Well, actually, I don’t feel all that great, but I don’t care. I don’t have a temperature, so my mother had no choice but to let me go to school. There was no way I was going to lie in bed another day. Not with Jo-C-rox out there somewhere, possibly loving me.
But so far, nothing. I mean, we swung by Lilly’s in the limo and picked her up, as usual, and Michael was with her and all, but by the casual way he said hello to me you would hardly have known that he’d ever sent me a get-well e-mail signed “Love, Michael,” let alone ever called me the Josiest girl he’s ever met. It is so very clear that he isn’t Jo-C-rox.
And thatLove at the end of his e-mail was just a platonicLove. I mean, Michael’sLove obviously didn’t mean he actuallyloves me.
Not that I ever thought he did. Or might. Love me, I mean.
He did walk me to my locker, though. This was extremely nice of him. Granted, we were in the middle of a heated discussion about Tuesday’s episode ofBuffy the Vampire Slayer, but still, no boy has ever walked me to my locker before. Boris Pelkowski meets Lilly at the front doors to the school and walks her to her lockerevery single morning, and has done so ever since the day she agreed to be his girlfriend.
Okay, I admit that Boris Pelkowski is a mouth-breather who continues to tuck his sweaters into his pants despite my frequent hints that inAmerica , this is considered aGlamour “Don’t.” But still, he is a boy. And it is always cool to have a boy—even one who wears a retainer—walk you to your locker. I know I have Lars, but it’s different having yourbodyguard walk you to your locker, as opposed to an actualboy.
I just noticed that Lana Weinberger has purchased all new notebook binders. I guess she threw away the old ones. She had written “Mrs. Josh Richter” all over them, then crossed it out when she and Josh broke up. They are back together now. I guess she’s willing once again to have her identity obfuscated by taking her “husband’s” name, since she’s already got threeI Love Josh es and sevenMrs. Josh Richter s on her Algebra notebook alone.
Before class started, Lana was telling everyone who would listen about some party she is going to tonight. None of us are invited, of course. It’s a party given by one of Josh’s friends.
I never get invited to parties like that. You know, like the ones in movies about teenagers, where somebody’s parents go out of town, so everybody in the school comes over with kegs of beer and trashes the house?
I do not actually know anybody who lives in a house. Just apartment buildings. And if you start trashing an apartment, you can bet the people next door will call the doorman to complain. That could get you in major trouble with the co-op board.
I don’t suppose Lana has ever considered these things, however.
The 3rd power ofx is called cube ofx
The 2nd power ofx is squared
Ode to the View from the Window in My Algebra Class
Sun-warmed concrete benches
next to tables with built-in checkerboards
and the graffiti left by hundreds
before us in
Day-Glo spray paint:
Joanne Loves Richie
Punx Rule
Nuke Fags andLesbos
And
Amber Is a Slut.
The dead leaves and plastic bags scatter
in the breeze from the park
and men in business suits try to keep the
last few remaining strands of hair covering
their pink bald spots.
Cigarette packets and used-up chewing gum
coat the gray sidewalk.
And I think
What does it matter
that it is not a linear equation if any variable is raised to a power?
We’re all just going to die anyway.
Friday, October 24, World Civ
LIST FIVE BASIC TYPES OF GOVERNMENT
anarchy
monarchy
aristocracy
dictatorship
oligarchy
democracy
LIST FIVE PEOPLE WHO COULD CONCEIVABLY BE JO-C-ROX
Michael Moscovitz (I wish)
Boris Pelkowski (please no)
Mr. Gianini (in a misguided attempt to cheer me up)
My dad (ditto)
That weird boy I see sometimes in the cafeteria who gets so upset whenever they serve chili and there’s corn in it (please please no)
AAAAARRRRRGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, October 24, G & T
It turns out that since I’ve been gone, Boris has started learning some new music on his violin. Right now he is playing a concerto by someone named Bartok.
And let me tell you, that’s exactly how it sounds. Even though we locked him and his violin into the supply closet, it isn’t doing any good. You can’t even hear yourself think. Michael had to go to the nurse’s office for ibuprofen.
But before he left, I tried to steer the conversation in the direction of mail. You know, casually, and all.
Just in case.
Anyway, Lilly was talking about her show,Lilly Tells It Like It Is, and I asked her if she’s still getting a lot of fan mail—one of her biggest fans, her stalker Norman, sends her free stuff all the time, with the understanding that he wants her to show her bare feet on the air: Norman is a foot fetishist.
Then I mentioned that I’d received someintriguing mail lately. . . .
Then I looked at Michael real fast, to see how he responded.
But he didn’t even glance up from his laptop.
And now he is back from the nurse’s office. She wouldn’t give him any ibuprofen because it is a violation of the school drug code. So I gave him some of my codeine cough syrup. He says it cleared his headache right up.