Freewrite Entries Week 5

Entry 1: i barely wrote a word of this draft in real life as almost all the phrases come from notes i've picked up from various sidewalks... but obviously i put this together. this is just the first draft but i think i want to keep working with it because the notes i find are just straight wild.

Sidewalk Wisdom - 12.14.2009

dedicated to jeff, whoever and wherever he is.

Friday nights in June he drinks brandy in a shitty bar with 2 hot
girls(not urgent to hook)from the office and writes his sidewalk
manifesto in red pen on a post card with his interview smile
electric and believable. Tell me everything. The wooden desk
the window sil, bipartite, psychosexuals, sadism, masochism,
american birth control league, Jesus/Hebrews/SEXT!, balloons
and androgyny squashed in chinese boxes carried by chicken pox
prostitutes. Sex is just night crawling through underground
parking ramps people start coming out of before they go in.
She believes in absolutes or none, the breaking of God's rules,
spirit opposing flesh or rejecting it, I'm allergic to Alexander
Fleming in 1929 and animals forced to inhale smoke and arsenic
for months, years even. These ordinary people will obey white-
coated monkeys in a fake test of questions and answers, obey
the animals. they cook until death- dogs and rabbits, kittens
in heating chambers. Project X factor, shock (LD50%). Jeff marks
a check for feeling good from the light buzz of micro-brew, MIMDS,
an afterthought etched in pencil writing at this noisy rock show.
This is what you leave us with, your final words like Jesus cried
at the crucifixion, your plea to not be left alone, left for
hipsters (clothed), beards (fat), not fat, not bald, contacts:
"Go Home, Smoke a Bowl, Walk Around, and Explore."

Entry 2: My Love Song to Jenna
She looked like me, you know. Sometime
before some doctor sculpted a miracle
of two new worlds of silicone and borrowed
flesh on her upper half, sometime before
she had sex with men- when they still
had sex with her, sometime when she was
still just another girl next door, before
she found her bad side in a tattoo parlor,
before she was branded with Heartbreaker,
sometime before she got letters from
devils who don't know her like I do-
perverted ministers and dedicated tithers
who pay to watch her as much as to feed
the hungry. Sometime before she gave
herself power through her own fingertips,
or gave her first blow-job, or gave birth
to a baby boy - she was just like me.
Before the slut and slander, she cried,
like me, in a middle school stall because
her mom left and she needed her first
tampon. Before she taught me to take
off my clothes, hold back tears if it hurts,
before she taught me to make love,
with caution, she was just like me-
a good girl. Or something like that.