Status: updates when inspiration and free time collide.
The Quiet of Compazine
Not Really Here, Really Not There.
I liked to come to Barnes and Noble a lot. Books a Million was just lame, and Borders shouldn’t even be considered a book store. I was always at the Barnes and Noble in the Tempe Town Center, reading any and all books I had the time to read. They knew me by name here already.
When I was younger, I used to come here and read Sara Dessen stuff, among other teenage type material like that. I loved her books. And then I grew the fuck up.
I never bought books. I made sure never to bring my card with me when I went to Barnes & Noble. Otherwise, I’d be broke in five minutes flat. I kind of profoundly love books and reading.
“G’morning, Porter.”
“Good morning, Henry,” I greeted the barista with a nod, picking up my usual chai latte and paying with cash before walking over to my reading corner…only to find it occupied by a bunch of boys.
“Holy crap! I can’t believe we’re on the cover again!” The boy that looked like a girl exclaimed.
“My Adam’s apple looks so awkward,” the boy next to the girly boy complained.
“Why did they photoshop the hell out of your face, Kenny?” the tall boy in Ray Bans asked with a laugh.
“They were photoshopped to look like real paintings…duh,” the lone ginger of the group pointed out.
The one sitting between the ginger and the giraffe stood up. “I’m gonna buy it.”
And with that, the five of them were off to the registers. Thank god. I sat down at the table, sweeping crumbs off it, before placing my drink down on it and plopping the book down beside it. I was very excited to start reading this Jean Paul Sartre stuff, even though Kierkegaard was my favorite. I was about the first chapter in when I was so rudely interrupted by none other than the giraffe. “Hi, excuse me, but you wouldn’t mind getting up, would you?”
I put down my chai latte after taking a sip. “Um. Yes, I would.”
“Sorry, but I just, I think I left something here, and I need to find it…”
I quietly sighed, but got up and stepped away from the table as he searched all around it. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for so I can help you find it?” I asked politely. And help you get the hell out of here already? I added in my mind.
“Um…” the boy straightened to his full height, scratching the back of his head. “Never mind…sorry to have bothered you, miss,” he said rather dejectedly, almost making me feel bad. Key word – almost. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.
I sat back down with my chai latte and lovely book when he left, but I noticed a napkin stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I grimaced, but gingerly peeled it off and was about to toss it in the trash can…except I saw some writing on it. Despite how disgusting the napkin was, I put it on the table and flattened it out so I could read the words written on it.
The words, despite the terrible penmanship, were so…so… I couldn’t get over how I couldn’t even describe them. So simple, so deep, so true. Such a gem. I had to sit back and soak in the words for a few minute. I wasn’t a fan of poetry, but, kudos to this poet, because he was changing my mind.
This couldn’t have been what the boy was looking for... Well, you know what they say – finders keepers.
I took out my iPhone and got onto the free WiFi before typing it all in and Googling it.
… Google must be broken. It came up with “No Results Found.”
I pocketed the precious poem with a sigh.
When I was younger, I used to come here and read Sara Dessen stuff, among other teenage type material like that. I loved her books. And then I grew the fuck up.
I never bought books. I made sure never to bring my card with me when I went to Barnes & Noble. Otherwise, I’d be broke in five minutes flat. I kind of profoundly love books and reading.
“G’morning, Porter.”
“Good morning, Henry,” I greeted the barista with a nod, picking up my usual chai latte and paying with cash before walking over to my reading corner…only to find it occupied by a bunch of boys.
“Holy crap! I can’t believe we’re on the cover again!” The boy that looked like a girl exclaimed.
“My Adam’s apple looks so awkward,” the boy next to the girly boy complained.
“Why did they photoshop the hell out of your face, Kenny?” the tall boy in Ray Bans asked with a laugh.
“They were photoshopped to look like real paintings…duh,” the lone ginger of the group pointed out.
The one sitting between the ginger and the giraffe stood up. “I’m gonna buy it.”
And with that, the five of them were off to the registers. Thank god. I sat down at the table, sweeping crumbs off it, before placing my drink down on it and plopping the book down beside it. I was very excited to start reading this Jean Paul Sartre stuff, even though Kierkegaard was my favorite. I was about the first chapter in when I was so rudely interrupted by none other than the giraffe. “Hi, excuse me, but you wouldn’t mind getting up, would you?”
I put down my chai latte after taking a sip. “Um. Yes, I would.”
“Sorry, but I just, I think I left something here, and I need to find it…”
I quietly sighed, but got up and stepped away from the table as he searched all around it. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re looking for so I can help you find it?” I asked politely. And help you get the hell out of here already? I added in my mind.
“Um…” the boy straightened to his full height, scratching the back of his head. “Never mind…sorry to have bothered you, miss,” he said rather dejectedly, almost making me feel bad. Key word – almost. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked away.
I sat back down with my chai latte and lovely book when he left, but I noticed a napkin stuck to the bottom of my shoe. I grimaced, but gingerly peeled it off and was about to toss it in the trash can…except I saw some writing on it. Despite how disgusting the napkin was, I put it on the table and flattened it out so I could read the words written on it.
The words, despite the terrible penmanship, were so…so… I couldn’t get over how I couldn’t even describe them. So simple, so deep, so true. Such a gem. I had to sit back and soak in the words for a few minute. I wasn’t a fan of poetry, but, kudos to this poet, because he was changing my mind.
This couldn’t have been what the boy was looking for... Well, you know what they say – finders keepers.
SOFT SKIN.
I am alone.
Not because I am lost, but because I am found.
I am raw.
Not because of the noise, but because of the sound.
I will live.
To stand in the front, not sit behind.
I will die.
And carve out my name in the soft skin of time.
I am alone.
Not because I am lost, but because I am found.
I am raw.
Not because of the noise, but because of the sound.
I will live.
To stand in the front, not sit behind.
I will die.
And carve out my name in the soft skin of time.
I took out my iPhone and got onto the free WiFi before typing it all in and Googling it.
… Google must be broken. It came up with “No Results Found.”
I pocketed the precious poem with a sigh.
