Help me from the Fire

Ooh, the irritation is back. I can sense it coming. It’s not very friendly.

In the morning, I was ready to stand up and yell at the bratty thugs in my class who were playing loud rap music from their phones, thinking that we all would enjoy it. Oh, yes, sure! I so welcome the sound of profane songs about female genitalia and the N-word.

How I despise them. When my alarm rings at 6:06 in the morning, the first thought is, “God, I have to be around those idiots today.” The other day one of them came reeking of marijuana. Another day were cigarettes. Actually, after school, I was waiting for my mother to pick me up and, just from the corner, I could smell repulsive marijuana coming from the brats. They were right in public, next to a taco shop.

But, hell, I am doing excellent! A plus, Isadora, remember all the A pluses you have!!

Do you know how relieved I was when those kids were suspended for five days? It was bliss.

The headaches have come regardless of that. I can’t get any sleep during the day. I try to control myself but I just feel so mad and jealous of everything.

Oh lord, history class was a blast. We had to learn about the many inventions of Thomas Edison and we got to the movie camera. Ah, silents. Ah, the controversial kiss film. The man sneezing. The early firefighter film. How amazing! I was captivated.

As we were watching the video, one girl asked the teacher, “Movies back then didn’t have sound?”


I wonder if she thought that the early films were with Marilyn Monroe.

At lunch, this girl who sits next to me (God knows why) and criticized me for telling a teacher her friend sexually harassed me, asked me about the silents.

“That’s what you watch, right?”

“Well, not those very early films. Some of them are about ten minutes long. I watch feature films from latter years like 1918-1920s,” I replied.

“So, you really watch them without sound?”

“There’s piano music mostly.”

“How can you know what’s going on in the story? Like, without the sound?”

“Well, there’s intertitles.”

She gives me a puzzled look.

I sigh.

“The screen goes black and text appears either narrating the story or showing us dialogue between the characters.”

When I told her I went to the silent cinema every weekend last month, she was surprised.

“Why would you watch that? You just sit in front of the TV and see a movie with no sound?”

Oh, here’s a good one from today.

“There are people who like that??”

I chuckle. She hasn’t been very respectful to me. She asked for my notes without a please. When asking why she needed my notes, she said, “For my work, obviously.” Yeah….I had to tell her my computer tablet was dead. Twice.

She was also surprised that I go home after school and don’t go outside with friends to football games or more of that American stuff. Yeah, I have a life. It involves being myself.

Then she asked me about my religion. “So, you don’t have any belief?”

Oh, for the love of Touko Laaksonen! She invited me to some church play. I didn’t go because, to be honest, I’m not a Christian and don’t like hanging around this girl.

At least today in English we watched The Hobbit, which I’m enjoying greatly. Gandalf is a very attractive man.

Then I came home and felt just angry. I criticized my sister about everything. She’s seeing some silly band called Belphegor right now. They throw pig’s blood at you in gigs. Oh, animal sacrifice? Animal blood? One of the proudest reasons why I don’t like metal. Fucking, blasted, idiotic, cuntish, belligerent, damned, disgraceful assholes! LEAVE ANIMALS ALONE. YOUR MUSIC IS CRAP AND IT’S NOT THE FAULT OF INNOCENT LIVING CREATURES.

Wow, I’m angry. Also been pretty sad.

I don’t know why my sister likes black metal. I used to like it, but I grew up. I mean, maybe she could listen to nice bands like Reverend Bizarre or Kreator?  Oh, fucking hell.

Bands I would actually see live are my favorite band, Type O Negative, Fields Of The Nephilim, The Doors, and Black Sabbath. I am sure that these bands never used dead animals on stage.

I can’t even fall asleep during the afternoon to sleep off my anger.

Now, these things are not worth getting angry at. Being angry makes me so bitter. My insides just feel foul.

Thankfully, my father brought Pepsi and I can eat Peruvian food while watching Malcolm in The Middle.

This song describes me at the moment.

(My little brother hates this show.)

Oh, and another thing. Last week, I was looking for a Gustav Klimt art book and in the photography section I found something. Something that made me lose my faith in actual art. A book of just Kim Kardashian’s selfies.

So, people spend possibly their whole lives and days trying to get a book published and some plastic oily butt woman can just get a book of her own pictures published? Personally, you can just visit her social media accounts…I leafed through it and felt so mad. Your plastic boobs after a shower aren’t art. Neither is your jogging time. I told myself, “I can do much better. I am better than this.”

What a professional life, you know? Get famous off a sex tape. Make a television show of your family. Show off your plastic body. Now, that’s literary.

A-N-Y-W-A-Y….I will leave now to eat and drink Pepsi.

I love these two songs. Regards!

I just remembered that exactly five years ago I sobbed in the kitchen because my parents couldn’t afford The Sims 3: Late Night. It was the day of its release. I got it by the end of the week. Now, I don’t even touch that game anymore.


2 thoughts on “Help me from the Fire

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s