Posted by Rache on September 17, 2001 at 06:26:20:
I had a bad dream, you don't mind if I exorcise it, do you?
5:00mondaymorningprimalscream
Fiction by Rachael
When I am sad, especially so, I take solace in my youth. And in my music, art and books. So it is tonight, not having a memory of my own to draw upon, no emotions to remind me that all things must come and pass, that I search for answers lost. It is a curious world, tipsy-turvey, upside down, where up is not and neither bound, nor hampered by concern. Sounds like a poem.
When I am sad, especially so,
I take solace in my youth
And in my music, art, and books.
So it is tonight, without a memory of my own
To draw upon, no emotions to remind me
That all things must come and pass,
That I search for answers lost.
It is a curious world,
Tipsy-turvey, upside-down,
Where up is not and neither bound
Nor hampered by concern.
But not much of a poem. I have a song in my head, over and over it goes, over and over.
It's Patti Smith's "Rock 'n Roll Nigger". An oldie but a goodie, oh yes. I think I'm pregnant. I wonder what kind of music people listened to after Pearl Harbor. Or after Kennedy was assassinated. I have no idea, really. I'm like an archeologist, digging through the living ruins of my immediate past. I was born in 1982, Kennedy wasn't that far back was he? Less than 20 years. I remember when John, the President's son, died. That Kennedy curse, oh yeah.
Now I wonder what should I do. I gave blood, I lit a candle, I called in my dad's credit card number to the tune of 4 digits for Red Cross. What's left? Oh yeah, the baby. I don't think I should bring a life into this world. I should have thought of that, I did actually. Something somewhere went wrong. Nature overcomes, right professor? Nature will find a way? I'm still skinny. I press my palm to my belly but I can't feel anything. No life in there but me. Maybe I'm not pregnant.
I should get a home test thing, or go to the university clinic. They do it for free there. Is that my tuition at work? Or my tax dollar? I'm afraid of bad news, terrified by it's impending nature. Bad news usually isn't so bad once you get it, once you're used to it. Then it somehow just becomes news and you deal with it. You tell yourself, it's okay. It's just news. You tell your family, your friends, anyone who will listen how it really isn't that bad. Not really.
And people are afflicted with death. Diseases, dying from the inside. Like breast cancer or ovarian cancer. But me, I'm afflicted with life. Possessed by it. The thing inside me will grow, like a tumor. Eating my body, draining me, changing me. It will make me fat and ugly and I hate it. It will steal calcium from my teeth and sugar from my blood. It's a cannibal that will poison me. I'll become sick, unbalanced physically, emotionally, mentally. It affects every small part of me, it hastens to kill me. It longs to feel my blood surrounding it, bathing it. It will fight for freedom, for it's life. It will fight to stay inside, it will confuse me with it's ambiguous loyalty. Oh yes. I want it out of me.
At first I thought this was going to be about bringing another innocent child into a world like this. But now I see it isn't so. How perverse. My intentions I mean. I see where this is going, I'm stopping it. I hate myself. Honest to God, I do and I can't help it. It is a self-loathing which is terminal. I'm a dead girl, I just don't know it yet. If I could I would trade myself for one of those people who died on Tuesday. I would trade in a millisecond. It would be worth it.
But would it be redemption? Now, this is where I am, do you see? Do you see? Twisted. Seeking redemption in someone else's tragedy. Where's my gun? I have a gun here someplace. I bought it from a friend of a friend. An anarchist in Oregon. Oh yes. One of the children who started a riot against the World Trade Organization. They're just misguided, thinking that life would be so good without a government. Without a social pecking order. Mostly without money cause they have none. Angry young men with spray paint, harmless. Everytime I ran away, that was where I went. I felt safe in their confusion. All of us runaways.
"Outside of society...Jesus Christ, was a nigger...Nigger nigger nigger...." It's live, but God! What a great song! Maybe because it's live.
But I'm not.
rache18us@yahoo.com