#they be like wearing uggs at FOUR and like leopard print and shit and be making ig reels and i be like MOM WHAT IS E: DRIVE???

[literarygoon]

So,

Cora was calling me. Cora never called me.

It was November 2007, and I was just finishing a sushi dinner with my friend Katie when my phone buzzed from the inside pocket of my newly purchased peacoat. I was walking to my scooter Elvis and the evening wind was deliciously salty. I loved downtown Victoria, and had been counting my blessings ever since starting the creative writing program a couple of months earlier. One of the best things about the experience was partying with a young woman I considered my pseudo-wife named Jen Tucker.

I’d never met anyone like her before. Originally I’d dated her lifeguard older sister, but things had soured in an epic fashion. She wasn’t impressed that I had glommed on to Jen afterwards, but there was something about her that was intoxicating. She kind of reminded me of my little sister Ashley, but crasser. She liked to swear, talk about sex, and make fun of people. We bombed around the city with her perched on the back, squeezing my sides between her ultra-athletic legs. She was a fucking bomb shell, but she was also off-limits — she’d been very clear about that when we first started hanging out.

One day a cop pulled us over because we only had one helmet, which Jen was wearing. I was flying free, bare-headed Thailand-style, and I liked the feeling of freedom that came with the wind whipping through my dangling blond curls.

“Well, at least you’re a gentleman,” he said, as he handed me the ticket.

Jen lived in cluster housing at UVic, while I lived off-campus. Three or four nights a week I would sleep over in the living room, while Jen was down the hall with her three roommates. They’d all learned to tolerate me like they would a rambunctious pet that Jen led around on a leash. I’m not sure they particularly liked me, and they were quickly getting sick of Jen.

“Will?” Cora said. “Where are you right now?”

“I’m downtown. Just had sushi. Why? What’s up?”

She sighed, and then I heard a scream in the background. “You’ve got to come get Jen. She’s gone crazy or something.”

“Crazy?”

“She got really drunk and she started screaming at everybody and now she’s breaking shit. Like we’re going to call the cops cuz she’s being a nightmare. She keeps asking for you.”

I blinked, pausing in the street alarmed. “Is she okay?”

“She’s okay, I just think you need to come get her before things get worse. She just broke a mirror and there’s glass all over the ground. I’m fucking bleeding. Can you come?”

I went into go mode. “Of course, yeah. I’m like 15 minutes away. I’ll be right there, okay? Just keep her corralled.”

Jen didn’t like hearing advice, and revelled in being a shit disturber. This was a trait that I found endearing and everyone else found really goddamn annoying. You could never tell her what to do, never convince her she was wrong, never coax her into course correction. She liked doing things the wrong way, like Sublime, because that was her way. Her jet-black hair reflected her rebel heart and you got the sense that she was always one moment away from violence.

I pushed my little scooter to the extreme as I flew down Fort Street and then Shelbourne, cutting across a lawn as I headed towards UVic Housing. I was sweating and worried, swearing under my breath as I tried to get my scooter to go just a little bit faster. I had the sense that Jen was in real danger, and the lifeguard in me was swimming to her rescue.

“Oh, thank God,” said her roommate Lindsay, when I opened the door. Music was pumping down the hallway and I could hear feral screams through the walls. “I think she’s going to kill somebody.”

I nodded seriously. “Let’s get this sorted before the security guards show up.”

Lindsay sighed. “Honestly? Just get her the fuck out of here.”

When I finally beheld my little wife, coming around the corner ululating with her smoker’s rasp, she was wearing a leopard print bikini and a pair of Uggs. She was wielding a field hockey stick with both hands and had a crazed look in her eyes like a Japanese samurai. I held out my hands like I was talking to a bucking horse.

“Jen, it’s okay,” I said. “Everything’s okay.”

“These fucking bitches were trying to turn off my music,” she snorted.

“Nobody wants to turn off your music. We just think you should get dressed and come with me.”

“Come with you where?”

“You can come over to my place. You can sleep there, in my bed, if you want. You don’t have to deal with these girls anymore.”

“These bitches.”

“Right, you can just come with me and everything will be okay. Okay? Okay?”

Eventually I calmed her down enough that Cora could help her put on clothes. Together with Lindsay they packed her an overnight bag and talked to her in hushed voices, still fearful. I stood there with my giant motorcycle helmet, looking out the window cautiously in fear that campus security would show up and make everything worse.

Twenty minutes later I pulled out on to Mckenzie, and with Jen’s arms tightly wrapped around me we coasted through the cold darkness. Looming arbutus trees whipped by on either side of us. It didn’t matter that we weren’t dating, that we’d never had sex — I was in love with Jen in a way I’d never been with anyone else. I was completely dedicated to her. She was like a giant barking black dog. 

By the time we got to my house, all my roommates were asleep so we slipped into my bedroom. Jen was still muttering about “bitches” as I pushed her into my bed, pulled up the covers, and put my hand to the side of her face. I wanted her to know that I accepted her no matter how violent and crazy and fucked up she was. In fact, I loved her more because of it.

“Will you stay in here for a bit?” she asked. I couldn’t see her because the light was turned off. “Like could you stay with me?”

“Of course.”

I pulled back the cover and climbed in beside her. It reminded me of the time she’d sat on my lap when we’d gone to a sex shop on Granville Street in Vancouver to see the peep show, after dine and dashing from a pub across the street and breaking beer bottles in the street. There was an innocence to our intimacy that was hard to describe, but it felt similar to having a baby. She was my little sister, my wife, my love. As I crawled in, she curled up to my chest and began to cry. First little hiccups of sadness, then giant gulping gurgles of mourning. I didn’t know what she was so upset about, but I patted her hair and told her that everything would be fine. 

A few minutes later she was asleep.

The Literary Goon

[hannibalismos-jaaneman]

being a teen gen z, gen alpha terrifies the living fuck outta me.

[rinnnyxr]

-

You own a lot of clothes. You can’t cook. You are still in high school. You don’t mind country music. You are very close with your mom. You love smores. Mint chocolate chip is your favorite kind of ice cream. You get along with most people. You like fish better than dogs and cats. You are scared of dogs. You have a summer job. You don’t really like fast food. You weigh less than 115 pounds. You like your name. You spend too much time on the computer. You enjoy rollerblading. You don’t like to be alone. You don’t like video games. You love the piano. You are a decent singer. You love movies. You take a lot of naps. You don’t know too many big words. You are a cheerleader. You hate when people judge you. You hate when people are always in a bad mood. You like to dress up. You don’t wear a lot of make up. You like hot weather. You love being tan. You spend too much money. You love buying shoes. You like when it rains. You don’t know what you want to do with your life yet. You love trampolines. You aren’t much of a partier. You don’t like high school. You are single. You would love to go sky diving. Bright colors are your favorite. You like fishing. You have back problems. You trip a lot. You have one sister. You love being at the beach. You like meeting new people. You think driving is fun. You like trying new things. You get scared easily. You love God. Cheetah is your favorite animal. Most of your friends are guys. You like looking at pictures. You would love to be a model. You love to dance. You eat a lot. You hate when people act stupid. You text a lot. You are cold almost all the time. You like glitter. You eat a lot of grilled cheese. You smile all the time. You cry easily. You love life. You do everything last minute. You are always late. You have had too many best friends to count. You watch Big Brother. You yell a lot. You lose everything. You hate the word epic. You like black cars. You like Miley Cyrus. You don’t like when people smoke around you. You wear perfume a lot. You don’t like fake people. Your favorite president is Ronald Reagan. You have really curly hair.

-

You’re female. Your birthday is in the spring. You spend a lot of time stuck in your head. You’d like to write a novel one day. You think the smell of smoke is disgusting. You listen to indie music. You adore music from the 60s/70s/80s. Your favourite pastime is reading. You don’t understand the whole ‘kawaii’ obsession. You enjoy something a lot of people your age hate. You’re asthmatic. You never know what to say around people. You’re extremely shy, and it’s often mistaken for rudeness. You like running. You feel like you don’t belong in the place you live. Discrimination of any kind makes you angry. Whipped ice cream is your favourite. You’re always cold. You hate the social networking site Facebook. Justin Bieber’s attitude pisses you off. You swear a lot more than you probably should. You have self-harmed. You’re on/you have been on antidepressants. You have made fun of something, but secretly enjoyed it. You’re not sure if you want kids or not. You want to travel the world. You’ve never been popular at school. You wanted to be a singer before you found out that you couldn’t sing. You have naturally curly hair. You like experimenting with different styles of handwriting. You like learning about History. You’re bad at every science. You’re even worse at Maths. Human psychology interests you. You’re agnostic when it comes to religion. You’re interested in the occult. You use Tumblr. And you would hate for people you know in real life to find your blog. You keep your thoughts to yourself. You like burning candles. You don’t like yourself. You’re trying to be more positive. Horror movies are your favourite. Blood and guts don’t bother you. You hate everything regarding to feet. You try to be as honest as possible. You get along well with your family. You trust very few people. You have at least one cat. You’ve read all of the Harry Potter and Narnia books. You hate going out anywhere. You sleep a lot. You can turn almost anything into a joke. You listen to a lot of things ironically. You have strange thoughts. Writing notes helps you absorb information.

-

You live with a little white dog. The guy you’re crushing on has a really strange name. Your boyfriend’s name is Michael. You’re 18. You have long brown hair. You have your first part-time job. You like to go tanning. You don’t like the cold. You watch The Walking Dead. You’re very self-conscious. You like to trip. You like to smoke weed. You’re a tiny person. You’re 5’6 but weigh less than 100 lbs. You like leopard print. You look like Blair. You like house parties. Sometimes you like chilling at home, doing absolutely nothing. You play video games with your boy/girlfriend. Shopping is one of your favorite things, ever. Your boy/girlfriend’s allowed to spend the night. You wear your hair down straight almost every day. You love to write. You’re real shit with numbers. You’re clumsy as hell. You don’t eat enough. You want a pet deer. You adore Audrey Hepburn. You’re finishing your last year of high school. You like to read a lot. You can’t wait for the new The Great Gatsby to hit theaters. You want a Cadillac. You love it when boys smell really good. You’re a very organized person. You can’t really cook anything at all. You love avocado. You love Urban Decay. You love makeup. You love UGGs. You love riding boots. You love lace-up boots. You really just love boots and shoes in general. You’re very very pale. You like knowing that people like you even if you don’t like them. You’ve taken two foreign language classes. You can’t speak anything other than English. You love going on planes and you even love airports. You’ve never left the United States. Most of your clothes are from American Eagle or Hollister. You’re a good shot. You’re a good swimmer. You’re a fast runner. You’re kind of materialistic. You have no idea what you’d like to go to school for. Sports confuse you. You’re totally indifferent to who wins what game, always. You have three older brothers and no sisters. You have your belly button pierced. You only wear small stud earrings. You shower twice a day. You’re a light sleeper. You get colds often. You love zoos and amusement parks. You love Channing Tatum. You love The North Face. You have a Clarisonic Mia. You use only sulfate-free hair cleansers (Wen). You like to go rock climbing. You like to go white-water rafting. You like to go camping. You want a puppy but you don’t want to take care of one. You watch American Horror Story. You watch Catfish, and adore Nev. You watch Game of Thrones. You watch Boardwalk Empire. You watch True Blood. Your phone is always on silent. You want the iPhone 5. Your boy/girlfriend goes all out whenever he can find an excuse to. Your boy/girlfriend got your chocolate and flowers on Valentine’s Day. (: Your boy/girlfriend’s a nerd. You have to wear contacts. You rarely take your contacts out. You don’t believe in God or any *higher power*. You like hearing other people talk about you. You have expensive electronic devices you never use. You fall in like with people a lot. You have a lot of perfumes. You have a lot of makeup. You can’t get along with your mom. You live with your older brother. You’ve got to start getting ready for work.