Jesse's Girl

A collection of guitar picks snuggled safely in a little box set with bone and jade. It was probably someone's cheap souvenir from a vacation to India. Who really goes to India and brings back little trinkets like this? Most people just bring back little orphaned babies... or venereal diseases. Erika couldn't remember where she'd found the box. But she liked it, and the soft purple interior became a bed for all her most treasured guitar picks. She fingered the little gold clasp, knowing the contents without having to take them out. Each one had a story. A band, a concert, an encounter. Her collection. Her prized possession.
Her guitar sat half sticking out of a closet, an embarrassing amount of dust had collected on the fret board. Erika yanked it out unceremoniously. She glanced at the fingernails on her left hand. Too long. She wouldn't have time to cut them before her friends came by, but her nails would hit the fret board if she left them long, making it impossible to show off.
She grabbed each nail with her teeth, and tore them off in ragged strips spit into the sink.
Jesse never knocked, and caught her mid-tear.
"That's gross."
"So's your face." She shoved him lightly into the other guys that trailed him into the apartment, Johnny-O, and Bender. Bender wasn't his real name, and Erika was sure he had one, but she was also sure she didn't know what it was. Bender didn't say much. Ever. He looked like Jesus, if Jesus had worn thick black rimmed glasses and lots of flannel. Bender walked straight to the fridge where Erika kept a massive stash of Dr. Pepper and Mountain Dew. He grabbed a few, and handed one to Johnny-O.
Jesse caught her in a playful headlock, and she attempted to smack him in the balls. He released her head. Jesse looked kind of like a baby lion. His mane was shaggy and tan, and his small deep-set eyes were not brown, but gold.
Johnny-O had the India pick box and was tossing it hand to hand.
"Do you still have the Decoder Ring pick in here?"
The Decoder Ring was Johnny-O's old band. He was in it with Bender and John Caliperi, a kid from their high school. But the band broke up when John C. decided to move to Corvallis for college. Lame. Erika was not much for college sports, but was raised by University of Oregon alumni. Going to Corvallis to be a beaver was basically sacrilege.
"No I burned it. It melted into a little ball of red plastic goo."
Unamused by her sarcasm, Johnny-O opened the box. The red Decoder Ring pick was there nestled between The Starting Line and a pale blue one that Erika caught at the Rx Bandits show. Erika shot a menacing glance at Johnny-O. She usually lied and said that she was drunk the night they hooked up, but everyone knew she didn't drink. It was the first time she'd ever made out with a guy who had a lip ring, and she liked messing up his long dyed black hair. It swooped in front of his left eye, a tiny patch of bleach blond peeking through. Jesse was there that night too. He'd known Erika since middle school and usually felt a kind of obligation to protect her. But that night he had his gold lion's eyes locked in on someone else, and missed Erika and Johnny-O slipping behind the enormous speakers near the stage and out of sight. The events of that night ended up a little less awkward for Jesse. Things were going well with his now current girlfriend Jane. Who names their kid Jane these days anyway? Erika snatched the pick box, setting it down on the end table. Johnny-O stared at her with his dark intense eyes. His eyes were too big to belong to a boy.
Jesse gracefully broke the tension with a swipe at Erika's guitar.
"I invited Jane over" he said as he fiddled with the tuning knobs.
Erika had seen Jane once or twice. Enough to know that her bangs were short, her waist was tiny and she couldn't be much taller than 5'. "Okay. is anyone else coming?"
"I don't know." Jesse cracked the top of a Dr. Pepper. "It's not like we're doing anything tonight are we?"
"Bender. Dude. We should show Erika that video of the time you swallowed a live goldfish." Johnny-O said as he plugged his mp3 player into Erika's sound system with his usual over exuberant violent energy. Bender shrugged with a half grin on his heavily bearded mug. Within seconds the walls of Erika's tiny one bedroom apartment vibrated with the heavy bass of Johnny-O's current fave band of the week.
"Come on Johnny-O, really?" Erika rolled her eyes at the toneless screaming that blasted through her speakers.
Johnny-O jumped on the couch, shouting defenses for his music of choice.
"What? They opened for Coheed on their last tour you know."
"Yeah I know, and that should tell you something right there. Coheed always plays with shitty bands."
Jesse flipped open his cell phone, answering a call that Erika had not heard over the racket of Johnny-O's noise.
"...last one on the left... yeah, yeah... no she's cool, you can just walk in."
She walked in.
She held a guitar case and a Crate amp and wore red shoes with white polka dots.
She said hello, and was instantly swept into a kiss by Jesse, he still clutched Erika's guitar in one arm.
It wasn't just a guitar in the case, it was a bass guitar.
Johnny-O said he thought girl bass players were hot. Erika scuffed her Chuck Taylors against the carpet and stifled a sarcastic snort. He would.
Erika grabbed her own guitar back from Jesse and sat on the floor.
"Johnny turn that off! Please?"
They played some songs. It was no big deal. Jesse was amazing. Jane was pretty good too. She picked out the bass line for Gigantic by the Pixies with a thick dark blue guitar pick. Erika sang along.
"Lovely legs they are... what a big black mess, what a hunk of love"
Her high sweet voice glided over Jane's rumbling bass. The bass vibrated Erika's ribcage, and made her toes feel slightly numb.
After a few more songs Jane got up and walked to the counter separating the kitchen from the main room of the apartment. Jesse's Dr. Pepper sat half empty on the counter. Jane grabbed it. She still had the dark blue pick in her hand. She flipped it around her fingers.
"There's a women's health rally at the capitol tomorrow." Jane said as Erika joined her, sitting on a high bar stool. "I 'm not a feminist or anything. It's for a class. But i don't know any girls really. and i don't want to go alone."
"Sure i'll go with you. What time is it at?"
Jane chewed on her lip for a second. "Early i think? like 8? I don't know. it's supposed to be about getting legislature to make insurance companies cover birth control pills or something."
"Oh cool."
Jane leaned past her to drop her empty can in the trash. The skin on her arm did not brush against Erika's cheek, but was close enough that she could feel the warmth. Close enough that the could smell the soft mintiness of her breath, and hear the muted swish of her blue-black hair.
"Here," she said as she put the pick down on the counter to grab her cell out of her back pocket. "What's your number? I'll call it, so you'll have mine in your phone too."
Erika's phone rang. Thriller by Michael Jackson.
Jane laughed. "Sweet ringtone."

The evening ended around 2 a.m. Bender was asleep on the couch, and Johnny-O farted in his face to wake him up. Erika glared at him. Gross.
Erika stood at her doorway to wave goodbye. Jesse got into Jane's white VW Jetta and Erika was forced to turn back into the house. She picked up soda cans and grabbed a towel to drag it quickly across the counter before she went to bed.
On the counter sat a thick dark blue guitar pick. A bass guitar pick. Erika picked it up and held it in her palm for a moment.
She went to the couch, opening up her small bone pick box and set it carefully at the bottom, nestled close against the purple velvet. She placed the other picks on top of it like a hundred plastic blankets, closed the box, kissed the jade circle on the lid, and went up to bed.

blogs are good because...

last night Elliot dropped my flash drive into a water bottle. a water bottle containing water.

this flash drive contained not only everything i've written for cnf this semester, but also some assorted poems, and most importantly... my ENTIRE NOVELLA.

thankfully, i found a back up of it that i emailed to myself a while back.

but blogs can't be damaged by water

Hidden Things

Perhaps i am cheating, but the only way i can get the ones i
Love to try any thing anything new is by hiding it.
Even my two year old eats butternut squash, when it swims in
A bowl of
Spongebob squarepants macaroni.
Every thursday my husband freeze frames bookshelves, searching for
Concealed numbers, and copies of
Our mutual friend, and the dark tower. and so, i slip
My affection between layers of white-chocolate
Fudge brownies, and lace pretty words between
Opinions of the phoenix suns. but what i want, what i really
Really want. is for you
To just once find
Me
Even if it takes a drop of extra effort

Why i don't write long poetry.

because no one reads it. thats why.

wish

i wish i'd written Extrordinary Machine
in, like, 1955.
i've had dreams where i traveled back in time, and just happened to have my mp3 player with me.
i would revolutionize music.
(but i'd also be a liar.)

it's like a notebook... only it lives in a computer.

Names to remember. Sailor, Boston, Ulysses.

*i bought a bag of skittles.
emptied the bag onto the table
put the colors in the right order

purple red orange yellow green

too bad there was no blue.
i ate them in even numbers
till there were exactly two of each
and gave elliot the rest.

An Apology in Haibun (with cliche)

i realize it's mostly my fault that you break eggshells with each step, and i realize i've been asking you to blame the over burdened camel instead of me. but it's ok.
i'm sorry i don't listen.
Jimmy would cry. you've been cheating on them again, (i can tell, you just called me shorty) i will tease you about it, as long as you promise to take it and make fun of Coolio in the same breath.
i'm sorry i haven't told you that you are the best thing that i've ever had for real...


soft green surfacing
in twisted mat of dead grass
when you call me boo


i didn't say how much i appreciate your patience with Elliot, with Story, (with me)... i assumed you knew that i love playing Scrabble, and hiding in Romania.
i'm sorry... i forgot.


water droplets trace
patterns of red and shadow
in stars on your skin

this is a poem

I am the best at writing poems.

Pretty much the best that I know of.

Oh wait

just a minute, just a minute

You see I can start a sentence here

and finish it here.

Love is letting go of yellow balloons in an underwater

minefield.

Death is the crayon marked “Macaroni and Cheese”

Love is bad

Love is really really bad,

Especially when the night is dark and the rain is wet.

yes, well i guess... if you're in to that sort of thing

I use words like teeth and tiresome and terse

Oh, let me rephrase that

Teeth set tersely against words words words undulating tiresome- ly

I can make ten million out of you

You see? Don’t you?