What came first? Was it the burn or the smoke? Did she sit up in bed, stare down at her nightdress for a moment, then make a ring of fire in their room? I bet her sister heard it, woke up, opened her eyes quickly to waving arms and the light of my mother, up in flames. I bet their feet were hard and asleep, toes in shock, an inch above the carpet, trying to stop, drop and roll- silhouettes writhing across the walls. The cotton began to stink, thin and disappearing from her 5-year old body, leaving black in it's wake. Or maybe, was it red? Was she all red and her sister pale when they ran to their mother's room and screamed? And she, awakening to her daughters' dance, died some, maybe? I don't know what happened behind her eyes, even though they're my eyes now too. I couldn't even say maybe.

    So now I talk to a girlfriend quickly, ending conversation before I lose it, the slow creep of inspiration that doesn't visit my room near often enough. With an "I'm at the peak of my high and I've got a great idea for a poem!", I move, smiling with teeth glowing yellow, too fast and singe my pajama pants with a piece of my cigarette. No tissues for crying, I grab what I do have, a piece of paper, and rub the orange to black, not feeling any pain.

     Not like her, when her mother called her father, begging for a ride. Hot and wet, how did she sit in the car on the way? I think, maybe, she dreamed in her fever of firefighters coming to her gymnasium and telling her things. I think she dreamed of having fixed her mother's lighter and presenting it to her the next morning, showing teeth in pride. Maybe she'd just leave it on the counter, or in a purse, hoping her selfless act would stop her parents from the yelling. I've done that too, and I think both of us have learned that our smoke signals cannot reach the noses of our mothers and fathers.

    I always asked, in the supermarket, for candles. At the end of the aisle, coloring all four tiers with Christ and Francis and Mary, they stood like an unattainable realization, Eve reaching for the apple. At fifteen, I finally got a Virgin to guard my room. One turned to twelve and I am here now, lit up and shining and begging for a pen to write about the burns that told her she needed bigger breasts when she was thirty-something, when my then-father came back from Las Vegas with sequins and skin dancing in his head. I'm writing, now, about his mother, who told me that, when I think of 'Grandma', to think of she who maybe was listening to her country music on the way to the hospital, maybe telling her daughters to sing and forget. Because, my father's mother told me on the phone, that's the only grandmother I have now, now that my parents are finishing up their yelling for good.

    Finished up myself, blowing out the candles, I wonder if it's wrong to write about my mother, 5-years old and underneath a butterfly net for two months so nothing could infect her still-tender skin. Maybe it's okay, maybe this is my inheritance- the burn and the smoke, sitting up in bed.

I waited for her there, all night to come back. Until fourteen past three, until I fell asleep to the television's mumbling lullabye. I said to myself and to her dog, "Well, she won't be back for at least another four hours", then, an hour later, "She won't be back for another three hours, at least." This didn't make the moon shift quicker, nor time in that room at the Super 8 pass any faster. The Fresh Prince still took a half hour to talk himself out of whatever pickle he'd gotten into as the paper of my cigarettes took their time at peeling away, exposing grey fate, dwindling downwards to nothing save a shaky grip.

The numbers changed slowly, growing larger with my hips, damned moon, and nothing in that room could help it. I clawed at numbers I could control, could wind down through the dreaded triple digits and help me take up less space on the queen-sized motel bed I'd have to myself, envying Sleeping Beauty. She who got to pass out one night, no aids required, and wake up with no bed-head and a boyfriend who could waltz in a world that was light, and she in it. In the bathroom mirror, squinting under artificial light, I held onto myself and wanted that, knowing from experience that it wouldn't work for me as it did for Aurora. As hard as I try, I cannot seem to trade a kiss for happiness.

I started thinking, a dangerous pastime, at noises from down the hallway, colored as any other in the northeast, wondering if it was her coming back early. Even though by seventeen I knew better, still I rushed to the spy-hole to catch full, lively, drunken conversation coming from shadows cast on the opposite wall. If I could live in the space between that Aurora of a room and the life flickering before me, I would. There, from my two-inch tunnel, I'd learn all I'd ever want to know about what could lie between two shadows, sweeter than tension and heavier than echoes, but no space at all. Not even two inches.

have so much going on, ayie!! this weekend cannot come quick enough.
(e:ladycroft): i would LOVE to attend (e:thecarey)'s birthday party. if anyone's doing the carpool thang, let me know!


also, (e:drchlorine): yr ass is grass for that picture post, my friend.

just left (e:pmt)'s. am sososo tired and headachy. tomorrow should be painful.
it was fun though.


to all the (e:peeps) still going strong: DON'T SMOKE MY CIGARETTES THAT I LEFT!!!!!!! pleasepleaseplease i'm poor and unemployed and there was like, a whole pack PLUS a lighter!!!!

oh, and david's locked out in the cold cause timika's got his keys. yeah.

have decided that all the skinny girls i've put up in my room and locker and notebooks need to go. they were there for thinspiration, but maybe if i put up a bunch of fat girls i'd feel better, haha.

will i actually do this? no. drat.

i really want a wing=-man- like a clone of myself who could take my place whenever i'm too tired to handle something. like, when i have to talk out loud in class, or when i've got to talk to my lawyer, or when i have to get out of bed and shower for school. i could just say 'hey honey, it's all you', and second-alison would be more than happy to take care of things.
of course, i'd make sure i got to be the one to eat mcdonald's french fries, smoke pot, and have orgasms. but seond-alison would be okay with that, because she'd LOVE dieting for me and having to flirt and make the small talk with men that leads to the orgasm-having.

... i would never have to give another blowjob again, if i didn't want to.

day three of my senior year, and i'onno what to say. i just want to go home. it's like, i've got all this divorce stuff on my mind and then people expect me to smile real big and be happy and do all this work and pay attention and it's frustrating. i guess i really just want to go to sleep.

tomorrow is my first day of senior year.
wish me luck??

• AL'S SECRET NOTE TO (E:PEEPS) ONLY!!!

I am scared shitless. Please don't tell anyone, or it will undo all the confidence-building that my leather jacket and stud belt will hopefully supply.

gah. this is going to be another angsty post. y'all have been warned.

and so the dreaded divorce continues. my family is freaking out about my decision to go with my mother. a lot of people from my dad's side aren't speaking to me now. my grandmother told me that when i think of grandmothers, to think of the one from my mom's side because 'that's all you have now'.

so i've been pretty upset. i mean it's like i've just been dealing with all this shut up in this house. i haven't been able to go out except for like, twice this summer. my mom and i decided to take an impromptu road trip to franklin PA. it's this ridiculous hicktown, but we have a couple family members who just moved there from california so we got to see them. the ride down and back was hilarious, just my mother and i being dorks and smoking and calling on the spirit of thelma and louise. we left yesterday afternoon and came back this evening.

last nite i tried to get into a franklin bar with my mother and aunt but that town is so small they carded me, so i spent the nite at the super motel 8 in fucking franklin PA with my chihuahua, masturbating to fresh prince of bel air on nick at nite. my last friday nite before school starts.

which was fine, because i had tonite's date to look forward to. and then he bailed.

i'onno. i'm a stupid girl i guess. i got all cute and excited to go out and all and then, well, it's a long story that i'll hash out later but he bailed on me at the last minute.

i think i might go over to keith and jon's now for some much-needed chillout-ness.



i guess, in closing, i just want to thank everyone on the site who has been so nice to me and has offered me support. you really don't know how much it means to me.

take care, alison.

an insane week.

up until now, i had decided to live with my dad, so my mom was gonna move to arizona to live with her parents. i did this because my mom was drinking too much and i just thought that i'd be safer with my dad. obviously, this was not going to work out.
i've had a horrendous summer. no way to work because i haven't had a way to get to a job, no way to leave this stupid house because my dad's an asshole. and i can't do it anymore. i can't have him blowing up at me. i can't try and be a better person and get my shit together with him yelling at me all the time and expecting perfection when it's just not going to come. i'd make it come if i could, but i can't.
so two days ago he blew up at me about something stupid. except he was really scary. scary in the way he used to be, before he said he'd changed. it's the first time it happened in a long time, but i felt like the entire way there i had this sword of damocles hanging over my head. how am i supposed to try and be happy with all that pressure over my head? he could've blown up at any second, and he finally did. i won't go into the things he said, but they brought back enough of my past to solidify my decision. i'm living with my mother.

the divorce was supposed to be over today, but now it'll probably go on for another year because of my decision. we're all three of us going to have to stay here. we've been forced to stay living together for the past year and a half by the courts. i don't have any way to get to school or any money for school clothes or supplies which, sounds so bratty, but i can't help it.
i just got off the phone with my dad and he was talking about how mom and i won't have any money for college and how i'm going to end up pregnant.

kids take out student loans all the time, right?



i just don't see why he'd keep bothering if he hates me so much, i mean clearly.

gah. i need beer, and we are out. i suppose tequila will have to suffice.