the coastergirl diaries volume thirty-four

i have a scrapbook of our life together. it's trampled over tread-prints laced across it on the front burner of my mind. i can't escape it. mad dreams. one tear into an ocean of those already let loose let fly let ravage me. i know it would be best if i could stop losing her every day. but if it wasn't that way, how could i get her every day? i choose madness for now.

coastergirl got a job at a local pasta chain store waiting tables. she'd never done that before and she needed a little money until her practicum came through. it was a good job for her. still is. she made good money, worked realtivly few hours and made friends. one of which was an old high school friend of mine i used to play chess with. (the madness of chess at carroll cannot be written withing the folds of these pages. it was a long mindful rant of thrown peices broken boards shit-talking screaming yelling, even fistfights. full contact chess. anyway, that's for another entry) this kid was one of the few worth playing. out of ten games he'd beat me one or two but it was always close until the end.

then she met army-guy. he was cool. close-minded, but cool. he refused to believe in anything not "proven by science" despite the obvciousness that science has a zero victory record for scientific proof. they never end up right. at any rate. we began to spend sopme time around him. around chess-guy, it was a new crowd.

army guy had never done any drugs before. we opted to change that and went to work hammerhead sharks on the confines of his braineatting away at all the lies he'd told himself and eventually he conceded. chess guy agreed to play me some chess. i hadn't played seriously since high school. he beat me three of the first four. i beat him the next nine. caostergirl said she loved to watch people think while playing chess their darting eyes, their moving hands fingertips rubbed together anticipating counting three moves ahead foiur ten thirty how it all plays out can be written in a simple algorithm. chess guy borrowed my copy of my name is asher lev by chaim potok and fell in love with it. then he borrowed portrait of the artist as a young man, loved it. and ten or twelve more i have yet to get back from him.

then she met jacob.

2002-11-08 | 11:05 p.m.
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