One of my favorite CDs from the 90s is "Bang", by World Party.
"Here's a list of things that one day you won't know you miss. Naked in the river. Watching planets as they kiss. Surfers in the sunlight. Dances on the sea. Nothing on your mind, spirit so free. I just don't want to see you give it all away."
How often do we give it all away? Years pass. Opportunities are lost. People find themselves trapped in the cycles they, themselves, create. Eventually, problems multiply. For some, the weight of it all becomes too much.
Bang: Four letters, but oh how powerful when they're put in that order.
I've started a writing group. We write short short pieces of fiction based on simple prompts.
Our first meeting was just supposed to be a quick meet and greet sort of thing where we'd get our first writing prompt. And then, we'd meet again in two weeks to share the stories we wrote.
One person brought a great story he'd written, and it was read aloud for the group. This left the rest of us regretting not having brought a story too, so, we did some free writing which we then shared.
The women who suggested free writing also suggested a theme: "I'm Leaving Now."
The following is what I wrote that night. I have no idea what inspired it, other than the theme, a name, and a deadline. "OK! we have five minutes to write, starting... NOW!"
I'll apologize for this one in advance. It's dark.
I hate my name. I always have.
Who names a child June? I've asked my mother this many times but never got a sufficient answer. "It was the summer of love" she'd say. "Someday, you'll understand."
What I understand is math. I was born in October, which means I obviously wasn't conceived in the summer and certainly not in June.
"What's your favorite month, mom?" I ask, knowing what her answer will be.
"June, of course."
That's how she always replies even though history proves her wrong.
Father killed himself in June.
Mom couldn't afford the mortgage on our house. We lost it in June.
Grampa got diagnosed with cancer in June.
He suffered for two long years before he finally died in June.
Uncle Tom, who wasn't even my fucking uncle, raped both of us in June.
Mom lost her job at the hospital due to shaky hands in June.
She didn't qualify for disability, so we lost our apartment. We bounced from place to place until we finally became homeless in June.
Even when you don't have a place to live, you still have to eat. The first time I ever slept with a man for money was in June.
When my brother turned 18, he joined the army so he could get away from it all. He got killed in Afghanistan in June.
Mom lost her mind in June. Every June.
I am June.
I hate my name.
Today is May 31st. I could wait another day and do this right, but why bother?
I'm leaving now.
wow.::::: | October 23, 2009 4:58 PM
sweet =)::::: | October 27, 2009 8:25 AM