says the young teacher who is suspected by some students of being a werewolf. In these days of Vampire Everything, gullible and bored jr and high school kids are all too willing to get into the mystery of this oddball teacher’s real identity. Even if it means calling in Van Helsing and sacrificing a virgin or two.
Which is one reason Rhiannon is wild to give up her virginity. Sadly, the girl’s had no takers, despite the statistics and the movies saying all you needed to do was manuever a bare half-nipple into a guy’s pubescent fingers and he’d have your hymen a shredded banner to your former naivete and unpopularity metaphorically desintigrating to nothingness behind the plump firm fancy favor the girl sews and presents to her man and the world if her man (boy) won’t grab it up and wave it. Hell, she’ll wave it herself. And no more lonely nights (why did putting music behind the most banal lyrics elevate them to something strong and poetic? Was a magical material change happening in the dance of beats per minute and beats per heart and rhymes per line? Or was it smoke and mirrors?)
Her best gay girllfriend Kenneth would role/roll his eyes: Both, they are both, Annon.
I say he roled his eyes, spell it both ways because that’s what happens. His eyes roll and take on a new role. He’s the best actor at Rafters High School, but he doesn’t get the best parts because, well, he’s kind of faggy, to be honest. And tall without being buff or imposing. And he lets his hair grow pretty long and natural and curly, sort of like Brian May or Peter Frampton, which are adorable looks, but not leadiing man looks.
Robert Daltry pulled it off. He must have been real macho or something. My friends tell me I should get with the popular musicians of today, not moon about the raisins of my mother’s generation. But she’s already got the collection and I’ve been hearing it since birth, in utero, actually, as she never fails to reminicse with me as an embryo as if I would remember this ‘special time’ we had together. My mom’s a little nuts. But she’s okay, I guess. She doesn’t make me call her 15 times a day just to keep track of me. And I DO listen to new music and I have looked at the new boys. My mom swears they are the same boys as when she was my age, only a little air-brushed to make it not obvious– that the studios, movie and audio, have pods of stars who have the bone structure, chemistry, charisma already pre-set and they just keep cloning them when the ones already out get too old or lose their voices or die of an overdose or find out something about the pod factory.
‘Just like in Brave New World.’ And I know he knows what he’s talking about because he never looks up outlines online and he doesn’t even OWN a Kindle. He always goes to the bookstore (the BOOKSTORE!) or the library and buys or borrows the book. I’ve never seen anything like it. He has bookshelves in his room. His mother doesn’t even mind–mine would FREAK. Books?! Why add clutter and dust-collecters to the house? With your brother’s asthma? Download it on your Kindle.’
So mostly that’s what I do, when I bother to read the whole book, which I can’t see the point of. It’s not like the old days when there were only Cliff Notes, like my mom tells me about, so even if you did cheat everyone had the same cheat book so you’d be caught out right away. Kenneth’s mom says that might matter if the teachers had ever read anything but the Cliff Notes themselves, but she doubted it. She’s a little bitter and starved for conversation since moving to Lyonesse Isle in Florida from her parent’s university subsidised mansion overlooking Lake Cayuga’s sparkling waters at Cornell. Her parents were both professors there, and she had the run of the University pretty much, including the electron accelerator lab (she had a souvenir nametag that collected radiation and chirped like a canary when the concentration got too high.
should have blog only for fiction…yes?
anyway, teacher turns out to have DID from childhood abuse trauma, exaserbated by Jonestown. (from seething pot into flame), then Nimue and band in Ithaca??? here’s where the connection’s getting tangled/untangled.