COOL CHICK .........by Wendy Soltero

IíM SITTING IN A BATHROOM AT 3AM IN DENVER COLORADO. ON THE FLOOR. WITH MY LAPTOP RESTING ON AN OVERTURNED EMPTY TRASH CAN BETWEEN MY LEGS. THE LIGHTS ARE OFF, SO I USE THE BLUE GLOW OF THE COMPUTER SCREEN TO NAVIGATE MY WAY.

IíM SUPPOSED TO BE SLEEPING. EVERYONE ELSE IS SLEEPING. I EVEN WENT TO BED, AND FELL ASLEEP FOR AN HOUR, BUT THE STIRRING ECHOES OF UNFAMILIARITY POPPED MY EYES WIDE OPEN. I TRIED TO KEEP THEM CLOSED, THEY WOULNíT LISTEN TO ME. THEN MY BODY STARTED LISTENING TO THEM. AFRAID I WOULD WAKE OTHERS WITH THE CONSTANT WRIGGLING OF RESTLESNESS, I EVENTUALLY ROSE SILENTLY AND RE-ESTABLISHED BY HOME FOR THE NIGHT. SO NOW I SIT, ON A DIRTY BATHROOM FLOOR, BREATHING IN TOXIC CHEMICALS IN A SMALL ENCLOSED AREA, BURDENED BY THE NOCTURNAL HELL LIFESTYLE I CREATED. SO NOW WHAT?

I SHOULD WRITE SOMETHING PROFOUND. I SHOULD WRITE SOMETHING WITH A POINT. THIS SHOULD BE EASY, SINCE I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY. BUT I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT I WANT TO SAY. MY ASS IS FALLING ASLEEP. BUT I BEGIN TO WRITE.

LOST IN A FEVERISH FRENZY OF FLOWING WORDS, IíM COMPLETELY OBLIVIOUS TO ANY ACTIONS OUTSIDE OF THOSE IN MY HEAD. FURIOUSLY TYPING I AM BLIND TO THE SLOW TURNING OF DOORKNOB. SO ENTRANCED AM I BY THE "IN THE MOMENT" GENIUS I AM CREATING THAT THE SLIVER OF LIGHT SLOWLY WIDENING ACROSS THE FLOOR GOES COMPLETELY UNNOTICED. THUS, WHEN I HEAR THE QUESTIONABLE SALUTATION, "HELLO?" I LOOK UP WITH ADORABLE SHEEPISH SURPRISE. CAPTíN JIM HAS DISCOVERED MY HIDEOUT, BUT HE DOES NOT KNOW MY SECRET.

I KNOW WHAT IíM DOING. IíM TOO DAMN SMART NOT TO. I WILL NOT DENY THE INCREDIBLE ROMANTIC VISION OF WRITING IN A BATHROOM ABSCONDED BY DARKNESS IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT WHILE THE REST OF THE WORLD SLEEPS. ITíS ARTSY. I LIKE ARTSY. AND IT MAKES ME FEEL REALLY COOL.

I AM CURSED BY "COOL" IMAGES OF ARTISTS. IMBEDDED IN MY HEAD SOMEWHERE IS THE IDEA THAT I CANNOT TRULY CREATE ART UNLESS IT IS ACCOMPANIED BY SELF DESTRUCTIVE BEHAVIOR. I ROMANTICIZE THE VISION OF KURT VONNEGUT SITTING AT AN OLD WOODEN DESK TYPING AND SMOKING PALL MALL CIGARETTES. AND IíM COMPLETELY CONVINCED THAT ALCOHOL AND DRUGS HAVE CONTRIBUTED TO THE GENIOUS OF JACK KEROUAC. AND I AM A COOL CHICK.

MAYBE THATíS WHAT I WANT TO WRITE ABOUT, BECAUSE DAMMIT I AM A COOL CHICK. ONE DOESNíT HAVE TO KNOW ME VERY LONG TO FIGURE IT OUT EITHER. BUT THIS IS NOT TO SAY I AM PERFECT BY ANY MEANS. IN FACT, I CAN GUARANTEE I AM JUST AS MESSED UP AS EVERYONE I KNOW. I AM IRRATIONAL, MOODY, IMPULSIVE, AND EXTREMELY MESSY. IíVE LIED, IíVE CHEATED, IíVE WALKED A THIN LINE, AND IíVE LOST MY BALANCE. IíVE LAID SLAIN AS CAESAR, BETRAYED AND MISLEAD BY THOSE I LOVED. IíVE STARED INTO EYES MISED WITH ADORATION, CONFUSION AND DISBELIEF AS THE LIPS UTTERED THE WORDS, "E TU BRUTUS?"

I HAVE WEPT AT PLEASURE; I HAVE SMILED AT PAIN. I HAVE STAGGERED INTO MY PARENTS HOUSE DRUNK PROCLAIMING COMPLETE SOBRIETY PRIOR TO VOMITTING ON THEIR BEDROOM FLOOR. I HAVE CURSED MY PARENTS FOR CARING SO MUCH. I HAVE NEGLECTED FRIENDS. I HAVE NOT BEEN AN OUTSTANDING CITIZEN. BUT I AM NOT EVIL. I AM JUST HUMAN, LIKE EVERYONE ELSE. BUT IíM HAPPY. IíM HAPPY BECAUSE IíM A COOL CHICK.