how to keep a boy in 30 days

By Jess Dupon

1. tell him he’s always right, if not for the arguments sake then just on principle 
2. impress him by remembering things he’s casually mentioned about himself
3. make weird faces at each other from across the room when other people are talking
4. befriend the friends and family, these are the people you really need to impress
5. don’t be a toilet-bowl cling on. just breathe, don’t smother all the oxygen out of it.
6. smile at him but don’t tell him why.  hey, it drives me crazy and i know what i’m thinking! 
7. make him the best sandwich he’s ever eaten: easy.
8. have morning pillow talk. why be converse clothed when you could do so under the covers?
9. make him breakfast in the morning. there’s nothing better than wake n’ bacon.
10. tell him you love him (but only if you really do) 

indulgence

By Jess Dupon

i find i have a hard time reading the last 1/4 of every book i pick up. it’s almost as if i retard myself so i can savor each page, word for word, and delay that bittersweet moment when i finally reach that last paragraph, ending as suddenly as the click of an automatic light switching off.

i tend to take advantage of a good thing i have in surplus. i am like oil; i succumb to all temptations and pillage for that fat financial turnaround until i’m running low and i pull the reigns short and try to meet supply and demand. i guess you could say i’m impulsive. although, i have my exceptions, because that is the american way: a loophole to every definition. i can eat all the lettuce out of my salad and save all the toppings for last. when i make them at the salad bar, i don’t even use lettuce, bypassing for more tomato, onion, peppers, raw mushrooms and broccoli, topped off with sprouts and cheddar cheese. a toppings salad.

but why can’t i enjoy the whole story, but i rush through all the good things, trying to get to the next best line, stanza, or scene: indulgence. each word is special, precise in its place and definite in definition and character. but together, the words harmonize in unity and meaning can swiftly change, getting caught in the turn of an unexpected storm, cracking thunder and lightening swords.

i can string those words and phrases into sentences, whole themes and concepts to consider. popcorn and cranberry strings on a hand-cut charlie brown tree: christmastime. each popcorn has it’s own pop worth considering and each cranberry swam in its little 1/2 inch in a bog somewhere in massachusetts. do i meet and greet with each little piece or consider them collectively? somehow the things you did become the things you do and singular moments are snowballing down mount olympus and growing large in size. but consider the snow, each snowflake unique in its own regard, beautiful in a way all only it can be. the snow blankets the ground and deepens. theres no limit in this approach, because no matter what its exciting. its something to play in, to explore, to work with and against, to hate, to love. it could cancel out school, shut you into the house, or even make you lose power. but, isn’t everything so pretty in white?

so, word by word is nice. but i’m impulsive and it’s fun to build it up and play in it until noses are running and faces are stretched wide, smiling raw and red.

hipsters

By Jess Dupon

i want to be a hipster so bad.
in fact, i wanted to be a hipster before i even knew that what i wanted to be actually had a word, so i guess maybe that makes me a hipster because i wanted it before it was cool. i wear the fake lens glasses because i think they make me look swanky and hip. i have pink streaks in my hair. i have tons of piercings that i’ve done to myself because i love needles and originality. i have a rainbow knapsack. i like to read poetry. my favorite sirius radio station is ‘the coffeehouse’ station. i smoke(d) american spirits…

-sidebar-

by the way i have now gone from ‘quitting’ cigarettes to ‘i don’t smoke anymore’, i think that’s an improvement. it’s going well now. i’m not acting like a moody bitch with a tree trunk stuck up her ass anymore.
i no longer dream about smoking or fixate on every person smoking within a 45 foot radius of me.

-end sidebar-

i like to have intellectual conversations. i volunteered at a library. i have my own chickens and bees. i shop at thrift stores. i have doc martens and toms and cowboy boots. my clothes are mismatched and i learned the art of layering during the frosty winter. 

when my friends started calling me a hipster i vehemently denied it- which just further evidence that i could be one.
but no, i appreciate a true hipster and i admit i am only a wanna-bee. 

dueces

By Jess Dupon

what an awful saying, but this is awful, so it’s awfully fitting.

it was conveniently raining today. after peeling myself out of bed at 12:30 to go use my food swipes for as many convenient to-go meals as i could, i decided to shell up in my room and finish my readings and typing my notes for my midterm tomorrow while realizing i’de been blocking out all the other stuff for tomorrow too.

hate it….love it….no definitely hate it. 

not smoking is nice because i strayed dry but awful in every other way because it would really help right now. 

i’ve been eating lots of chocolate to deal with this. like a lot…chips ahoy, doves, hot chocolate, peanut m&ms…i called my mom and she called me a bitch on the phone. i was totally being a bitch. i feel like i’m PMSing but i don’t PMS (i’m a lucky bitch) and this would be absolutely maddening to go through on a MONTHLY basis!?!?!

day two realization: not smoking makes me scared of getting PMS. 

By Jess Dupon

within the last three days, i have lost two packs of cigarettes. i’m taking this as a sign. plus, i’ve developed an unattractive cough. i’m fuming about my lost pack, all i want is a cigarette. instead i have to punch a wall or something….