Author Archives: jeremybgg

half past the time you left

she’s lying face down on the bed well not quite face down more like face side so she can breathe while dozing but she is definitely stomach down like belly down like lying on her stomach and i’m staring at her ass

mostly i’m just concerned about what happens next when she wakes up and it’s light out and she’s sober and i’m here because i haven’t left yet and my car is somewhere fuck who knows maybe back in the parking lot at the restaurant or maybe three blocks away with the tire pushing up against the curb of the sidewalk but here i am now and i’m sober too

she sneezes in her sleep and i’ve never heard such a thing it’s so fucking cute i want to throw up and so i go into the bathroom and lean over the sink and i almost do and i almost do and i almost try for it but think better of this and splash water on my face and it drips down onto the purple bathmat and i feel like shit

she yawns and i look at myself in the mirror i look haggard and old and i don’t like my bald head and i don’t like my smudged glasses and i don’t like my flabby stomach and i make an angry face back at my angry face and i grip the sink and clench my teeth and shake my head and hate all the hate i feel back at myself

which goes away because she is beautiful and she is bare and she is sober and she is smiling and she is saying hey and i am sighing and thinking about my keys

the meeting with tom cruise.

“first, guys, let me say that i am PUMPED — just PUMPED!! — about this script. i get it, you know, i GET get it and i want to make this movie. i want US to MAKE THIS MOVIE!”

“thanks, tom, that’s really excit –“

“i just have a couple of ideas, just a few changes that i would make but they are JUST IDEAS, maybe they’re terrible, maybe i’m crazy but just HEAR ME OUT.”

“um, okay, sure, that’s –“

“my character’s name is andre but can we change that to something like, i don’t know, how about JACK? it’s not that it’s less — i don’t wanna say fruity but i guess it’s less — faggy.”

“uh, that sounds fi –“

“GREAT. Jack. i can feel it already. something GREAT is happening here, can you tell, guys, i am PUMPED! also: i think, even though it’s the future, Jack’s got a strong connection with the past.”

“yes! you’re so right, that’s exactly what we –“

“so i think he should wear a NEW YORK YANKEES HAT!”

“um. but it’s 300 years in the fu–“

“exactly, a strong connection with the past and JACK’s an ALL-AMERICAN, NORMAL kinda guy, right?”

“well there’s no america anymo –“

“RIGHT! so, this ALL-AMERICAN, NORMAL guy named JACK wears a NEW YORK YANKEES hat! and who doesn’t love that? EVERYBODY loves the NEW YORK YANKEES!”

“actually, mr. cruise, everybody hates the — “

“guys, this has been SO GREAT and i am SO PUMPED. we can hash out the details later with my people, so i’ll be in touch. i hate to split but i have to go HAVE SLAVES and PUNCH THEM.”

haiku for roscoe’s house of chicken and waffles

deep fried smothered in
rich and congealing gravy
on a waffle, obvs.

the black girls whisper
the white girls giggle and point
while i stuff my face

butter on butter
syrup on syrup on grits
STOP! says the jew’s heart

federal and wilshire and traffic

pound your head against the steering wheel, that’s the only way to be sure anyone can hear you when you’re shouting obscenities and be absolutely sure to turn the volume on the radio way way up so everyone can hear that at least rock music still works even though they’re all a bunch of assholes in their bmws and their lexii and their audis (and holy fuck the audis are the worst) but if you don’t roll down the windows and if you don’t use both hands to give the finger and if you don’t slam your foot on the pedal the second the light turns green and if you don’t breeze past a bunch of suits in sunglasses hollering “FUCK YOU SUITS IN SUNGLASSES!” as you speed by well then fellow you’re not doing it right and you probably should’ve taken the bus

french class.

when i was in high school and college, i had an irrational fear of french class. basically, it went like this: i would get very, very nervous for the hour or so leading up to french class. there was a ball of dread curled up in my stomach like a puppy in front of a fire on christmas eve. i would twitch a little bit, my bladder would become impatient, and my voice would shake.

why?

because i was 100% certain that some woman was going to ask me things in french and then expect me to answer her. and i wasn’t going to be able to do that, because i don’t speak french. then, i assumed she would get mad at me and i’d look like an idiot in front of lots of people who, supposedly, spoke french.

but then i’d get to french class and it wouldn’t be so bad. yes, a woman might ask me something in french, but if i couldn’t understand and thus respond, she wouldn’t get mad at me; most of the time, she would help me out and give me clues as to how to respond correctly. so during french class, the dread would go away and i would feel relief and life would continue on as normal.

most things are like french class.

12A

don’t cough don’t sneeze don’t breathe.

those aren’t instructions for me they’re for you because you are a pile of disease clothed in sickness wrapped in bacteria and wearing sandals. i will curl myself away from you as tight as possible as compact as can be done with this lumpy flesh of mine and i will turn away and treat every movement you make as an affront as an attack on my humanity because i can sense that you are very, very terrible.

now i’m leaning my forehead against the — what the hell is this made from anyway? — and it’s probably a thousand times germier than you but i’m not thinking rationally since you just — oh god did you you did i think you did — blew your nose in an attempt to be discreet but it wasn’t discreet it was anything but discreet it was loud and terrifying and announcement to the entire cabin HELLO BEINGS I AM VIRUS and now my eyes are shut tight and my forearm is clamped over my mouth and nose and i am leaning against the filthy and scratched — what the hell IS this made from? glass? plexiglass? omniglass? — and i am praying even though i don’t believe in god i am praying hoping pleading that we all go down in flames —

no i’m just hoping i don’t get sick from you you awful horrible miserable human you disgusting inconsiderate conflagration of grease and hair and skin and phlegm and broken.

don’t cough don’t sneeze don’t breathe.

but i can already feel the scratch in my throat.

probable (anachronistic) wfnx playlist for 11am-12pm on saturday, june 12, 1993.

trashcan sinatras / “hayfever”

buffalo tom / “i’m allowed”

ned’s atomic dustbin / “not sleeping around”

they might be giants / “ana ng”

the smiths / “bigmouth strikes again”

the sundays / “here’s where the story ends”

red hot chili peppers / “aeroplane”

porno for pyros / “tahitian moon”

belly / “gepetto”