in grade school we had to go to the library, or "media center" as they called it, once a week.
i like to read now, but i didn't then. at least, not when i'm talking about.
i enjoyed reading after 2nd grade or so, lots of different books. i started really reading in 5th grade probably.
i'm thinking of probably 1st grade.
i liked stories, i liked knowing things i didn't know before.
i would go to the library and be totally lost. knowing there were stories hidden there in all those pages and not knowing where to look and not knowing how to ask (i was a terrified child. i'm most probably still a terrified child).
i would check out these monster movie books. when i think back now, those books had probably been there since the school opened. books about frankenstein and the werewolf... old monster movie stills with unbelieveably big print to fill up 30 pages in between horribly stinking and abused cardboard covers.
besides those books i would get books filled with terrible jokes. little kid jokes. with garish little kid cartoons. people made into cartoons. bright and silly and happy. telling knock knock jokes.
one of those books.
it was one of those books.
i borrowed it from the library at least seven times. i don't know why i remember that.
i opened it once.
i read two terrible jokes from it. "and that was all she wrote."
see, the book terrified me. the book gave me nightmares. it scared me even to look at the cover.
it was a book filled with terrible jokes and cartoons telling each other these jokes. something was wrong with these cartoons. there was something too surreal for me, maybe for others, as well, but at that age, who would know to ask? something about those figures and their blue and orange likenesses laid an egg in my little head and it has hatched for years.
i think if i were to see it again now i would burst into tears and be sick for weeks. something scared me, something hidden in those drawings hurt me. i don't know what it is. i don't think i'll ever know.
i went back to my grade school about 5 years ago. i looked for that book. it wasn't there anymore.
i recently read a comic book that reminded me of that feeling. of that true horror. i wasn't as scared this time. but it was still very unsettling.
i think i truly enjoy the book i found this time.
thinking of the other book makes me want to kill myself.
i think there is some kind of truth contained in this.
i like to read now, but i didn't then. at least, not when i'm talking about.
i enjoyed reading after 2nd grade or so, lots of different books. i started really reading in 5th grade probably.
i'm thinking of probably 1st grade.
i liked stories, i liked knowing things i didn't know before.
i would go to the library and be totally lost. knowing there were stories hidden there in all those pages and not knowing where to look and not knowing how to ask (i was a terrified child. i'm most probably still a terrified child).
i would check out these monster movie books. when i think back now, those books had probably been there since the school opened. books about frankenstein and the werewolf... old monster movie stills with unbelieveably big print to fill up 30 pages in between horribly stinking and abused cardboard covers.
besides those books i would get books filled with terrible jokes. little kid jokes. with garish little kid cartoons. people made into cartoons. bright and silly and happy. telling knock knock jokes.
one of those books.
it was one of those books.
i borrowed it from the library at least seven times. i don't know why i remember that.
i opened it once.
i read two terrible jokes from it. "and that was all she wrote."
see, the book terrified me. the book gave me nightmares. it scared me even to look at the cover.
it was a book filled with terrible jokes and cartoons telling each other these jokes. something was wrong with these cartoons. there was something too surreal for me, maybe for others, as well, but at that age, who would know to ask? something about those figures and their blue and orange likenesses laid an egg in my little head and it has hatched for years.
i think if i were to see it again now i would burst into tears and be sick for weeks. something scared me, something hidden in those drawings hurt me. i don't know what it is. i don't think i'll ever know.
i went back to my grade school about 5 years ago. i looked for that book. it wasn't there anymore.
i recently read a comic book that reminded me of that feeling. of that true horror. i wasn't as scared this time. but it was still very unsettling.
i think i truly enjoy the book i found this time.
thinking of the other book makes me want to kill myself.
i think there is some kind of truth contained in this.
VIEW 9 of 9 COMMENTS
but never called.
pig.
zac. you're just as nutty as i am. and i am here commenting because i have an explaination for everything that doesn't make sense- including sleeping and dreaming. it's magic.
telephones are high up on my list of WHOA. i do get it- what they're trying to tell me ... i understand the fiber optics special that's on Discovery, and I listened to my teachers explain sound travel blahaddahyadda. But jesus christ almighty. A person 87894754 miles away can hear words coming out of my mouth instantly... it's invisible...traveling via wires at speeds that I can't comprehend? i'm sorry, what? that's some fucked up shit. airplanes and television are another story.
sleep scares me. waking up seemingly minutes later and having no idea what's happened in the world for the past 8 hours... i slept like a baby all day thru the 911 mayhem- had no clue the world was blowing up around me... i went to the store at 7 pm still completely clueless and no one was out. People that were out were glum and weird. it looked like the twilight zone.
i have so much more magic to bitch about... but i am late for a very important date with my bed. cross your fingers the aliens leave me the fuck alone tonight.
and you're not in love with me. you're just using me to get to my robot.