You Can’t Hide Your Pryin’ Eyes

When I was younger, I not only willingly shared my journals with everyone, I was kind of insistent about it. It was rooted in eleventh grade…

[stextbox id=”grey” caption=”Journal, October 13, 1990″]In high school, I really enjoyed the way I could carry my journal all over the place and make notes in class. Anna and Michelle and Sheri would race to class to read it. I miss the feeling of anybody reading over my shoulder, the feeling of it being important or interesting to someone.[/stextbox]

In my 20s, I was also certain it would impress young women.

[stextbox id=”grey” caption=”Journal, April 8, 1991″]

Don’t laugh.

I wonder who is attracted to me. Who has always had her eyes on me but never acted on it?

[Name] told me one time that for a while she “wanted to jump my bones.” I think she’s still attracted to me. I’ll bet [other name] wants me deep down inside, no pun intended, but would never show it.

I think everybody is attracted to some degree to everyone else (except the “extreme repulsivos”).

I wonder who fantasizes, or has fantasized, about me to get aroused. Who orgasms thinking about me?

I told you not to laugh.


Now, failure to read the Giant Muh is punishable by summary execution. How far we have come.

[stextbox id=”grey” caption=”Journal, October 25, 1988″]

Junior high…

At the sound of the bell, I used to race for the hallway, walking as fast as I could, but not running. Running was against the rules, but walking with your legs straight at breakneck speeds wasn’t. All the geeks and I seemed to race for the cafeteria line. The idea was to get there first, to be first in line, so you wouldn’t get a tray of cold food. Hamburger day, usually Thursday, was the most popular. You always had to hurry to get a good spot in line for those pasty, dry hamburgers.

In fifth and sixth grade I used to watch Bobby eat with his headgear in. Food piled up on the metal part in his mouth. It was pretty disgusting. One day he lost the band for the molar that held his headgear in place. We helped him look for it, but we didn’t find it.

By seventh grade, though, I was looking at girls, and thinking that they were looking at me. In the cafeteria, I always ate facing west, two tables over from where the popular girls (like Reneé Cole) always sat. I rarely stared, but always had them in the corner of my eye. They probably never noticed.


1 Comment

  1. Let me be the first to remind you that God is always reading over your shoulder. Or maybe she sends an angel to sit there. If you put the head of pin on your shoulder one will definitely be there unless that’s been contracted out to the NSA. Yeah, that’s it. (BTW, my raging homophobia is the only thing that has kept me away from jumping your bony, flat posterior portion of your manly anatomy.)

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