backyard crowing


NaNoWriMo Practice

i've just discovered nanowrimo. here's what i tried, as an experiment--it's 800 words:

December 1, 2000 3:30 pm

Hi. My name is amy ace. I am not better than you just because my last name is ace. Thatís just the name I was born with. I am not an ace of spades, diamonds, clovers, and certainly not hearts. And I never ace anything. Get over it.

Iím writing in this journal because people (my family, that is, and they donít really count as humans), think Iím supposed to be some sort of writer. Go figure. Maybe a journal will ďinspireĒ me or some shit.

Like I said, Iím amy, and I live in the big apple, or new york, new york. Iím sixteen years old, and Iím being sent to boarding school in a month or so. Weíll see how that rolls over.

I have two brothers and two parents, and thatís more than enough to keep me annoyed. My parents say I should be a role model. I mean, Iím the eldest child and all, and the only girl, but I get myself into far more trouble than either of my brothers. I march to the beat of my own drummer, so I guess thatís good for them. Itíll be nice when iím off at boarding school, they wonít have me to influence them for the worse. Plus they just piss me off, so you know, itís not like Iíll miss them or anything. I get to corrupt the young minds of kids whose parents donít even know me. ah, the havoc I shall wreak! Isnít school great?

I guess people in new york are rough. Thatís what everybody whoís not from here seems to think. I have only left the city a few times, usually for family reunions and such. I have no reason to leave the city, except to get away from my family. Maybe Iíll move to paris. I donít know French, but who the hell cares? Iíll beg if I have to. It canít be that hard.

My friend mitch told me yesterday he would have some pot for tonight. I can hardly wait. Weíre meeting behind the seven eleven at midnight, I hope heís got the good kind, the pure kind that I can never get enough of.

I started with weed a few weeks ago when mitch and me were in gym. He asked me if I had ever smoked the stuff, and when I said ďno,Ē he about jumped out of his brown skin. So, being one to try anything once (or multiple times, whatever), I met up with him that afternoon for some ďhits Ďní hits,Ē as he called it. Hits of mary jane plus his hits of the 1970s CD on top of the abandoned warehouse down the street from punksville high, that is. Punksville is our term for parksville. Parksville. What a fucking joke. We are miles away from any park. We thought punks settled well. Oh, and central park is full of nutcases. Seriously, donít go near that joint.

So anyway, we usually just climb the fire escape of this stupid warehouse where they used to make shoes and smoke and fool around sometimes. I donít think mitch has gone very far, at least not farther than weíve gone. We arenít even dating per se, heís just my friend. And you know, friends help each other out, soÖthere you have it. Heís a cool guy, very laid back and all, and I donít think heíd ever freak out on me or anything. Itís not like heíd let me down, or expect much of me. heís not the type to go snooping in your diary or looking through your medicine cabinet. Heís justÖthere. Mitch. Someone I can count on, but not in a responsible sense. Now him Iíll miss when the rents shove me off to boarding school. Where am I going to get my sweet mary jane now?

Ah, someone in the joint is bound to have it. After all, it is for girls and boys needing ďremedyĒ and ďorderĒ in their lives, as the promotion video claims. Bunch of bullshit, if you ask me.

Iím in Coffee Conundrum right now. Geez, what an idiot name. Coffee. Conundrum. Somebody shoot me. the place is fairly busy, and at least they let me hang out and not pay for drinks. Free coffee for all aspiring writers, they say, so Iím in. people are flooding in right now, itís the end of the school day and some people think this is a hip place to hang out, after school. Me, Iíve been here for an hour or so already. Iím ready to leave this joint. I skipped today. Just didnít feel like it. Nobody deserves to have mrs. Merchef tell them that purple hair is considered distracting. WE LIVE IN NEW YORK, for peteís sake. Somebody kick that lady. unnatural hair color is no longer unnatural here; itís commonplace.

How can she not know this?

11:53 pm - Tuesday, Oct. 10, 2006


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