#magazines
It’s Monday afternoon, the first day after Fall Break. Several of my suitemates are here, relaxing a bit before we hit the dining hall and then scatter, like debris from a bomb. There are a zillion things to do on campus, on any given night. Lisa and I are going to a seminar, Anna and Sunny are going to a Uni play and Leong’s going to see a documentary.
Leong was hunched over a cup of dark tea, reading ‘J-14’ magazine. “Do any of you guys think Travis Kelce is hot?” She asked, not looking up. Leong subscribes to several ‘teen’ magazines, like ‘J-14’, ‘Girls' World’ and ‘Girl’s Life.’ She says that Yale is her chance to be the ‘American teenager’ she could never be at home (Macaw, China). We’d make fun of her if we didn’t all read them after she finished, and they were lying around.
“No,” said Lisa and I about the same time as Anna and Sunny said, “Yeah,” to varying degrees.
“Did you think he was hot before he started dating Taylor?” she asked, pushing the enquiry even further. “No,” said Lisa and I repeated in unison - we had this down now.
“He wasn’t on my radar,” Anna admitted. Sunny said, “Yeah, same here.”
“Why do YOU think he’s hot?” Leong asked Sunny (who’s fem-facing).
“I can appreciate a hot guy,” she said, sounding a little defensive, “as someone who could draw hetero interest.”
Then Lisa reported, from head down in her textbook, “Your mouth retains the DNA of everyone you ever kissed.” She looked up and asked me, how many guys have you kissed?
“You mean politely kissed or Deep-kissed,” I asked back, tilting my head, sticking out my tongue and slobbering it around, like a dog eating peanut butter.
“They mean French-kissed,” she replied, rescanning the last paragraphs as I calculated.
“So, the five guys I dated, but we used to play ‘spin the bottle’ at parties too.. so.. 25?” I said.
“You **** she laughed. “I have my truth,” I updogged, “How about you?”
“I’d forgotten ‘spin the bottle,’ Lisa admitted, recalculating.. “Yeah, 25 sounds about right.”
“Leong?” she asked Leong. “Two,” Leong answered instantly.
“Anna?” she asked Anna, so Lisa was going completely around the room with this survey.
“25 sounds right” Anna answered, “including spin,” (the bottle).
“Sunny?” Leong asked Sunny. “A HUNDRED,” I said, hijacking Sunny’s answer, and everyone chuckled. Every Friday night Sunny brings a different girl home to ‘spend the night.’ It’s rather impressive.
“A few,” Sunny answered, shrugging nonchalantly, “A girl doesn’t kiss and tell.”
“I’ve got a calculator,” Anna said, “if you change your mind,” holding her phone up like an offer.
Oct 23, 2023
Oct 23, 2023 at 5:09 PM UTC
thin. paper thin.
here is a bonus. (or is it bogus?)
the order of release.
the order of dead pages gliding in the wind.
advertisements for adopting a lonely asteroid or building fire extinguishers in your spare time.
the rain of acceptance comes with dark clouds of shipping and handling.
just check the appropriate box and send it in. send it in now!
Aug 7, 2023
Aug 7, 2023 at 12:36 PM UTC
It's best on the carpet
kneeling over clippings
vogue magazines and
national geographic
******* from some early year
I cut them up and paste them
sense of control
of placement
tall cotton socks
two-dimensional
nothing digital
shapes in shapes
any way I like it
torn edges
blue paper
make waves
for imaginary boats
capture a memory
a moment
in a scene you can hold
make your own
what could be better than that?
Apr 26, 2020
Apr 26, 2020 at 3:46 PM UTC
I clipped and prodded
Gazing in the mirror
I chiseled and I cracked
Twisting into the wanted woman
I painted and scratched
Thinking only of perfection
I snipped and I whacked
Until there was nothing left
Nov 28, 2019
Nov 28, 2019 at 8:20 PM UTC
I
pant at your sheer beauty
after the first sighting
in silence
I
crave and cradle your innocence
unnoticed
I
thirst to drink
from the source of your well
reluctantly
I
quiver a cowardice illusion
of the first move
from an awry smile of ignorance
I
steal your beauty and shred
Your body to pieces
unreachable you are torn from
a
silhouette desire
in
a damaged Magazine
Jul 30, 2018
Jul 30, 2018 at 3:14 PM UTC
I turn the pages of this magazine,
Ah, a "Family Circle" to be seen,
Perfect pictures, like beauty queens,
Is there a real family like the magazines?
Every one I know has some dysfunction,
Twisted nuclear folk, crossing at junctions,
Is this magazine fact or fictional?"
All I think is, "Glossy dysfunctional"........
Jan 1, 2017
Jan 1, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
A ***** drills inside my core
It nags, graps, pans, the hands
They knot in spins and twists
My crux left at the river side
Breathing,gasping fast, faster
Body out in the open rawness
Persisting resistance of the force
An outward shield winning
Winged left,right, up, down
Another day, a greater pace
A passive taste, ranting in haste
In bricks ***** all I taste is hate
All walking in dead silence
Heads shouting with dreams
A roll of sweet and sour sate
Echoes of taxes and budgets
How will they evolve us?
Snatching more from pockets
The rockets burst to mock us
Pulling our all to fund them
Nuclear bombs creating tombs
Distribution of lies and wars
Missiles disposing as lyrics
An objectification of reason
Figure brushes on magazines
Incisions of bits and **** hoots
To boost of the hot posed ***
No truth is scaffolded as real
A psychological brainwash
Pollutes and limits indefinately
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 2:59 PM UTC
we used to find security
in blankets
acceptance
in our mothers arms
love
when daddy wiped away our tears
stories
on our grandmothers hands
and now we have insecurity
masked by money and clothes
we’re not accepted unless we have
a following, a brand
we’re told to love is to be weak
and what stories?
all I see is plastic in place of wrinkles
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 2:04 PM UTC
I like to do those quizzes
in glossy bubbles that you
find
in Cosmopolitan and
Elle and
Seventeen.
Which girl should I be?
Should I
dump paper flowers
on my milkmaid braid?
Long skirts, long chains, and
Beatles on my radio
during their ‘Indian’ phase?
Should I
paint it all
black, strip life down to
a middle finger,
blare punk at full
scream,
and cram my toes in ratty Docs,
smash all emotion
into smithereens?
Should I
sugar-coat my mouth with
Maybelline, button up
collars, laughs, opinions,
read books on behaving
just like a
daydream,
sip teas, bake cookies, aim for
Ivy Leagues?
Which gilded box do I crawl
into?
Which skin to don
this week?
Which fashion editor-friendly
stereotype to fulfil?
Which girl should I be?
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
Waiting my turn to pay
For the items we need today;
The beans and the chili
And some picklelilli
And costly imported pate.
A headline that says glaringly
What some starlet does daringly.
What I see before my eyes
A big edition full of lies
They put here to tempt me daringly.
Where childbirth oddities
Are viewed as commodities
To put onto the front page
Soon, to become all the rage.
And two headed goats
Get the kind of public note
That should be reserved
For something more deserved.
We all know these stories
Are anecdotal glories
Made up by the magazines;
The tawdriest ever seen
And they don’t mind getting gory.
It’s yellow journalism
A sort of print format ****
Intended for the kind of fool
Who never finished school
And falls for jingoism.
Where childbirth oddities
Are views as commodities
To put onto the front page
Soon, to become all the rage.
And two headed goats
Get the kind of public note
That should be reserved
For something more deserved.
Brent Kincaid
4/18/2015
Apr 18, 2015
Apr 18, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC