2005-05-04
baseball
early summer late spring wandering not thinking of a thing. far away they�re playing, closer by they�re saying something I�m sure but if it is it to me I can�t be bothered. but I know there is sunlight and the grass is dirty, dirty clumps interspersed with it on the side of the hill � you know how running sneakers don�t sneak they chew up the ground running without looking, clambering, tumbling, arms windmilling everywhere. in the winter there was snow on the tall hill and though it flattened near the bottom this little rise fell again and you would lurch a little through the air when you hit it, teeth jarring together in your jaw not sure if it�s fun or not but it makes your heart pound which is better than nothing.
[I just returned from a long walk, so long my legs were numb by the time I stepped into the front door. My body wanted to keep going so I let it, figured maybe it wanted me to think about something, or maybe that chocolate bar yesterday was spurring me on. Mostly I was thinking numbers, noises, looking at things not registering, which is abnormal usually I enjoy the sights. But I walked past a field, still sunny though the day was ending, where some boys were playing baseball and I remembered this.]
so that�s me standing on that little hill there � half in half out of the shadow of the school. probably staring at the dirt, or over at the road. I�ve got my hands in my jacket pockets, and my ears are kind of cold. over in the arena that gets grown over with grass in the spring � mixed with a lot of mud � the junior high boys are playing baseball and yelling. I hear the ball get hit and for some reason I turn to look. It�s flying in my direction and I�m watching it. I can see the stitching on the ball as it soars in a silent arc and it looks surreal so big against the clouds and the bright sky � like a dirty white planet. I watch it �til I can�t see it anymore. And when I can�t see it anymore it hits me in the neck. As I stumble back, it tumbles to the ground off my shoulder and I watch it roll down in the grass. A boy whose face I can�t see is running over to me. I guess he�s just coming for the ball, but he runs to me and crouches down: �I�m sorry, are you ok? I�m really sorry!� His hand on my little red and blue jacketed shoulder. I nod. Not sure if he�s for real. He looks at me for another second. I look at the dirt. He�s up, gone, grabs the softball and I watch him run back to the game.
I rub my neck. Look over at the road. Think about the baseball in the sky.
***
In other news, the grocery store down the street now stocks 2L bottles of Diet Dr. Pepper. You can bet your ass I�m buying them weekly or more. Mmmmm. Don�t tell me what aspartame does to me.
Also, my friend made me a mix CD of all kinds of fun music I�ve never listened to. It�s great. The first song is my favorite so far: Chick Habit by April March.
***
Aaaand, I�m trying to figure out why so many girls want me to be a lesbian. THey�re not lesbians, so what�s the deal? So far, I figure it�s so their boyfriends don�t fall in love with me. But the trick�s on them. Dudes love Lesbians!
pansycline at 7:51 p.m.