Dear Reader, I made this per-zine for both your own perusal and as a way to attempt to organize my own complex sentiments surrounding high school. I have graduated, and come this fall I will be moving to Chicago to chase after my BFA in Writing. Since high school has ended, I feel lighter as if I am no longer burdened by my own disdain or insecurities.
11:20 Wonder Have you ever watched your own heart pound? Or screamed just because you cared? Have you ever felt so magnetized towards another that you can speak without a sound? I used to equate nirvana with ambivalence, as if siphoning away my empathy would finally bring me peace.
People tend to romanticize high school because it is weirdly binding to be able to say that you were stuffed in a building with your peers and you made it out alive. Already, I am encountering barely-former classmates who are citing high school as the best of something, whereas I am still trying to make sure that my graduation wasn’t a joke and I don’t have to go back there.
Nowadays, I let myself sprawl.
My least favorite time of day used to be lunch because I couldn’t deal with the ugly din of my school mates yelling or the fact that the cafeteria smelled like day old green beans. Thus, I spent most of my lunches cooped up in the Starbucks down the block making lists in my journal about what I would do if I ever went for coffee with Bjork. I survived high school by dreaming up elaborate scenarios about my life after high school, and now that it’s happening in real time I have no idea how to feel. I don’t know where I’m going, but I wrote all these poems so maybe that’s a start.
So fuck it,
I
I reach for porcelain hands without shying away. I let myself get scooped up and spun around. When I smile, I let my teeth show. Some nights are so inexplicably electric that you know your blood is fire rather than gasoline. It makes you think that maybe life is one everlasting David Bowie song.
why shouldn’t you sing along?
advice to those girls that are all elbows and pixie cuts When your mom tells you that you shouldn’t join the Gay Straight Alliance because “someone might think you’re gay”
than feel anything at all,
shrug your shoulders and remind her that she’s the one who wants
spend the day in bed watching movies with Winona Ryder in them;
you to “participate” anyway.
because her voice sounds like cold comfort-
When your first girlfriend buys you your first cup of coffee
and you need that right now.
don’t confuse the euphoria buzzing through your veins with love rater than espresso. Later, when she hands you your first can of beer and it feels cold and tastes like cat pee, your eyes will sparkle and slosh about as she calls you beautiful. But don’t believe her when she kisses your lips hard and desperate then says “it was just the booze”. You can be pretty without the stoli, but it’ll take a couple years for you to stop wanting to detach yourself from your one and only body. When you get so lonely that you would rather have canyons between your ribs
One day, you’ll bleach your hair and read books that serve as the inverse of your world. One day, this will feel like a dream. Until then, don’t stop fighting. Hug your stretch marks, scream when you’re angry and know that you have a voice that deserves to be heard Loud and Clear.
State Parks with Bjork I want to go camping with Bjork. We can sleep under the stars in nylon cocoons. We could talk about metamorphosis or where to find magic, after all these years. As we pass a fifth of whiskey, asking all the questions that seem so startling during tea. Like: Are you scared of sharks or dying? How’d you get past 23? Where’s your favorite hill in Iceland? We can make pancakes in the morning, or play pretend in the creek. Making friends, with deer or mermaidswhoever gets up latest and will help us pack. As we drive home we’ll sing Bruce Springsteen and think about the connotation of two swamp witches travelling together.
Mutual Weirdo's I want to see the world with you, even though I can barely leave my room. You make me so much less cynical. I call you when I’m drunk or tired and your voice stops the world from spinning. I want to spend the night with you,
Cheesier than Pizza I will never be cool, I just want to feel better. I spend my whole life in the same bat-sleeved sweater. Maybe one day I’ll have the courage
our limbs tangled up like tree roots.
to slip a garter of violets around your hesitant knees.
I write to feel in control but with you I can feel my fingers letting go
You say that you have nothing to offer,
palms facing upward ready for new hands to hold.
I beg to differ, darling girl
I’ll be brave and stop fighting let myself get wrapped and swirled with another human even when I feel like crying and running back to the cheap motel room in my head where I keep the apathy and whiskey. Humans hurt each other, but they also make art and mac and cheese. I don’t think it would be so devastating to trust them.
save for self loathing tendencies.
you’re the only 10 I see.
Mulder and Scully I want a love like two special agents. I want to hold hands and fight crime. I’ll wear pant suits and run down the bad guys. Propose a theory and I’ll just roll my eyes. People say that making art predestines you to an implicitly lonely life. They tell you that if you see a U.F.O it’s really just a smudge in the sky. But these people lined up to see the fiji mermaid, a monkey corpse and a fish stitched in two. 'Cause they wanted to succumb to the magic of the ocean. A believer and a skeptic make a kick-ass team in trench coats. They shouldn’t work so well but they do maybe it’s magic or unresolved sexual tension but it makes me think that love could be true. Just because I’m prone to being cynical, doesn’t mean I don’t want to believe.
Gradu-waiting I could never be a coke head because I already talk too much,
I tried to write about pizza and I thought about the ocean. I wanted to be a seal instead of a Girl.
whenever I am nervous all the words tumble from my mouth.
Now I’m 18
I don’t even know what I’m saying
and I want to be a mermaid
but I can feel my lips moving
whenever I grow up;
and hear my teeth click-clacking like typewriter keys.
in the no longer distant future.
The other day in French class I suggested talking to the moon whenever you are lonesome and confined to your room.
It’s weird to feel sad about the moments you’ve been waiting for, but when you carry a notebook you haul around the past.
But I was trapped in French class,
So when the time comes you can’t retract your statement-
so I just looked like a loon.
no Takebacks.
I always carry notebooks because they make me feel safe. Even when I was little I was so neurotic about my choice in paper products. I tried to write about pizza and I thought about the ocean.
Sad Gurl Siren Song
and the record whispers while you fall in love
It’s desolate and fucked up at the same time.
with Dead Guys on T.V.
Your faith in humanity is curled up next to a tampon wrapper on the floor of the girl’s bathroom.
Come morning, it’s just jarring.
All the should-have-saids are lurking through the halls dodging bells like bullets
Every sound is a needle or a zit you’re dying to pick. The scissors are dull, just like your classmates
and sneaking out just to feel profound.
even if you’ve seen eyes that have cosmos inside.
Your revolt is in your cup of coffee,
You are dealing the duality.
disdain and splenda,
but that doesn’t mean you like it.
every morning. Walk late into class, your knees are knocking hairy shins questioning this reality. Because yeah, it can be beautiful. When It’s 2 in the morning and the world is dozing
and the record whispers while you fall in love
What's your Damage, Heather? She’s got spun gold flaxen hair with minimal split ends tamed by a velvet bow;
The loudspeaker crackles grey and invasivestudents we have most unfortunate news
the color of coagulated blood.
Heather Chandler is gone,
She tried to be a Lisa, a Jenny, or Marie-
Such an unfortunate passing.
but she was Heather ever since she was 3.
Wear your best blacks and go home to console
Her lipstick was blush pink but waxed with a violence
your fellow classmates
a craving for power, a viscous lust to succeed beat the world into submission.
though a morsel of your rotten conscious is exultant
Straddle it.
ding dong
Breed. Her eyes they were hazel with a haunting serenity; as the spellbound boys accentuated her vanity. Her friends, why they adored hertogether to the end. Slice the palm with your aunts rusty silver pocket knifelick your palms leave a cotton candy lipstick huebind the Truth with spit and hemoglobin. Stifle the thought that this should be you. Walk behind because your mom calls you “pensive” Hold back her hair after lunch on Tuesday’s reassure her through self deprecation wonder why?
the Witch is Dead.
Drive Thru Blessings May you be golden like french fries and resilient like a burger in the back of the freezer that refuses to thaw. When you kiss may it burn hot like an oozing slice of pizza and may your lover look at you with the same jubilation of the man in at the door in his underwear who’s just waiting for the pizza part of a pizza Netflix marathon. May this love be malleable like gummy worms and keep you warm like a 99 cent cup of coffee on a cold winter’s night.
Awake and Dreaming Everyone deserves to dance to their favorite records in their underwear while giving themselves whip lash with their greasy hair. It’s okay to forget to shower and binge watch T.V. and pet dogs in the street. It’s okay to be excited and let your eyes light up and runyourwordstogether because you love something so much. I am sick of passivity, I’m tired of coping, I’m ready to start living. I want truth and beauty, I want a love to lament. I want to stay up late at night because I’m talking to people who peek into my soul and like what they see. The world is indescribably wider than high school makes it out to be. It’s okay to smile, even if you don’t have the words to express that weird feeling in the bottom of
your stomach
when you feel yourself grasping that elusive state of Okay.
Bedroom Eyes: Songs to Dream to 1). Lost in My Bedroom-Sky Fererria 2). Oblivion- Grimes 3). Diamond Mine- Hop Along 4). Tweaker Kidz- The Aquadolls 5). There is A Light that Never Goes Out (Smiths Cover)- Dum Dum Girls 6). Keep on Moving- King Tuff 7).Full Dogs Bomb the Moon- David Bowie 8). I Found a Reason- The Velvet Underground 9). Heartbeats- Knife 10). Heaven or Las Vegas- Cocteau Twins
Thank you for reading! If you would like to give me any feedback on this zine, or just talk about fun stuff and David Bowie don’t hesitate to contact me! EMAIL: rjaccola@gmail.com WEBSITE: www.swampwitchdreams.tumblr.com