on his face; what a funny friend he has, blond hair and lazy features suggest he is far beyond just DISCUSSING pot.

i wanted to join a band, it would feel right to fit in with Zane and Sam, and any other choice in the plethora of names present in our click. nothing comes easy, so i take on a more cynical edge than the rest. reading becomes a must for me because the questioning view is rewarded with strong labels to your character, i have been branded quite deeply with the eye of a poets bluejay, to nestle into the comfortable and make a god awful mess of it all.

seniors find solice in detatching from the 'norm'. i am outside of it all, i am trying to observe the microcasms of life with a telescope and a tape recorder. is it journalism that interests this cynic? i don't have any real interest other than to find some person to share a view with, instead i find the computer screen offers no counter argument, please my eye with soft thighs and velvet sheen.

on the steps of the school library, this school feels like wearing birkenstocks in siberia. how did an out of state college attract me so much? no neighbors to trade bruises, no courts for a 3 on 3 game of hoops, collequiems on grass roots democracy are the basketball court, the debate teams exchange their bruises with crafted witicisms. the idea occurs to me that i have never once accepted the way i look, the way i could feel with a girl who cared for me.

...the train could derail or continue on its set path with the simple choice between lethargy or cure for boredom. boredom seemed less attractive, so i went to her house and i met the boy who carried his skateboard like a briefcase.