May 10, 2007


We were talking social as if we had not already hung out for hours the previous day and caughten up on all existing topics, JR and I. He took a smoke break and I breaked with him and did the smoking for him. Outside it was 80 and almost 10 pm and everyone young was skateboarding and biking and tubetopping and staring each other out, a loose mob up and down the sidewalks to the bike-in movies and bars and nouveau emo discos, all that The Crotch profers. We were talking about exercise (to be exact) when a girl swang forward, and excitedly announced it was her birthday, "Thirteetooo" came out of her mouth like a slurp; she was drunk. "I am going to come in soon and buy all the books I want." She named some authors I didn't know. Her boyf., perhaps a wildly anemic 24, poofs in from the ether, and as she wreaths her arms around him, he adds: " And P.G. Wodehouse, too!" Whooda thunk it--the pale kid with the crustache is a Jeeves enthusiast.

Also seen: Tonight was the poetry slam of the at risk youths (heavy business), with it's many poems by mostly teen moms whose writing was about being sad but sturdy under the weight of motherhood, they read with babies on jutted hips or toddlers bing-bonging teeny heads into the back of their legs. After that, there was a DJ, for a quick 15 minutes before everyone had to get back on school busses and bus back; the girls danced and the toddlers waddled. And then as the sub-bass intro for "It's going down" went bum... bum bum, on the three, I saw a girl back it up and drop while front-strapped with a Baby Bjorn with an infant in it. She moved smooth like she was floating, with one hand supporting the babies head as she dipped towards the floor. It was reverent and defiant at once, it was a beautiful thing to see.

Posted by Jessica at May 10, 2007 10:28 PM | TrackBack