so i went on the scav hunt last night...there were many illegal things on the list, but we got them all legitimately...yay for little plastic shopping carts!
and then, driving to liza's, we pass guy going really slowly in a red pickup. in his defense, it was illegal...but we didn't cut him off, or flick him or anything. but he leaned on the horn, and started following us more closely.
we didn't think anything of it until we turned onto 7th to go to liza's, when he turned too. So, to see if we were being neurotic and he just happened to be going our way, megan went past liza's place and made a really tight turn, random as anything.
so now we're getting nervous, but it's still pretty fun; we hit a speed bump that we didn't see and get a little air and laugh like crazy, but the guy's still following us--bear in mind that we're three teenage girls in a small distinctive car, 10:20 at night, give or take, in a neighborhood with houses that are close together but where everyone's asleep by now, being followed by a man in an old red pickup truck, american flag decal on the back window, and, as far as our imaginations have gone, shotgun on the passenger seat.
we kill the lights, and megan keeps driving like crazy...she knows that neighborhood pretty well, so she was just driving like a fucking maniac...plus her distinctive little car has one hell of an acceleration.
but the guy's still following us, even in the dark.
by this point it has stopped beign funny, and so we get liza's cell phone and call 911. i wasn't on the phone, so i don't know what went on, but the time until megan got through to someone who could help was the longest three minutes of my life. i mean, megan was panicking so badly she couldn't remember what street we were on, shich is bad for megan.
when we got on to main, he stopped following us...we pulled into the all-night grocery and waited a while in the pull-through before we went on with the hunt...but it was the scariest thing ever, I think.
and then the police broke up the hunt, because people were stealing traffic cones and shit, so it was all for waste. although now i've heard a police officer say
"they've got crutches and a goldfish. can they go?"
which is funny as hell.
in other news...school is officially over for me, although i still need to get cap&gown tomorrow. can't befuckinglieve i'm graduating in a week.
and some weirdass poetry! as usual, please not to steal.
Today I opted not to go to class
I simply didn’t feel the need, you know?
I knew some other places I could go,
And other, better, ways my time could pass.
In justice, skipping class is not my style:
I actually like to think and write,
In deeply-thought discussion I delight,
And integrals can always make me smile.
But, walking past the Physics room today,
I saw that all was dark and drear inside,
And, having love for words and poesie,
Betook myself upon my merry way.
Now in the depths of Library I hide,
And bask in literate serenity.
…it’s not really skipping class if I get a sonnet out of it, is it? hope not.
[here follows the slam-style poem that I wrote immediately after the incident described above. Which do you prefer?]
i am floorwards outgestretched,
—avoiding the avoidance of an education—
in the library,
poetry in my heart and hands,
warm and drowsing (dowsing),
half-summer sun growing on my legs.
Shoes off, sidewards scattered
feet propped on unfathomed atlases of 70’s Europe.
glowing future melts me,
increasing the sun-dazed obtusity of the angle between my torso and legs.
dreaming beauty and words uncognized,
poets on my breast.
wake to blindness,
(hoo hoo hee hah)
arise and walk my poets home to their untenable tenements
eyes dark-blind, grit teeth and find sensation,
clean the cobwebs of perturbation.