email me at melisasmithus@yahoo.com This weird old lady, who is actually a pretty good friend to me sometimes, gave me this journal as a present this afternoon, and so this is what I am writing in it. Pretty self-conscious so far. Like I have to say that. What I'm thinking, I mean, like I don't already know that. Anyway. She also gave me the journals of Anais Nin, which are supposed to be pretty hot, I think. I haven't read them. I guess I will. I have to give them back.. I can't let Mom or Dad see them or I'll get in super bad trouble. Like life in the electric chair with no popcorn or whatever. This journal either. Maybe I can hide them in the same place, like maybe at Amy's. Her parents don't care, we could hide elephants in her closet and they wouldn't know. They're so stoned all the time or on acid they probably think elephants live in closets normally, like in the closets of the Serengeti. I'm probably self-centered enough without talking to myself like this all the time, but whatever, like I've got hardly anything else to do. September 29 I almost forgot about this stupid journal. I went to get Anais Nin, because I decided to read it this weekend since I don't have cross country for a change and then I remembered that I am supposed to be writing, too. At least I'm not mushy. I mean saying dear diary and all that. Stupid journal. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Yada yada yada. Creeper (my stripey cat) is smelling the edge of the journal, now she is chewing on it. Rouf! She says purr even though I am a scary dog. Amy says I cause my own bad luck. If I say stupid journal like it will be a stupid journal. I don't know. Maybe. I doubt it. I don't control everything. Except Creeper, I can make her kiss me. October 3 Anais Nin really bites. I read about half that stuff and couldn't read anymore. I guess some of it was kind of hot. But mostly it was just boring. She didn't seem like a very nice person. And she doesn't look so hot either. She looks like that actress who always plays a bitch, the short lady on that show, oh whatever. Creeper hates her, right Creeper? Of course you do. I don't think I would have sex with her. I mean if I was a guy!? Or Creeper. And I would never have sex with those men in there. Gross! What losers. It did give me one idea. I think I will make this journal only about sex. I know that is ridiculous (who am I talking to?) but anyway. It can't be about sex exactly OK. But about that kind of stuff. Romantic stuff, I guess although that word is pukey. Things that I think about sex. And then when I do have sex it will be like this story with an ending where you see it all leading up to some great.... thing. Well, you won't, but I will. If anybody read this thing I would kill him. If you are someone besides me reading this kill yourself now and save yourself from the torture I will inflict upon your pathetic carcass with my superhuman girlpowers and kickass kneehigh spaceboots! I was just thinking how you and me are really the same thing in a diary. Since I am talking to myself like some kind of freak. Anyway that's not so deep. I think besides this being about sex I should have one other rule and that is to avoid stupid words. I read the last few pages and I sound so stupid. There, I think I will avoid stupid first of all. It's a dumb word. And dumb. If I can't say anything smart at least I can learn some good words. You know open a dictionary and a thesaurus. If I'm going to be a writer I might want to learn to write someday. October 4 These are the words I will avoid in this journal. like you know freak out make love (ooh!) totally man stupid dumb sucks whatever wicked groovy honkin anything-daddy October 5 I decided that if I don't say something intelligent by October 17, you know one month, I am going to quit. October 6 I went back and wrote at the top of the first page Diary of George. Like George Eliot, right? Or maybe George Sand I guess. So if anybody steals it or I die in a fiery planecrash (had crosses) they will think some stupid guy named George wrote it. They'll thinks he's got major problems. I think that that is what George Eliot did too. You know put George's name on it in case everybody thought Adam Bede (or whatever the first one was) sucked. Then when people liked it she could go "oh, yah, that was me, just kidding." Besides she was really Mary like me. Or Mary Ann, whatever. I saw Adam Bede on PBS but it was lame-o. They always pick the wrong people to be the characters. Like they don't look anything like in the book. Ethan Frome was much better. That is by Edith Wharton who wrote Age of Innocence. I used to get them mixed up, I mean Ethan Frome and Adam Bede, I guess because they are both just guys names. But Liam Neeson was Ethan Frome and you don't forget that, like when he comes walking up in the beginning with his leg totally wacked. I don't see how he did that. October 7 I haven't thought of anything smart to say so I thought I would just babble. Maybe something will happen by accident. In English class, I always think that is what good writers do really. I don't believe famous people when they learn to write think about all that stuff about character development and cliff hangers and and all that shit. They just write down a story and then the teacher discovers all kinds of crap in it later. Like intentional stuff right, whatever. God my vocabulary is bad (I was going to say sucks.) I need to live in a dictionary for about a hundred years. I think writers just write a bunch of stories and some of them turn out to be good and some are awful. Some are just OK. The writers who write more good stories are more famous that's all. Brilliant shit Mary. Creeper is doubtful. Mrs. Doubtful. She is so doubtful she had to pounce on Mister (my black kitty, short for Mr. Man). Mrs. Lattimer says if you want to be a writer you have to write everyday. I doubt it. Whenever anybody says "You have to do this or that" I just kind of look the other way very much like Creeper. You can't argue with those people can you. But in History you're always reading about one guy who worked all the time and another guy who maybe was lazy and chased pretty women all the time, but he was brilliant. Or you read in the paper about a girl who sings good because she sings all the time and another girl who sings good because she was born with a great voice. If you can't write too good you probably have to write more, to practice. I probably need to write a lot. But when I get good, I won't have to write except when I want to. Mister knows exactly how logical I am. October 8 I haven't written anything about sex yet. It's been kind of a slow month I guess. I've only been in about two or three pornos lately. Just kidding. The reason I was talking to that old lady who gave me this journal and that Anais Nin is that she knows my grandmother. But my grandmother doesn't really like her because she got divorced when she was about forty or fifty or something and then she had a lot of gentleman friends (that's how Grandmother puts it). So I thought she might know something. I dropped by her house on the way home from school. She's not like some nympho or anything. I mean she's just normal. She doesn't have a husband or anything, but neither does Grandmother anymore or a lot of old ladies, since all their husbands are dead. The only thing about her is she has long hair. You don't see old ladies with long hair much. It all gray, but I kind of like it. Its not exactly beautiful, but it's different. And she doesn't look like a witch. She looks more like an old fairy princess or one of those ladies in the books. I think I am too sleepy to write anymore. October 10 What I was saying on Friday is that Mrs. (Ms.?) Jones, the old lady, doesn't like to talk to me about sex too much. I think she is afraid the police will come busting in and get her or something. I don't know what. They can get you for anything, even if you're an old lady. Cops are like space aliens from the planet Dunkin' Fuckin D. My parents don't understand how I can think that, about the wonderful police, because I am a rich white girl being protected from everybody else. I just wish they would let me alone and go cut their hair or something. Things might be more interesting if something occasionally happened, you know. I don't mean bad things. Just things. Mrs. Jones told me about the 60's, which sound pretty good I guess. It always sounds better the way things used to be. Maybe they just forget how bored they were. Or maybe, compared to how bored they are now, things really were a rave. At least they had more sex then. According to Mrs. Jones, people got naked a lot. People don't hardly ever get naked here. Not even at home. When I look in people's windows, they are never naked. Everybody leaves their blinds open at night and the lights on, but there's never anything to see. If I had my own house, I'd be naked all the time. The peepers would be standing outside my house all night by the hundreds with their hands in their pants (whose dream is this?!) By the way, pants needs a plural, like pantses. That's a good one. Otherwise all those little nasty people outside my window looking at my supergiant b-cup boobies would have to be sharing one pair of pants!, which might actually be fun for them, more fun than peeping at me. Except that they would probably all be guys and we can't have that. Or maybe not, girls like boobies too! Time to stop, says the big bad moth on the ceiling even though he hasn't moved in hours. I am getting too silly. October 12 My parents give me the absolute creeps. I think I must have been hatched from a turtle or something because I know they never had sex. I read that teenage boys have a sexual thought every seventeen seconds. But I am supposed to save mine for when I am eighteen. Let's have a science project! Postulate: I have just as much sex on the brain as boys. Proof: the sexes are equal! OK, so 5 years or say 4 and half since I'm almost 14 X every 17 seconds = (shit!-- I hope this is right, I'm writing in pen) 17 s/min X 60min/hr X 24hr/day X 365 days/yr X 4.5 = (go to calculator)....... 40,208,400! So when I am eighteen I will meet a guy and he will ask me to have sex and I will say yes and then I will explode on him with 40 million suppressed sexual thoughts. And he will run away holding himself. Or he will like it -- even worse. Hopeless. October 13 I was going to write about other things but then I remembered this is only about sex. I hope this doesn't turn me into some sort of sexual freaking monster. Like that lady at the country club who is always in a bikini even thought she's fat and disgusting and it's about 20 degrees outside. Dad says my mouth is going to get me in trouble someday. Yah, like it hasn't already. Sorry I'm not your little princess, twirling her little baton. If I could just let some of my brains spill out my ear it would solve a lot. Margaret has started cutting herself. I don't know why exactly. She says it makes her feel in control. Margaret was my best friend until we were about 11. And then she started acting weird. I think I just never noticed how she is. She's very sweet, but I think not too smart sometimes. Anyway I sound mean so I'm going to stop. But I was just going to say that if maybe I could make a little incision in my head under the hair where I could hide it and let my brain just leak some, everyone would be happier. I know this is pretty snooty to say, but it's just me here so I don't have to be polite. October 14 It seems like girls hardly ever have a sense of humor. (This does have to do with sex, trust me.) The only ones who ever think I am funny are guys (see). And even then, not much. Guys are pretty stupid too. It's weird, the guys that think I'm funny never think I'm pretty and the guys that think I'm pretty never want me to be funny. So I hardly ever say anything. Margaret and Amy never think anything is funny accept when they're smoking or when they're pretending to like a boy or sometimes when they're on the phone, talking about stuff that isn't funny, just silly. I guess I think guys are really funny sometimes, but mostly I want to talk to the guys who are more serious. I guess that's just the way some people are. What kind of people, don't ask me. I met this guy Phillip who is funny sometimes but mostly he's shy. I think that is the way I like a guy to be best. Phillip looks like a guy I would like looks. I mean, I guess, I like the way he looks, that's all. He's kind of skinny. His knees are a little bit bony. But he's not too hairy. He has long hair but he's not a stoner. He can talk but he doesn't all the time, you know. I mean in class he hardly ever says anything, but when I talk to him he says things I like. I thinks he likes me alright but he doesn't like it when I talk to much or get too sarcastic. I guess sarcastic girls can be a pain in the ass. Only if they are on TV with a stupid audience laughing bogus laughs is it like OK. Pay me a million dollars and I rock otherwise shut up. I probably wouldn't like to hear it either, but sometimes its just nice to think of something witty and kind of just say it, to see how witty it sounds. I think there just aren't too many situations where wit is interesting to anyone, you know. It's like cool or nothin, dude! October 16 My boobs hurt yesterday so I didn't write anything. I didn't feel like it. At least getting boobs gives you some more excuses. They should make it an official excuse, like Mom should be able to write, "please excuse Mary from writing anything today. Her boobs hurt." That would be really good. Except what if like Mr. Michelson forgot and he called me up to the board and I was like, "Um, Mr. Michelson did you forget about my boobs?" And he would be like, "Oh yah, Mary has a boob pass." Like a hall pass. They could make a little card. With a picture on it. You could flash it if someone questioned you. Mom caught me looking at my boobs in the mirror this morning. I wasn't just looking at them. I was holding them. Being goofy. I started just to see if they still hurt. Also I was kind of checking myself for lumps. I read this thing about breast cancer, and so I thought I would give myself an examination, to see what they were talking about. Then I was just playing around and Mom walked in. I told her the breast cancer thing but I don't think she went for it. She looked very disappointed, like I just flunked math or something. Or lost a tennis match. She said thirteen year old girls don't get breast cancer, but if they weren't careful they could get worse things. Right Mom, one minute I'm playing with my boobs in the mirror the next thing I'm pregnant with an AIDS baby, strapped to life support and excommunicated. Fuck. October 17 Man I'm a badass. That last entry was so like.... mature. Cussing and lingo and attitude out the wazoo. Who say the girl can't write? Actually I'm about to make myself puke. I sound like Madonna. Or Rosie with a cig. This is what I am going to do. It is Oct. 17. One month. I don't feel like quitting. But I've got to change my style. I don't like it. I am going to stop for one month and read some decent things. Like maybe George Eliot. Some really good writing. Or there is this lady I read named Byatt who is really good. I need to get serious about this stuff. I can't stand to read myself. I can't even stand to hear myself think. See you in a month! November 17 I am so much smarter now you will probably not recognize me. I have a vocabulary now approximately equal to Virginia Woolf. Just kidding. I did read some good stuff though. (I think Virginia used the word stuff quite often). I read A Room of One's Own and Silas Marner (I like that name, Silas. I think I will name my kid Silas) and part of Middlemarch and then Sugar by that Byatt lady. And also this book by this Australian lady named Miles Franklin. It was called My Brilliant Career. That was definitely my favorite. It was kind of sad though. Or scary. Because I thought at first she was like me, you know kind of pretty but basically loud and obnoxious, you know. And then she wrote this book that was kind of famous, and apparently men still liked her OK. But then I read this other book by her, that came out later when she was old, and it was so terrible. She sounded really unhappy and mean. It was called My Career Goes Bung. Really. She still was trying to be witty and clever, but she was just a sour old lady. It scared me. I hope I am not like that. I'm not sure I want to be a writer anymore. They always seem so pathetic. Like in The New Yorker there was this article by this woman who used to live with J. D. Salinger when she was younger. He wrote this famous book called The Catcher in the Rye but he was about 50 or so, I mean pretty old, and she was 18 I think. Anyway she lived with him but they never had sex. It was all really sad. She sounded like she was really smart but mostly crazy. Crazy when she was 18 and really crazy when she was whatever age she is now, 40 or 50, I don't know. He called her up because she was a writer and very pretty and he saw her picture in the paper and fell in love or whatever -- he wanted her to be his love slave. So what. I don't blame him. He asked is all. I think if you are like 18 and a girl and you don't want old famous guys falling in love and calling you up to be their love slave, don't put a picture of yourself in the paper and all over your book looking all pretty. Put a picture of George on it, all bald and fat with like spaghetti in his teeth. Or pull a Skinhead O'Conner and shave your fucking head and burn the pope. I heard she went with Peter Gabriel and he's pretty old. But J.D. he was pretty crazy too. He was always eating pizza and throwing it up or taking her to acupuncturists or other crazy shit. And she was the victim. Waaaah! Just say no, girl. Of course, she didn't have the benefit of all our education: you know, how to avoid men at all times and make them feel like the lowest worms in the universe while at the same time taking ourselves to sexual heaven with just a finger or a shiny toy! Except that junior high girls don't get shiny toys or shiny boys. Unless they are very bad. I must not think bad thoughts! Ooh! November 18 I forgot to tell about Phillip. We kissed for the first time a couple of weeks ago. He is not a very good kisser. But what am I some kind of expert. I had to show him how to use his tongue. I don't think he'd ever frenched before. Mostly I was kissing him. I made him take off his shirt. We were at his house. In his basement, you know. I think he was afraid his dad would come barging in and get the lawnmower or something in the middle of the night. He was pretty nervous. I wanted to see his chest. He didn't have any hair yet. There was a little under his arms. He didn't ever ask me to take off my shirt although I was dying to show him my boobs. I finally have something to show and no one wants to see it. He didn't even feel around! That's OK. He's so cute, and he's good to talk to. He'll probably get more grabbier when he gets older. Guys are so shy when they're about fourteen or fifteen. I swear, every girl at school who has done it has done it with a high school guy. It's like guys don't even get horny until they're in high school or something. Not that I'd do it if Phillip asked me, but I kind of wanted to do more than he did. At least look around. High school boys are always bastards though. They always want you to ride in their car. Like that's real impressive. I think it's because they can boink you and drop you off faster in a car. It's all a question of efficiency. November 19 DiDi and Bryan Morris now have this thing or whatever. DiDi said Bryan gave her this plush dog that looks like pokemon on acid. I said what is she a three year old. But she said he was really sweet and all that. Bryan Morris is neon shitballs from the moon. No more no less. I didn't tell DiDi that, but anyway. I could tell you about Bryan Morris, but you are me anyway so you already know and what's the point. He does have a nice body though. November 21 Me and Amy had a chance to sort of practice yesterday. She pretended to be the boy. She took all my clothes off and gave me kisses in some places, like my boobs but not anywhere else really sexy. Then I pretended to be the boy but I didn't really get into it. I kissed her on the mouth and then on her shoulders and her arms but I was kind of scared to kiss anywhere else. Amy is very pretty, but she's kind of doughy and white. Plus I'm not really practicing the part of the guy, I'm practicing to be the girl. You could say, yah, but if you don't be the guy, she can't practice being the girl. I know, but I guess I was just afraid she might enjoy it too much and then she would want to do it again and I would always have to be the guy and never get to practice being the girl. I didn't really like being the girl either, though. It felt kind of perverty. You can't be told something is kind of perverty your whole life and then just do it and feel completely normal. I mean I don't think anything is wrong with it. But it was more like an experiment, not really a lesbo experiment just a sex experiment, like seeing what it was like. You can't really pretend a girl is a guy, though, I don't think. It just doesn't work. I need to talk to Phillip. I've got to get that boy going. November 22 Thanksgiving is tomorrow and we have to go to Richfield. I'd rather go to a fiery pit but whatever. November 29 A teacher at Windwood (HS) got caught this week kissing on this girl in his class, like at lunch outside behind some building or something. Amy knows her sister. Amy says that she had been flirting with him for months. But he's a goner. I don't even know why they hire men anymore at schools. I don't even know why they allow them to be born. November 30 Finals are coming up in a couple of weeks and I know absolutely nothing about nothing. What am I doing? Why am I here? I think I will go straight from ninth grade into college where I can have my own apartment and skip class everyday. What ambition, Mary! Just do it, Virginia Slim. Now for my sexbit of the day: Phillip is suddenly interested in Sidney Polanski. Apparently she doesn't put so much pressure on him. Oi! December 3 My birthday! Many Happys to you, you gorgeous gallereena! No one else would say it so I have to. Sweet fourteen, a lucky age for Juliette. No what is it? Sweet sixteen. What is fifteen? Pre-sweetened? And fourteen? Lightly frosted fourteen? Not from concentrate? Semi-sweet? Sugarless? No, that was thirteen. Thoroughly sugarless thirteen. Lightly frosted fourteen. But, oh, when do I get frosted? Naughty! December 4 I saw a picture of a guy's thing in a magazine today. A dirty magazine. Jeffrey showed me. I think he was trying to turn me on. But it wasn't so beautiful. It was ugly, to tell you the truth. But I think it was just an ugly guy. I don't think all guy's things are so ugly. This guy had lots of black hair around his. And it was kind of gnarly and veiny. I wish I had seen a handsome guy's thing for my first time. I haven't seen one before, really. Not a man's. It was interesting to see it erect, though. They're bigger than I thought. Of course, this was a porn star or something so maybe he's a freak. December 6 I told Jeffrey to let me look at some other magazines where you could see different guys. I thought maybe I could see one that was better looking. Most of the women in there were really ugly, too. I mean some of them were OK in general, but their things were all so weird looking. The women had lips, you know down there that didn't look anything like mine. They were all messy and bumpy. With lots of folds, lots more than they would ever need. I wonder if they get that way from too much sex. I dont think I want to have too much sex if my labia things start to look like that. I heard that after you have a baby you're so stretched out the guy can go in there with like clearance. You can have sex and not even know it. Maybe these women have had babies. If they have so much sex they probably have. I guess they're all on the pill though. Still if the pill is like 99%, and you have sex 1000 times, that's ten babies right there. One woman did have one that looked kind of like mine. More simple. And I found a guy, this blond guy without much hair on his chest. He looked pretty young. His thing wasn't too scary. It looked kind of friendly. The sex in there is definitely not hot, though. It looks like its posed by a really stupid person, like a retarded director. And the actors are total rejects. Ugly creepos or good-looking creepos. Take your pick. Way sexy. December 15 I got all that dirty magazine stuff on my mind and I couldn't get it off. I had to ask Jeffrey to show me his. He said he wouldn't unless I showed him mine. I told him I would show him my boobs. He said OK. He would have showed me anyway, the little freak. That was what this was all about anyway, wasn't it? But I guess I wanted to show someone my boobs and this was my big chance. I was tricky. I showed him my boobs first. I thought he might get a boner and then I would get to see it. It worked but it wasn't much. Jeffrey is only fourteen, and the boy is not likely to be drafted by porn-central yet. Now I'm all confused. Is Jeffrey closer to normal or the guys in the magazine? this is on a strictly need-to-know basis, you know right. December 20 Jeffrey keeps calling me. He says he has a Christmas present for me. I bet he does. He says no, really, in a box. Wrapped. I don't want to buy him a present and I wish he would go away and leave me alone. December 22 I told Jeffrey today that I would trade gifts with him on one condition: that he never call me again! He was driving me crazy. I told him my gift to him would be a picture of my boobs, then he would leave me alone. He said sure. I made Amy take the picture so I could be sure my face wasn't in it. But we couldn't figure out where to get it developed. Like I'm just going to walk into Eckerd with a picture of my own boobs! So I just gave Jeffrey the whole camera (disposable). He'll figure something out. You know guys. December 26 Christmas is the phoniest holiday ever invented. Fortunately it has nothing to do with sex, so I don't have to talk about it here. You would be even more shocked by what I have to say about Christmas than my Catholic girl gone bad sexploits. December 29 Amy's sister is on the pill and she is only 16. She said all you have to do is go to planned parenthood and you can get on the pill or if you're worried about your parents noticing the pills you can get a diaphragm or at least condoms. You can get condoms at school. Like anybody would. Like just walk into the nurse's and grab a handful of rubbers. Sure. I think it's just a trap. If you're a guy and you walk in there a try to get a condom they probably wrap you in chains and feed you to alien babies. If you're a girl they probably make you implicate at least five male teachers before they let you go, and then they put your name on the watch list. 24 hour surveillance, swat team, computer chip implants, black helicopters, FBI files, Presidential de-briefing. Or in our case, Presidential un-briefing. Wow. Witty. I don't think I need any pills yet. Maybe a boyfriend. January 2 Fireworks! Bread and Circuses! Fourteen year old smartasses! Jaded beyond our years. The futures so bright I gotta wear full-spectrum sunscreen with UVA and UVB protection and an SPF of at least 30. Reapplied every four hours. Or after swimming. Or heavy sweating. Or sleet. January 3 School started again today. Margaret wasn't there. She's in Freeman's now. She was in therapy but now she's in "the program." I'll probably never see her again. Once you go in there you never get better. If you're depressed by being around "normal" people how are you going to be less depressed by being around lots of other girls cutting themselves and trying to commit suicide? They say her dad was the problem, but I don't know. So arrest him, but don't put her in jail! Or the hospital or whatever. It makes me so mad I could scream. Mom wants me to go into therapy. She says it will help me with my anger. So I tell her to go fuck herself. Just kidding. Maybe I've got something to be angry about, Mom. What is the therapist going to do about that? Is he going to solve my problems? No. He's just going to talk slowly and sensibly and try to mainstream me. Or give me some happy pill, so I can vegetate with the rest of the bubsters. Give me some more just say no advice. "Mary, have you considered watching more television, Mary. How about the internet, Mary. A nice chatroom might help you to let off a bit of that steam." Bite a nut, Mr. Shrinkman. January 4 Since I'm going to Windwood next year, I have to have this orientation bullshit stuff. They take us all over to the high school and give you the tour. I don't know why. Like you're going to go, "Man, this place is just not up to my standards, how about you send me someplace nice." You're going there regardless, so why not just orientate once you get there? Everything's process. Everything's some phony ritual, done because it's done. Like they showed us the tennis courts. Why? I've seen tennis courts before. There's nothing different about these. Yep, lines, check. Net, check. Fence, check. You guys got it all! This place is the neatest! I can't wait to matriculate! But if you make any kind of joke, like to lighten the goddamn pall, they look at you like you're Buffy the Vampslayer. A girl is supposed to have absolutely no personality. A guy too, really. They're all zombies. But they show us all this crap anyway, with some kind of sleepy expectancy, like you're just going to dance around the maypole and give them a shiny apple. I'm so sarcastic I could hurl on myself. January 9 I had to take a couple of days off from thinking. I'm starting to sound like a trenchcoater. Like a Goth. I hate those people. Mopey angry dorks with computers and cloves. Who cares. Go kill yourselves but leave me alone. I need more days off. That high school really ruined me for laughs. I don't like the vibe of that place at all. February 2 Man I nearly crashed. I had to relax. What I did was go to the park, even when it like bitter cold and snowing like shit and sit there and just look at stuff. Everyday I just went and looked at nothing really. Just trees. And snow or whatever. Maybe a dog sometimes. I also spent time at the public library. But I had to be careful there. I had to stay away from the magazines, because there's always some bad news or some stupid article that makes you mad or sad, or some tan girl that makes you feel like a fat white cow, and I stayed away from the signs, too, you know signs on the wall about meetings and upcoming events and all that. Those things are always killer to the psyche because no one is ever doing or planning anything interesting. Just lots of miserable stuff that makes you depressed about other people's lives. And then the guys at the library are always following you around, looking at you like a hotdog. Asking you stupid questions or telling you this stuff about... nothing, about some book they read on alien spacecraft or Freud or people who live inside the earth, and you can't tell them you're not stupid, because they're stupid and they wouldn't understand that. They think all you know is like Powerpuff Girls and 98 Degrees. Like Im going to date some ugly 30 year old with yellow teeth and backissues of Guns and Ammo. I guess I'm not really much better yet. It doesn't help to write it. It's better to just pretend things are good. February 14 I reread my journal and I don't like it. My style has gotten worse. I sound like a rapster. I just need some extra big pants held up only by my pubic hair. Most girls want to sound like a guy, I guess, or sound like there's no difference. But I want to sound like a girl. I want to be charming and sweet sometimes. I just want to read this and like me. I don't. I want to sound like Virginia Woolf. Strong and smart and sensitive, but with grace. Or less noise. I don't know what it is. Her sentences are longer, for one thing. But that's not it. And it's not the vocabulary, although that wouldn't hurt. There's this softness to her voice it seems that comes through in her writing. You just know she is a woman. A woman who likes to be attractive and have nice furniture and spend time brushing her hair and who would have nice hands if she gave you a massage. A guy always gives you a crappy massage because his hands are rough or clumsy. I guess maybe a professional piano player or a surgeon might be different. Maybe Van Cliburn could give you a good massage, maybe. But Virginia Woolf, you just know she could give you a good massage and make you feel so sleepy and happy after about five minutes. My writing is not like that. It is just the opposite of that. I hate it. I don't like the way other women write now either, I mean real women, older writers. Except for Byatt. People can't write anymore. People can't do anything anymore except play the stock market and buy stuff. Valentine's day and I didn't have anything sexy to say. February 17 God I should have never trusted that Jeffrey Ainsworth. He took that roll of film and made about a hundred pictures and he's sold them to all his friends. And they all know it's me. Steven Kite came up to me in the hall and go's "nice tits." And I'm like what. But then later Amy told me. I told Jeffrey to give me back the negatives and quit being such a loser. He said he'd give me ten bucks for a picture of DiDi's rear. I said no way, what does he think we're a bunch of slutpuppies over here. Bedsides, 10 bucks? He probably made about 500. And if he didn't give me that negative I was going to tell his Mom about his mag stash. He said she already knew but I don't think so. And then he said if I did he would post me on the web with my name and phone number. I said if he did I would tell the police and he could rot in jail. He say, "Yah, nevermind." So I anyway I got the negative but he probably has a copy. Anyway I have famous boobs now. I just wish I had the money. February 18 I forgot to tell what Jeffrey gave me for Christmas. It's so stupid. He made this little diorama with me and him in it and also in it was this little tiny Grover doll (Jeffrey thinks Grover invented the world) and this tiny tiny Badzu which he saw in my room. One big happy family! Jeffrey needs some serious help from Mars. February 19 Here's some more words for me to avoid (like I will). Fuck shit anyway vibe crap all cuss words ass sexploits Stuff slutpuppy dork bubster retarded dude or dudette killer You know I don't know Plus I need good words for body parts. I can't just say thing. That's like so childish. I looked in the thesaurus but it didn't help. I hate penis. It's such a stupid word. And phallus the same, it sounds like a greek word. All the other words say slang or dialect next to them. That means they're dirty. They didn't have very many. Not even dick or cock or stuff like that. The one I liked was cod. Like it's a fish. Lingam is Indian, but that doesn't sound right. I think I will just say bitte, like in French. It sounds kind of fakey at first, when you first use it, but maybe I will get used to it. Yoni is the best word I have found for mine. It looks like a yoni. Like a little hole. Pussy is too cutesy, besides it is more about the fur than the real hole, which is the thing. Clit is alright, but it is just your button. All the other words are what guys call it. And vagina is for scientists and doctors. Boobs is not much of a word. It's such an ugly word when you say it, especially if you think about it. But all the other words are guy words and breast always reminds me of chicken. February 20 DiDi and Bryan Morris broke up. Shocker, right. DiDi said they did practically everything but still not enough for Bryan Morris. You have to practically make a porn movie with Bryan Morris or he won't think you're hot. That's what it is with highschool guys. Complete pervs. Bryan Morris once asked me something you wouldn't believe. Well you would because you are me and you already know but I can't write it down. I don't think I would do that even if I was a porn star. What's the point. February 21 Bryan Morris heard about my boobs and so he thought I was a sexgirl now, so he's calls and starts purring in my ear like he does, the shit. If I had a boyfriend at all I would have told him to go fuck himself (which I'm sure he does anyway, hourly) but I don't so I sat there and listened to him. He does have a great body. So I met him at Slade's (park). I thought I could easily get a look at his bitte (fakey?) then I would know more about average. Although who says Bryan Morris is going to be average. He might be a freak. Big or little. I kissed Bryan Morris in 7th grade, but he wasn't such a perv then. You could just kiss. I had to show him my yoni. Bryan Morris is no Jeffrey Ainsworth. You have to trade even. He looked at mine real close and said it was nice. He said it was very cleanlooking. I said of course it's clean how would it get dirty. And he said no I mean its small, you know and pretty. Not all mudflappy like some. Bryan Morris will say anything. So he showed me his. Bigger than Jeffrey but not freaky big. It wasn't hard or anything, I mean he didn't have a boner even after looking at my yoni which I was a little surprised. He said I could touch it if I wanted him to get bigger. I did, want it to get bigger I mean but I was scared to touch it. It was like it was alive, like or frog or something that might suddenly jump. He said it didn't move that fast. Then he said, real cool, not unless he wanted it to. What a horndog. So I touched it and it was totally soft. The skin was really soft. And it started to get bigger and I thought what am I doing is this having sex. Bryan Morris said I should stroke it and he showed me how. Then he said I should kiss it and I said in your dreams. He said I would like it. I said maybe but I had to think about it. I would do it when I wanted to, not as any favor to Bryan Morris who I didn't owe a thing. He said I was a tough little bitch. He said he would kiss mine and that I would really like that. I said no way. I' m not letting his head down there. Then he said he would just use his fingers. I said so what I can do that. He said he couldn't talk to me and left. I wouldn't mind trying a few things, but I don't think with Bryan Morris. He is always with other girls. Plus that comment about mudflaps and me being clean made me wonder if those other girl are not clean. Who knows what Bryan Morris does with that bitte? February 26 I dreamed about Bryan Morris every night for about three days in a row. I need to find another guy like Phillip but who will fool around more. February 27 I finished the Bell Jar. It was very good but I wish I hadn't read it. I don't want to be crazy. March 1 Why do people eat red apples? I think it is a symbol of everything else, how boring people are. Red apples are the worst ones. They're boring and they don't hardly taste like anything. Almost any other apple is better. A yellow apple is sweeter. And the best is a Granny Smith. If you want something not so strong, eat a pear. You know what the most popular flavor of ice cream is? Vanilla. March 2 "There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt in your philosophy." That's from Hamlet. It reminded me of the apples. People always forget about Granny Smiths. If they can't remember Granny Smiths how can they know about sex or love or science or philosophy? People don't know anything. March 5 I was at this Phish concert and this girl who goes to Windwood, this really smart girl who is pretty, too, but I think crazy, was talking about her boyfriend who goes to Taft (college) and she said that we were being denied our rights by the government. She said it was against the law for her to sleep with her boyfriend because he is more than 18 and she is only 16. He could get arrested, so they have to sneak around like criminals or something even though they are in love and are getting married in a couple of years. She said that the feminists should start a class-action lawsuit for the right of teenage girls to choose their own boyfriends. I said what's that. She said where they sue in a group so there is more attention. Even if her parents said it was OK he could still get arrested. Things are strange in this country. I think I might go to college in Europe, on one of those exchange programs or whatever. At least people are crazy in a different way over there. This gets old. April 2 We had to read the diary of Anne Frank, I guess because she is like our age. I think it's a fake, though. It just sounds like a set up. I can't believe she would have talked that way. Even if she is super smart, the words are wrong. Mrs. Lattimer says that is because the translation is in British English instead of American English, so it sounds more proper. Maybe. I doubt it. They shouldn't have cleaned it up so much then, if so. She sounds like Miss Manners and she seems unbelievable. I hope she slept with that boy Peter before she died, if she was real. April 3 I was reading about this method of birth control where you keep a chart of all your periods and then you know when you can get pregnant and all that. So I started keeping a chart. I have to keep it in my locker at school because if Mom found it she would think I wasn't a virgin of course and then I would be guillotined for about a week. Like I really need birth control right, but it sounded like a good science project, you know one with a point, where I might know something actually useful for a change if it works. And then it's kind of fun keeping tabs on yourself, so you're not just burning tampons for no reason and everything is just like a hassle. This way you're taking care of the womb, you know, like when you carry around one of those eggs for a day to see if you can not break it. Except this isn't a chicken egg this is your own thing. My periods vary a whole lot I guess because of cross country and I'm pretty skinny. Also I'm young and girls aren't real even. Like the first month I was 29 days and then the second month I skipped and then the third month I was 38 days. It's hard to use my chart for birth control because there isn't a pattern, but if you take your temperature everyday you know when you ovulate. I haven't gotten that good at it. I never can tell when the temperature changed until the end of the month and I connect all the dots. Even then it's hard. You can also check your fluids and your cervix but I don't like sticking my fingers in that far usually. April 4 I think this journal has backfired partly. Mrs. Lattimer says my writing has digressed and she is right probably. She says I run over the commas now. I used to could write better than this and in English I got good grades. I can still write if I want to but it is easier to write like in this journal and I like it better anyway. Other writing always sounds phony now. Like a robot. People don't think like that. I am going to let my writing get even worse I think until only I can read it. For one thing I am going to use a lot more contractions and shorthand kind of stuff if I can figure it out and remember to do it. Maybe I'm just lazy but I don't want to sound like Anne Frank who was afraid to look at the cat's bitte. April 5 I found out at school today that bitte in German means please or you're welcome. That is kind of funny. If you're me you could say that in French it also means please. Please, boy, please! I must not think bad thoughts. IMNTBT. Thank you boy. You're welcome says boy. April 6 Amy turned 15 today. She is older than me. She is a virgin too but she is not boycrazy. I am afraid she is girlcrazy. She is not anythingcrazy really, but she keeps wanting to practice more. She will bring it up like it's nothing, just mention it to see what I will say, but I can tell she wants to. Especially if we are smoking she will bring it up. We can smoke at her house because her parents smoke and they don't know the difference. If there was any pot at my house my parents would freak. If I don't get a boyfriend soon I might practice with Amy again. Sometimes you just need to be touched by somebody. Even Roy gets petted. April 7 I went to see Mrs. Jones this afternoon and now even she is worried about me I think. I told her about Amy and she said that didn't matter. I would always like boys and whatever was fun was alright as long as it was fun for both. She said Amy knew I liked boys. But then we talked about other stuff and she said it was normal to think about sex a lot but that I should concentrate on school more if I could. I said I could concentrate better instead of worse if I had a boyfriend and she said maybe. She gives good advice but I have no self-control. April 8 Eric Kelly told me that guys jack off at least once a day but I can't believe it. I mean that's pretty horny. Amy said it's true, her brother told her. I play about twice a week and I thought I was bad. I wonder how often you have sex if you're married. You know at first. Probably everyday. That might be too much. I wonder if guys ever think it is too much? Guys can do it just looking at pictures. That's weird. I don't know if that means they have more imagination or less. They have to imagine everyday, but they can look at pictures for help. If I could look at pictures like that would I do it more often? Maybe it's just those pictures, I mean maybe there are pictures that girls would like better. Pictures taken by girls. Maybe. I don't know, though. April 10 I got my hair cut today and I went to this real cheap place for a cut like a moron because they do it for like 10 bucks. And I think this girl must have been training on me because she didn't know anything. All I wanted was 1 stupid inch off the ends off the bottom. You know I have long hair and all I want is for it to be healthy, everybody knows that. I told her that twice in case she was stupid like every other stupid person I meet. I was watching her in the mirror or trying to, of course the mirror is behind me like that does any good, they don't turn you around to the mirror until you've been good and butchered like totally bald. She got it uneven at first and then she tried to even it up for about an hour and I kept telling her to just stop and finally I just got up but already there was about four inches gone. I could have stuck the scissors in her stupid eye. I said I wasn't paying her it would take me a fucking year to grow it back and she said they would call the police and I said fine whatever and just walked. I think I might go back at night and put a brick through the window except she wouldn't have to pay for it the owner would so fuck it. April 11 I have a theory about my writing which is it is like Virginia Woolf kind of. She had this idea about stream of consciousness where your writing follows your thoughts without a lot of planning and stuff. I think that mine is more like that than hers because now I don't even have to worry about commas or anything else. Once I get rid of the periods then I'll really be free and then I can write in all smallcase like that little cricket who hopped on the keys I always think of him as Jiminy but he was before Jiminy. You could say this is just lazy but that is what they said about VW but I am lots lazier than her because I don't give a crap about anything since I'm not publishing this what do I care about what they said or say or will say. I think some periods are good you need them when you are reading it yourself. You don't want to confuse yourself but the rest of its just a waste. I think I will drop the ' from its, you always know from context. And I will spell there and your only one way unless it is confusing instead of going back and retyping it just to be anal. Leave the ' out of dont. I mean a diary is just for your own brain and you dont correct all that in your brain or worry about putting it into standard form who cares. Its much better if you get in more thoughts maybe Ill change my mind later and decide I need more discipline but now this is fun. that period was redundant since the end is obvious or was before I kept writing April 12 i think this is going to make me even more difficult to talk to in real life but who cares like its a big loss for me, nobody talks to me now that i want to talk to. see that period was a natural stop in my thinking not the end of a sentence but the end of a thought i had to stop and think about stuff. I could just use a capital letter, both a capital and a period are usually redundant and a waste of time typing. i think i will use the period because im already so used to using periods and it is a waste to backspace erase them. i think even mispellings i will leave if they are close like usaully what else would it be? also question marks are usually stupid because you already said what or where or why or how. the thing is i think nobody really has anything to say that is important and the form of the sentences is something for people to look at, when if you got rid of it there wouldn't hardly be anything left. thats what poetry is a lot of the time just an excuse for having nothing to say so you try to say it real roundabout or in fancy words or in a different way or so convoluted it is like a puzzle. a puzzle where you put all the pieces together before you are allowed to be bored to death. I think this is kind of like that i admit because i am supposed to be writing about sex remember but i don't ever have sex so i have to keep myself occupied reinventing my language like some pathetic loser playing dungeons or dragons. but at least i invented this for myself instead of playing somebody elses game. im sure someone else has done this like that cricket guy i think it was ogden nash no e e cummings i remembered because of the little e's. but not exactly like me. isabel met an enormous bear isabel isabel didnt care the bear was hungry the bear was ravenous the bears big mouth was cruel and cavernous isabel isabel didnt care she didnt run and she didnt scare (is that right, close enough) she washed her hands and she tied her hair up then isabel quietly ate the bear up I never can remember that exactly. i always liked it April 14 i was thinking that flow is important in writing and I never really realized it until i wrote like this and theres absolutely no flow. I mean it flows forward but there is no rhythm like in good writing where it goes up and down and starts and stops and it is soothing and pretty like VW. she is stream of consciousness but she is still writing for the beauty of the line too kind of like a long poem but not really a poem because its not shortened and theres no rhyme or meter although theres no rhyme or meter in poetry now either usually. This is kind of the opposite of hemingway you know in a farewell to arms which i hated not only because it is about war and the characters are all made of plastic bags and the men are boring and the women make me sick but also the sentences are all like five words long like subject verb object SVO like Nick got up. he put on his bathrobe. the nurse grabbed his dick. spot ate the beachball. this is like that except the opposite no stops just ramble ramble ramble rambling rose (i loved that movie laura dern is great and she is hot too and i think i would practice with her), OK this is not really like hemingway at all except i mean it is almost as annoying but not quite because hemingway is never funny and at least i give myself a good time. there is this artist named whistler you know who did whistlers mother (why do isay you know when i am already talking to myself) a famous painting and he hated everybody because they were all so boring and he said 'early in life i made the discovery that i was charming and if one is delightful one has to cast the world away to keep from being bored to death' I will use single quotes because then you dont have to hit shift. i wonder if whistler would have liked a girl like me if we could hang and have fun or if he would have to be the one being delightful all the time Some guys are like that they are delightful but they wont let anyone else be delightful too. i wonder if two charming people can charm eachother, whistlers girlfriends didnt sound too interesting. very few people are that charming and maybe they dont meet eachother very often so you end up making due. that is sad to think about but probably usually true. then if two charming people get together maybe they dont necessarily want to have sex i mean maybe the guy is ugly or the girl or maybe they just dont like eachother. people like people for strange reasons like some guys cant deal with girls who have feet that look one way or they will fall for a girl who is ugly just because she has a nose like the boys mom. and girls are the same way it never makes any sense April 16 i turned in a thing to mrs lattimer in this style just to see what she said. she said it makes her dizzy and she hopes i will grow out of it soon until then c-. she said i was very creative and brave or it would have been an f. i tried to explain to her that there was a reason for all this but she said there is a reason for doing it the other way too. i think the reasons are faulty and just because they have been around for a million years doesn't mean there right. i mean like i said tuesday i can see why i might want to start thinking about flow again and i will but punctuation is so arbitrary and unreasonable it seems like a big waste of energy. not discipline but just smallness. mrs lattimer gave me this book by mccarthy and said just read the first page of each chapter and see if maybe i change my mind. i did, read it i mean but i did not change my mind. his sentences are beautiful so i understand her they are like little poems and his vocabualry is so interesting even though i had to keep going to the dictionary. at least with him it was worth it they were good words. but i read the whole book not just the first pages and he wasnt very interesting overall. he was kind of scary and empty but his charcters were like hemingway in that they were plasticbaggies and the women were nobodies not even plastic just fome peanuts and there was no point to anything. nothing was funny and nothing was scary for a reason or weird for a reason or nice for a reason. nothing was nice really. i mean i dont need bambi on every page but like i said with the bell jar i dont want to be crazy it is not a big goal of mine May 2 amy and me finally practiced again i was so lonely i was about ready to practice with roy just kidding but if roy ever petted back it would help. i slept over there, so we could do whatever we wanted, im surprised more girls arent lesbians since they let us sleep together even though we're 15. boys dont sleep in the same bed like that when they are 15 everybody would think they were gay for sure. i dont think our parents would care really even if they knew. nobody gets pregnant no matter what you do. maybe the parents would be happier if they just put all the boys to death then no worries. no fags no unwanted pregnancies. we were naked all night it was dark but amy wanted to see so she kept turning on this flashlight. shes really weird. it did feel good to hug her and stuff and we fingered eachother this time and that was nice but i think i am better at it than she is so it was probably felt better for her. she doesnt really know how to do it that good. She gave me a backrub too and a leg and foot massage and she kept playing with my hair. she has pretty hair too and i gave her a head massage and i also brushed her hair before we went to bed. we thought about taking a bath but her parents might hear us. they never bother us we could have sex in the hall with about ten guys but baths are pretty noisy and i didnt want to do it. i dont feel perverty now just worried that amy will expect too much May 6 amy is acting weird like we're married or something. she planned for me to sleep over on friday but i told her i had cross country on saturday morning and i needed to sleep lots. i probably will practice more with her but not every week. May 15 i still havent slept over at amys again and she is acting crazy. now i know how guys feel. she is all possessive she saw me with charlie thompson and threw a fit like charlie thompson is anybody. i dont even like charlie thompson but she said he liked me and she misses me. i told her she knows i want a boyfriend and we are just practicing right and she said right. i asked her if she likes guys and she said of course May 26 i got my final back today in health and this is the story. teachers are evil monsters from the planet burp. mr dickhead stevens actually came up to me and said 'mary i just want you to know that you got the high score on the final out of all my classes but your still getting a b.' like teaching me a big lesson. he just wants to feel like a big man even though he's a dickhead who combs his hair over and I was so mad I go Yah and your still an asshole. so I had to go to the office and I told ms longbottle about the dummie (i mean i refused to do mouth to mouth on the dummie cpr cindy because her head accidentally fell off and it was all full of spit and bacteria even though we wipe the outside with alcohol or whatever, and stevens said i had to do it, it was a requirement of the class or i would get an automatic b, and i said whatever.) she said we should have cleaned cindy out. and i thought we should have cleaned dickhead mr s out. but I said we didnt, thats the point. i said i knew cpr and didnt need to kiss some filthy dummy thats giving everybody strep, probably. I mean they tell you everybodys getting aids from kissing and from breathing practically which is such bs but then when there is a real problem nobody cares, least of all the health teacher! people are like totally fucked up. and i think stevens got in trouble, but i got in trouble mostly. im supposed to spend a week in iss during the summer but i think im going to skip it. im finished with that shithole and what are they going to do keep me from going to highschool because I wont kiss a dummy May 28 I finally sleptover at amys again. school was out yesterday so now the whole summer is here finally. she was in heaven she made me tell how it felt good and she is getting better but i dont know. i tried to just let myself have fun and i did but i still want a guy, i kept thinking about those pictures and i saw another picture of guys things i mean bittes in this benotten ad where there are just peoples things, men and women, all colors mostly too hairy and some not so beautiful but some alright. no hardons of course it was in a regular magazine at a normal store i was very surprised but maybe it was a european ad. of course you can see porn at the library but no one but perverts do, who wants to be seen looking at that stuff in the library i might as well wear a rapeme sign. amy said she could get a vibrator her mom has one and she could borrow it and i said gross and she said well how about a new one? and i said your going to just buy it and she said sure mail order. i said no. it doesnt seem right sticking plastic in there (i know tampons right) but i mean more as a philosophical thing. being unnatural before you have even been natural. doing manmade devices before a man. it cant be explained its just a feeling i have. amy thinks i am a throwback May 29 i dont have any plans this summer really although mrs lattimer said i should write a lot not just in my journal but some other projects. she gave me some ideas maybe i will. mrs jones told me to keep busy this summer or i would just make myself miserable. she said dont kids go to camp anymore and i said i wish, at least there you can go out in the woods with some boy except that now they probably have all the boys at camp with beeper collars on or dicklocks. mrs jones said she wishes she could introduce me to some nice boy but young people are so distant these days, there always inside with computers or they have loud music and you cant talk to them she said. they dont talk to old people. when she was a girl young people talked to old people. i said i talked to her and she yes but i was different. May 30 I thought i might shorten things even more like 2 for to or too and b for be but it was too much like prince who i think is so overrated so i decided not to. when he licks his finger and stuff i almost vomit May 31-- does may have a 31? amy is so nuts. she like has to tear the toilet paper along the perforations. she gets mad if you rip the paper halfway. she says, "What do you think the perforations are for?" Very strange. i laughed at her and she got mad. June 5 I went to visit Margaret, she came home for a while, permanently i hope but she didn't look so hot. I heard she tried to o.d. at that school but they pumped her stomach. i wish there was someplace normal she could go without her dad or crazy people or doctors or shrinks. i wish there was someplace normal i could go but at least my dad is only boring and not a perv as far as i know June 6 didi joined our club at amys. i didn't know at first but i showed up and it was a slumber party, it was a lot more fun because it wasnt so serious. i mean we did stuff, even more, and didi didnt blink an eye i think she has done it all, maybe with amy before, i dont care, but at least amy wasnt on me the whole time you know. we all had a lot of fun and laughed, amy and me didnt laugh much before just giggled sometimes. i know didi likes guys too so that made it better for some reason plus i have to admit that didi is better she makes me feel really good. we were all naked and didi wouldnt let amy have the flashlight so you could really feel everything without any distractions. June 8 i think it is easier to go back and read this stuff if i say it out loud, then it makes sense. but i have to be careful because if someone hears me reading this they will think im a sexgirl June 9 i am now writing on my laptop. since april really. i almost filled that journal and my hand is tired of writing with a pen. I had this nuclear callous on my finger from writing so much. i think i grip the pen too tight. i have been working on my flow, and i think that i can reintroduce rhythm in without getting bogged down with punctuation. i need some punctuation though. and i figured out that commas are the most important thing in creating rhythm. i tried to get it every other way, but you cant do it without commas. i think by the end of the summer i will have a style that is more flowing, without bounces (like in hemingway: too many periods) and without long dizziness (like me: too few periods and commas). June 10 i think i figured out my problem with guys, why i dont meet any guys i like. i think maybe that girl at phish was right because i met this guy who was like 25 and he was really great. girls like me cant deal with teenage boys because there either too stupid or too horny. Im sure this guy was horny but he didnt show it all the time like a dork. but no way is he going to ask me out because i think he is scared of me, jailbait you know. i wish he would have. i think i am going to go absolutely wacko ballistic June 11 i keep thinking about that guy the older guy. either that or i think about didi. that guy was at this laundromat you know with the upsidedown sign, and i went in to make a call at the payphone because no way am i going to use a cellphone and get brain tumors, and he was reading and i saw him looking at me and then he was really cute and his book was interesting, it had a waterhouse picture on the cover, you know of the lady of shalott in the boat with the candles. i think the book was rossetti poems or something like that: 'the blessed damozel leaned out from the gold bar of heaven.' I said something about waterhouse being one of my favorites and he said him too and we talked and i practically fell in love but he never would ask for my number and i couldnt ask for his although i dont know why not except that if my parents found out i had a boyfriend who was 20 something they would have a cow but we could just lie, he didn't look old, he could pass for 19 i guess. so much for rhythm i am going breakneck because i have so much to say about this guy his name was eliot not such a great name but he was dreamy. i have never used that word but that is all he was. i think i have to go to sleep before my head explodes, i will dream about eliot except you never dream about what you want to dream about, its like a curse June 12 i was looking at people's laundry at the landrymat. kind of waiting for that guy. people are really weird. you know they stuff the dryers so full of clothes that the clothes don't even move around. like they're saving money by not putting quarters in another dryer. but its so stupid, i mean because these are AIR dryers-- but no air can get in the stupid dryer. there's not enough room for any air in there at all, the dryer is so full of stupid clothes. those dryers probably have to spin for about ten hours to dry anything like that. June 13 i have walked past that laundromat about fifty times in the last few days but eliot probably doesn't have to wash his clothes every three days. i bet he lives in the neighborhood but i havnt seen him at eckerd or shopnsav or 7/11 or anywhere June 14 amys parents are so weird, they have this vidcam set up in their bedroom don't ask me what for. i hope i dont see them on the internet i would probably hurl June 25 we went to colorado for a vacation. there was no sex so my journal isnt interested and it was all pretty boring since my parents were there so we did everything by the Boring Manual: dad checked it every few miles to be sure. June 27 amy put together a slumber party as soon as i got back. she was missing me and i was missing didi (and amy too i shouldnt be so mean) so we had a good time and laughed till we were sick. didi and amy got a vibrator while i was gone but i still wont touch the thing. it grosses me out. i asked them to only use it when i wasnt there otherwise i wouldnt come over anymore and they said OK. didi gave me an orgasm it was the first anybody has given me except me. i hope i dont fall in love with her now. just kidding. i think. we have started licking eachother but im not sure i like it. didi likes it a lot and amy likes anything when i am there. i wonder what eliot would think if he saw us all. i wonder if he would join us or if he would think we were weird. Guys usually like that stuff. i think i would like most of all just to be alone with him June 28 i have been reading alot and also writing a lot. i read some more poems by plath and her husband hughes. he is very good too but they are both violent and scary. i read watership down and i think it is my favorite book ever. I saw this movie, too, fly away home about these geese that fly behind this girl's airplane like she is a mothergoose, and i decided that is what i would be when i grow up, i would lead lost birds to their home if they were lost. no really maybe i can at least work for greenpeace and maybe go on one of those ships that gets between the whales and the harpoon ships, or work for a conservation agency tagging turtles or something. June 29 god i am so ready to have a boyfriend and get it over with. i feel like i will be a virgin forever, i know i am only 14 and a half but thats my whole life. girls used to get married when they were 13 or 14. I dont want to be married and i dont want kids yet, but later yah when im about 25 or at least out of college. some girls at school dont have boyfriends and dont seem to care, like they arent missing anything. or maybe there all over at amys. I think if you want to really bad and you have to wait too long it can be bad for you. like i have this theory that it is like sexual anorexia. you know you starve yourself for so long, then you lose your hunger and then your a sick puppy. your hungry, you don't eat = eating disorder. you want a guy, you have no guy = sex disorder. either you start hating guys (like its there fault!) or you become frigid or maybe you still like guys and you want to but you just cant, like when you wait too long to pee and then you cant, hardly. I know a lot of girls who are in college who have lots of problems. Didis sister is real messed up like that. and all those girls in therapy most of them are like that, the ones that arent like margaret June 30 jeffrey got arrested last night for selling drugs. i didnt even know he sold stuff. i bet the police found those pictures of me but they wont know because my face isnt in them. jeffreys only sixteen so he'll probably get probation or classes or whatever. i think he just had pot what else would he have, coke? i dont know. he's a rich boy, his parents will buy him off the first time im sure July 5 More bread and circuses. fireworks are so stupid. you've seen one you've seen em all, but they have to blow them up for about an hour and spend like 50,000 dollars. why dont they give the money to someone who needs it instead of blowing the shit out of the sky for an hour July 7 Margaret ran away from Freeman. they sent her back and she took off and im glad. i dont know where shes going to go though. i hope she doesn't end up in some titty bar but i dont know what else she will do for money. if she would write me i would send her some. i wish she could live here but her parents would never let her. maybe she will at least work at mcdonalds until she gets better July 8 i am so dreading going to windwood. that place gives me the creeps, like columbine or something. its the land of the living dead over there, i swear ive started playing a lot of tennis this summer. i always play tennis in the summer. usually cross country during school and then tennis at the countryclub. mom wants me to try out for the tennis team at windwood but i dont know. tennis girls are different than cross country girls. i can hardly stand the girls at the CC with there tennis bracelets and nosejobs and titjobs and the little jars they keep their personalities in. the only reason i like playing at the CC is so i can kick their tight little assjobs. but theres a lot of girls who can beat me at windwood im sure and its no fun losing to people you hate July 10 didi called and we are trying to figure out how to practice with just us. her parents are not like amys, there more tightasses like mine. im almost scared to be with didi alone, she likes guys too i know but still she is more dangerous for me than amy. didi and me could be bad for eachother. if eliot would just wash his damned clothes again July 14 I went over to taft but its just summer school and hardly anybody was around. i thought i might see some college guys, maybe even eliot even though i think he is out of college. he said he was 25 i think but maybe he is in graduate school. do they have graduate school in the summer? July 17 didi and me had to meet at slade park. it sounded exciting at first but we forgot about the mosquitoes and its no fun rubbing on someone who has Off! all over them so we got out of there and went to this girls bathroom in this cool hotel but people kept coming in and it wasnt very sexy so we left the building and went to amys July 19 me and didi found this hottub at these apartments where no one goes at night, they all go to sleep early or something, anyway it was past midnight and there's just this little light under the water where people can't see you even if they happen to look out there windows. it was scary at first but not dangerous because all you have to do is scream and there would be like 50 people there. we left our tops on just in case, but underwater we played with eachother and it was nice. didi is very good and she thinks i am good too July 22 my mom never reads hardly only People, and Time and the newspaper rarely. she thinks i have too much testosterone is why i am such a bitch. Time or someplace said girls who have too much testosterone are like me ~ aggressive and oversexed. so I told her to go get fucked. not really. but i dont think so. i told her that maybe some people have needs, they cant just live on air like a plant, i told her i dont have chlorophyll so i cant just manufacture all my own fake emotions, like she does with her soaps and talk shows and oprah. oprahs like her chlorophyll so she can just create an emotional life out of the little lightrays, without ever moving or knowing anybody or speaking to the world, i mean she doesnt even join those bookclubs or read the books, why bother when oprah can tell what they mean, which ones are good and which ones suck. she doesnt care about the book stuff anyway just the weepy stuff about peoples problems like she doesnt have enough already. there so pathetic oprah ought to just tell them all to quit being such dumbfucks and sign off the air. or what i would really like to see is an oprah show about people who watch oprah who are a bunch of zombies, who if they didnt have tv to talk about and the movies would probably just petrify and turn to stone. i think girls who have a lot of testosterone are supposed to be hairy and muscular and stuff, and there voices get lower and their boobs shrink and they dont have much fat. i dont have much fat but thats from cross country, and nothing else is like me. i look plenty like a girl and my voice is high and im not muscular at all especially my arms although i wish they were and i hardly have any hair except on my head. my hips arent very wide but shit im 14 and at least i have boobs which arent huge or even big but they arent tiny either. mom doesnt realize how mean it is to say your own daughter isnt pretty or nice which is practically what she is saying. she didnt really say i was a bitch, i just wrote that, but to show me that article was pretty shitty in the first place. she must not remember much about being my age, but she probably doesnt remember much about anything shes so zonked from her life at 0 degrees Kelvin, with oprah and prozac and gin and what would jesus do. jesus would turn over the kitchen table and put his foot through the tv and slap the shit out of her and tell her to wake the fuck up. he did stuff like that occasionally July 23 This writing style is wearing on me. When I read it it doesnt seem so clever anymore. I really hate the little i's. I guess because they make me think of e e cummings and remind me that I just ripped him off on that one. I still want to be like Virginia Woolf. I need to work on my sentence flow: the ups and downs, the undulations, the music. See, that last sentence was kind of cool. I think that is the first time I have said cool in this journal. That is practically the only stupid word I havent way overused. In that last sentence practically is a stupid word and way is a stupid word. But see how it bogs me down to have to notice all this stuff. Like stuff. And no question mark. To write and edit at the same time you have to almost have two brains working simultaneously. Either that or go back and change a lot of stuff and in a journal who wants to do that. Its in my computer so it wouldnt be that hard but I still dont see doing it. In the time it takes to turn all this into stardard english I have wasted all my entries for august and september and october probably. July 24 I think I have to just try to get a little better each time. And maybe notice stuff thats wrong but not correct it just do it different tomorrow hopefully, yah right July 25 I keep forgetting to talk about sex. OK, Ill talk about it: Im not having any. Since I have nothing to say I am going to leave this and write a book report for practice July 26 Here is a smarticon I made up when I was emailing stuff to Di. (::::::::::::::l:::::::::::::) What is it Creeper? Can you guess. I will tell you tomorrow. Meow! July 27 It is a fat man who got his ass staple-gunned. July 28 Oh kitty kitty do I have news for you! (I say kitty like Anne Frank, but Anne was addressing her diary, I am addressing my "kitty"). I will spell it for you kitty: E L I O T !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I saw him at that laundrymat again finally. I walked in while he was putting his clothes in the dryer because I didnt want to walk in while he was sitting down by the window and he might think I had seen him. So I pretended not to see him and just went over to the phone and like dialled my own number except not the last digit and the phone takes a while to figure out whats going on so I had time to check him out. And then he saw me but not while i was looking at him, and then I pretended to just notice him looking at me and I acted surprised and then smiled. And then the damn phone started going AAH AAH AAH in my ear real loud but I dont think he heard it because he was all the way across the place. So I jammed down the little silver deally thing and dialled some more numbers but less than seven and then I started talking like there was another person on the end of the line. I just made up a phony conversation which was easy to do since all my conversations are pretty much phony and then I wound it down and said bye real loud. I walked over there feeling all funny like practically sick. I wasn't sure I could speak and for a minute I thought I might just walk out the door because I couldn't handle it, but then Eliot goes 'hey Mary.' And I go 'hi.' Thats all. Hi, like Im all the sudden shy even though Mom thinks Im the most aggressive girl in the world, testosterone pouring down my legs. So anyway Eliot goes 'You use that phone a lot, huh? No cell?' And I go, 'No,' thinking hes going to say why dont you use mine and it will be difficult because then I will have to tell him I hate them (if I am honest) or pretend I like them just because I like him (which is phony but I probably would have done it). But he goes 'Me neither, I hate those damn things.' And then I smiled real big, like an idiot Im sure, and said 'Me, too!' And then I said 'I read that they give you brain tumors.' And he said 'Yeah, and plus there really rude. And I hate it when they ring all the time. Them and those car alarms always beeping.' And so we talked about that and about a million things just while his clothes were drying. They were all dry in what seemed like about five minutes while we were talking, but it must have been 30 minutes at least. And then I thought I was going to lose him again and I thought I was going to have to ask him for his number or like give him mine for some reason, like make up something real fast, like if he knew anyone who needed a babysitter, he should give them my number, and then give it to him, thats really what I was going to do, but then while I was thinking that up he goes, 'I was just going to stop at Charlie's (cafe) on the way home and have a cup of coffee and read the paper, but I dont really feel like reading tonight and I wondered if maybe you'd like to come... you know go too.' And my hands were now like ice cold and trembling but I had them in my pockets so he wouldn't see, but I said 'Sure,' real cool like I hung out at Charlie's all night no problem. The thing is it was about 11 and I was supposed to be home pretty soon. I'd already been out for hours just looking around doing nothing, talking to Lisa mainly who was working at 7/11. But I got this idea to call Amy from Charlies and tell her that my Mom was going to call her in about five minutes and she should say I was there spending the night, and that she should tell my Mom 'sorry, I (Amy) was just in the bathroom.' And Amy goes 'What?' And I said just say it and I'll explain later. So I call home and tell Mom I am at Amys spending the night, and Mom like I knew she would because she wouldnt trust anyone says 'OK, put Amy on for a minute I want to ask her something about Mrs. Williams (Amys Mom). So I go 'OK' real casual, and then I yell 'Amy! Amy!' with my hand over the mouthpiece just like I would if I was there. And then I go, 'She's in the bathroom, she'll call you in just a sec.' And my Mom, totally suspicious, goes 'Thats alright, Ill call back in a couple of minutes.' Like she thinks we're not really there, right? But then when she calls, Amy says she was in the bathroom and that seems like proof, even though its proof of nothing except that my Mom is suspicious and stupid. So after I make those calls I go back to the table and Eliot is drinking coffee and he ordered me one too and I also got a scone. And I say, 'Dont you need to fold your clothes so they dont get all wrinkled?' And he goes, 'Nah, they get all wrinkled anyway.' And I said 'you gonna iron em all?' And he goes, 'Nah, just put em on and give em a little mist. Your bodies heat will take the wrinkles right out. I have this little squirt bottle you know: much easier than ironing. And I dont care about the towels and stuff.' Guys. I said 'What about in the winter, don't you get cold with misty clothes on?' And he goes, 'Your only cold for about a minute. They dry fast. The body is quite hot you know.' And Im like, it sure is. And then I asked him if he usually read the newspaper at night. And he said he only got up at about 1 in the afternooon and he didnt take the newspaper because he hated all the trash it generated, but sometimes he wanted to see the sports page, for Wimbledon or something, so he would get it at a coffeeshop where people just left it laying around from during the day. And Im like, 1 o'clock? when do you go to sleep? And he's like, 4 or 5, I guess. I thought maybe he played in a band, but he turned out to be an artist. He liked to paint at night because it is quiet. He said it started at Mt. Spencer (this cool college in the east) in the summers, when he didnt have air conditioning and if he tried to work on drawings during the day he would drip sweat into them and they would get ruined. So he had to work at night. Then he just got on that schedule. He said he liked it although it made him kind of a recluse. Anyway we talked a lot more and I told him I was at Windwood. I didn't tell him I was like going into 10th. If he wanted to think I was a senoir, well OK. Luckily he didnt ask. I told him I wanted to maybe be a writer and we talked about writing. He said he wrote a little poetry but probably no one would like it but him. He asked what I wrote and I said 'Oh, just stories.' And he said 'What about.' And I said, 'Just general things, what people think about, weird stuff, my thoughts, sex....' And as soon as I said it Im like, why did I say that, I didn't mean to say that, I was trying to hide just that. Sex. Like I know anything about sex to write about it. And I cant tell him about this journal, which is really about all I do write. And it is about sex but I dont want to talk about it or show it to him or even have anybody know it exists. And so he says, without a pause, 'What about sex?' So now I am caught. I just kind of get real shy and say, 'I dont mean sex. I just mean, you know, things about sex, like issues.' So he just looks at me for a second. And he goes, 'Issues.' I mean he's not laughing at me or trying to make me uncomfortable. He's still looking at me like he really likes the way I look, like he's pulling for me or something. And I don't really break down or anything, I just kind of frown and go, 'I dont write about sex, really. I dont know anything about sex.' And he says, 'You dont.' Pause. Pause. Pause 'Do you want to?' And of course my heart is about to blow up in his face and Im thinking 'Ill die, Ill die, Ill die!' but I just say OK, kind of too loud. And he laughs a little laugh and goes, 'Actually a more appropriate answer would have been yes, but OK works. I didnt really ask if you wanted to have sex yet, I asked if you wanted to know about sex. It could have been just an impersonal question. But your right it wasnt just a question like that, you probably did read it right, so the flirting is pretty much done and my bluff has been called.' Then he just sat there for a little while looking at me. I dont think he could figure out what to do. He seemed probably more confused than me. And thats a lot. Finally he said, lets get out of here, and he paid and we walked out to his car. He stood there thinking for a minute, not looking at me, and I was starting to think he was kind of weird, but then he said, 'Here's what we'll do, Mary. Come back to my place for a little while, I mean if you want to, and we'll just hang out. See how it goes. The thing is I need a little more time, you know. To see if I can trust you. I mean you seem really nice and your about as beautiful as hell, but... anyway.' I thought this was the craziest thing I ever heard. A guy wants more time? He has to trust me? Are my ears on backwards? And then I remembered of course he has to trust me. Im risky. Im an underage girl. All I have to do is change my mind or tell and hes cooked. Then I started to think what am I getting into. Is he always going to be this distant, this calculating? But since I called Amy already I had a free night. I ought to at least let it ride. See what happens at his place. Im so tired from writing for hours I have to go to sleep. Ill tell you the rest tomorrow night kitty. July 29 Poor kitty. You must be dying to know how it turned out, after that mean old cliff hanger. See, thats what I mean. I didnt plan that it just happened. And of course this is great literature. But you were there kitty, since you are my kitty, so you know what happened! We went back to his house which was about two blocks away, we could have just walked. He said he would have walked except he had all his clothes and stuff. His car was pretty old and little, like a toyota or something. His house was small too but at least he didnt share. There were paintings and stuff all over the place but Ill tell about that later. I didnt really get a chance to look at them close anyway because we were busy. It smelled like paint, too. He said it was probably turpentine not paint but whatever. It wasnt sickass stinky like when they paint a room at school or something and then you practically get a headache. It smelled kind of good like gasoline good except not that strong and sweeter. It didnt bother me too much. He put on some music, old stuff like Sting and Eddie Vedder. He didnt offer me a joint I dont think he smokes at all. We sat on the floor on this really cool rug and he asked me which poets I liked and I dont really like poetry much but I said Plath and Christina Rossetti. I told him I liked the Goblin Men. He showed me a poem about blackbirds. It was in the Norton anthology but I dont remember the guy. And then that one by Gerard Manley Hopkins about Margaret that he liked and then he gave me one of his own. This is it (no title) My last love slept on a blue pad in a sea of books I moved them off rustling in their jealous stacks to make room for me They waited like shorebirds for the wave to pass I didnt know what to say when he gave it to me. It seemed kind of personal for someone I just met. Maybe he was trying to tell me something. I said 'Your not a virgin I guess, hunh?' He said, 'No. (pause) You are?' I said 'Yah.' He said 'Thats good.' I said 'It is?' He said 'I mean its nice to be a virgin.' I said 'It is?' He said 'I mean for you. You arent jaded. You arent mad at anyone.' I said 'Im mad at everyone. Because Im a virgin.' He laughed. I said 'Your kind of gloomy.' He said 'Yah, Ill get over it.' I said 'When.' He said 'I dont know. When you come over here I guess.' I said 'Come over where.' 'Right here,' he said, pointing right beside him. I thought he was kind of dorky but pretty cute. If he wasnt so cute he'd be really dorky. At least he was a really good kisser, even better than DiDi. Way better. His whiskers were kind of prickly but I think I liked them. He had this pretty short goatee thing. Mostly it was blond and soft but one or two hairs stuck straight out and they were pokey. His hands were really soft too and gentle, I guess because hes an artist. He has these sideburns too which are kind of curly. I played with them. Ive never really seen sideburns up close. His ears are weird: they dont curl around on the end much and he said thats because he was a preemie and your ears are the last things that form in the womb. I never heard that before. We got naked and everything. He's gorgeous! God, I was practically slobbering. Down there he's bigger than Bryan Morris but not as big as a pornstar. It makes me a little bit worried. But its really pretty. He was really happy once I got naked too. He wasnt gloomy at all anymore. Im such good medicine! The only thing is we couldnt go all the way (AAGH!) because he doesnt do condoms and of course I dont have anything. He said he hates condoms, its like petting with a glove on. He said he wouldnt do it with a condom. I said, thats alright Im not crazy about plastic either. I could have killed him is all, but I was trying to be nice. He said I should get a diaphagm. I reminded him that was plastic too. He said, I know but at least it doesnt fit over your nerve endings, so you cant feel good. He said you know how when if you get a backrub, like if your Mom or something is giving you a backrub and she wont reach under your shirt but only rubs through the shirt, it can be annoying, because it could feel good, but it doesnt, really. Thats how it is. I said, Oh. His stories are kind of loony. Then he said theres the pill but your too young for the pill and he hates the pill anyway. And I said I didnt want to go on the pill. I told him I dont even do tylenol. And he said I dont blame you. He said thats why I hardly have sex anymore its too difficult. He said, you get tired of oral sex. I said I wasnt tired of it. He laughed. So we did that for a while and we were pretty happy but not totally happy. I mean I felt like I learned a new trick, but I was still a virgin. July 30 I didnt talk to eliot today because he cant call in case my Mom answers. I called about five times but he wasnt there. He doesnt have an answering machine. He has a computer but not a modem so I cant Email him. He doesnt even have a TV! August 1 Me and Amy and DiDi and Lisa went to the mall and these guys came up to us outside Crew and started saying all this stupid stuff. One of them, Didi kept talking to him and this other guy said the same thing to me about twenty times. They acted like such shits. This guy that was talking to me, he had the pants like hanging from his balls and pimples and chewing gum smack smack smack like he was real cool right. He said I had a nice ass, lady. Lady. Like Im a lady. What a total bubster. I said how would you know. He goes, cause with that dress (skirt) your practically naked, not like Im complaining. And Im like memorize all you can cause it'll have to last you for the rest of the year. And he said other stuff but I put him down so bad he got all mad and left. August 2 I finally saw Eliot again. I went over there from about 8-10. He said he missed me. He said I could always leave messages on his door. I havent gone to the clinic and he still didnt get any condoms so we just did the same thing. Im still not tired of it. Im getting better fast so I dont think he is either. August 3 I just talked to Eliot. He asked if I was going to the clinic. I said yes. I hate doctors. And I dont want to put things up in me. I mean not diaphragms. Its gross. August 8 I went to the clinic today. It was easy except that the diaphragms are nasty. You have to use this gell that smells totally icky and you get it all over your fingers and it kind of makes them a little numb, even after you wash it off. Yuck. I hope its worth it. They gave me the smallest size. I didnt tell them Eliot was big. The nurse said with sex it was one size fits all, but they always say that with hats too and they never fit. August 9 We tested the little pucky last night. Its more like a big contact lens, like for a blind elephant. 20/20 vision and no baby dumbos! Witty deluxe. It started out kind of bad because I had to go in the bathroom and put it in (Eliot said I should have put it in before I came over, but I dont like the idea of walking around with it in. Besides that gel is nasty and I dont think he wants to taste it.) It hurt at first, but Eliot was nice and after a few minutes it felt only good. He didnt take too long but he said we should start kind of slow. If we did too much the first night I would be sore. I think Im going to be sore anyway. There was a little blood and I was very surprised because I thought with my tampons there was no hymen anymore. Eliot forgot and had white sheets on and they probably got ruined. At least maybe that means he doesnt know too much about virgins, which is good. It felt good but the most exciting part was when he came. I was too nervous to really concentrate. August 10 Eliot said I had beautiful eyes. He also likes my belly a lot. I dont know why. He said he was glad I didnt shave down there or anything. I dont need to really for my bikini and I hate doing stuff anyway unless I have to. Amy thinks Im gross for only showering about twice a week and never putting on makeup except like a dot of blemish cover when I have a red one. I dont even shave my legs yet (I would if I had thick black hair like Lisa, but nobody can see mine, hardly). Eliot says I should let my pits grow but I dont know. Thats like the darkest hair on my body darker than my pubes even. Eliot says it wouldnt be if I let it get long. But then I dont think I could wear sleeveless stuff which is all I wear. I dont even think they would let you go to school with hairy pits showing. I wish I could sleep over there. August 11 I think Mom is already suspicious. Dad wouldnt notice if I came home with no legs and a donkeys head, but Mom asked me where Id been and I had to make something up fast which I dont think she bought. I told her I was at the library til nine and then talking to a friend outside it for a while who gave me a ride home. She said what friend. I said you dont know her just some girl from school. And she goes, she doesnt have a name. And I yelled Tiffany. Tiffany Patterson. 484-7787. Luckily I had talked to Tiffany that day at the library, but not at 9. At 6:30 just before I dropped by Eliots August 12 I dont think Mom called Tiffany or else she didnt ask her about the time because everything was kosher bosher today. Eliot had to go to California to see his parents so Im with Amy and DiDi a lot. They dont know about Eliot. DiDi would probably blab just by accident and Amy will get jealous. They were all ready for a slumber party but I cant do that anymore. I mean I could but I dont really want to right now. I cant explain it. They were kind of mad I think. I may have to tell them something or come up with some story. Im the biggest liar of all time. And I hardly ever feel bad about it. People always want to know things they have no right to ask so you have to lie. August 13 School starts in two weeks and I have never dreaded something so much. I wont get to see Eliot as much because of homework and other crap. And then Ill have to be a sophomore and be in a school of a bunch of older freaks and idiots who think there the shit. And we have to just sit on our ass all day and be bored to death. I dont think I can handle it. I'll be taking geometry and algebra 2 and english and french 2 and cross country and biology. And Mom bought me this PSAT book and she wants me to take it this year to practice or whatever. And there's this IQ test which Im dreading but at least you dont study for that although half the kids probably will. August 16 Mom said she would get us Backstreet Boys tickets if we wanted and I was like what? Those guys are bubsters deluxe for eight year olds. I told her to go see the backdoor boys her own self. Not really. But I think thats what it is, she probably has it for Kevin or Kookie or Little Randy or Bubster Bob or whoever. August 17 I beat Kristin Lindstrom in the finals. She wouldnt even shake my hand. Her Mom yelled at her. My parents werent even there of course. Mom was probably watching Sally Jessy. Very Important. The trophy was like two inches tall and the tennis racket keeps falling off. We had to play five matches today. I played 12 sets, just so all the old ladies can have every court again tomorrow. Kristin might have beat me but shes a cow. She could hardly move by then. Even with my cross country legs I was practically crawling. August 18 I could barely get out of bed this morning. My legs were like firedogs (now theres a word). I hobbled over to Eliots at about noon and woke him up and made him give me a leg massage. Then I paid him back. We stopped using the diaphragm about a week ago. He was hitting it when he went all the way in, and I hated it anyway. He pulls just about every time except when its my period or right after. And Im still doing my charts although there still not even. We dont have sex at all (we do other stuff) in the middle of the chart, like week two and three. If I knew what I was doing we would only have to stop for about four or five days, but I don't. I take my temperature like religion but I still dont check my cervix or my fluid except sometimes around when I think ovulation is to see if I notice anything. Eliot helps me. I know he sounds like a shit but he doesnt want me to get pregnant because then hes cooked. Its all a big pain in the ass, but its better than being a virgin. And its the same for older girls. Older girls are supposed to be more responsible (gag) but I think it depends on the girl. Some girls can do stuff, like take pills or keep charts and others cant. Older girls make mistakes all the time, that is no reason young girls should all have to be virgins. I mean its not fair. Its age-ist! August 20 Eliot says he wishes he could kidnap me and we could go to Mexico or Guatemala. He says Im so smart I should graduate early and get the hell out of school. I mean go to college if I want to but drop this grade school shit. I dont know if Im that smart and I know my parents wouldnt go for it. If I got a scholarship to Stanford maybe. But who wants to be under that pressure at 16 or 17? And would Eliot go where I went? He said sure, he can starve anywhere, it doesnt matter. August 21 I forgot to tell you about Eliots art. He thinks I dont like it because I dont make a big deal out of it, asking him questions and talking about it. I guess Im just not really into art. He said what about Waterhouse. I liked the Lady of Shalott didnt I? And I didnt know what to say. I think he wants to be like that, you know, paint people. And hes good, just not that good yet. He sells some stuff. One or two of his drawings I really like and I told him. At least he doesnt do sharks in tanks and like piles of turds. August 25 Even Eliot thinks I have a big mouth. He cant believe the stuff I say. And I dont talk like in this journal at all. I think if I let myself talk like I write Id probably be put in some big brick building, like that lady Frances Farmer who Jessica Lange played. But sometimes Im so happy with Eliot I just start talking a lot, trying to be witty because I think its fun, and he doesnt mind it but you can tell it wears him out. If he didnt think I was cute hed probably ditch my ass. August 26 Eliot says I should be a comedienne, like Ellen Degeneres or something. I get nervous in front of people though. I never even took drama because you have to act and I dont think I could do it. i mean I can memorize the lines and act right and even expressive but I dont like feeling sick before, like practically throwing up. He says you get over it, but I read somewhere all these famous actors and singers who said they still get sick. It doesnt sound like too much fun. Like my dad, the only thing he ever talks about, like is interested in, is he was almost a professional golfer, and he watches that shit on TV constantly. The golf channel is his life. Me and Mom joke about it and he doesnt care. You can tell he wishes he was out there, all famous, whuppin up on Tiger Woods ass, but then I think dad! you would have had to travel to a different golf course every week and play golf every day with the same guys who talk about golf 24/7. And the most interesting thing you do is get out of sand close to a hole or hit a ball about 500 yards. Who cares. Get a life. Why do we pay guys millions to hit little white balls. Its insane. Like totally patho. Anyway thats kind of how I feel about comedy. Its fun but not really that important. Eliot goes, is writing that important, and I said your just playing devils advocate so shut up. August 28 School started today. It was so lame. We had a pep rally on the first day of school!? They want to be sure we know who the bigshot football players are so we can give them blowjobs in the hall I guess. We had to learn the stinking school song and the fight song (written by Neil Diamond, I think). God. We have some kind of sex lecture tomorrow in the auditorium, where they will tell us to just say no, no means no, 1 out of 3 is raped, has aids, gets pregnant, forgets to flush, pees in the bushes, blah, blah. On the announcements they have the last years junior class officers telling you stuff instead of the principal, like there your friends, instead of just a bunch of papermache dorks, reading from notes. August 29 I told Eliot about school, how much it sucks, and hes like stay calm. And he starts kissing me because he thinks thats the only thing that will keep me from going ballistic nuts. And I was mad at first because he wont listen, but later I thought hes right. I told him I was trying to talk to him and he does his little yoda voice, "there is no try. Try not. Do or do not." Hes loony. He says I should think of something to do. And Im like, OK, lets see, I can smile and just say no and take a lot of mind altering drugs, or run away and join Margaret at the Las Vegas McDonalds or... Eliot says I should just ignore it all and do the work as much as I can, since I can make grades without working too hard, and write my stories, or whatever I want. Take earplugs and a laptop to the pep rally and sit at the back. Then he said, what about correspondence courses? I told him I would look into it. September 7 I miss Eliot when I am at school. God if I could just be 18 and out of here. And legal. We had to take that stinking IQ test today, which took like three periods. It was like one of these things is not like the other, one of these things is different, lah, lah.... Im sure it will tell everyone that they are geniuses, because everyone is equal and everyone is valued and I learned everything important in kindergarten, Oi! I thought they didnt do that sort of stuff anymore, like IQ tests. Supposedly this isnt an IQ test. They call it something else, but I think thats what it is. A baby IQ test. Also, they actually have a not for credit class where you can go study for the PSAT. No way. Not gonna do it. Wouldnt be prudent.
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