A Girl Is a Half-Formed Thing by Eimear McBride Page B

Drink again. Good well that’s all I want to know. Your brother sends his love to you. Right. Love. Take care of yourself. Good night. Goodnight. Strings of words. Strings of words. I go upstairs. I go up to sleep.
    I keep my promise until the next day and the next day after is gone. I smell this is some world I’m in with loosed down hair. It is my mother cannot see. Cannot see into. I am glass no more. My body gone opaque so one hundred miles far. Won’t know won’t hurt her. Not ever can you say. Not ever you can tell tale tattler on me.
     
    We are bad her. She and me. My friend I’d call. Run wound to each. Going. Going. Thither thither. Places. Going all aware. Going to no good. Perhaps. Fling. Think never ever thinking I’ll look back. Nor do I don’t I. I don’t know what or I don’t know yet.
    See here this party. It’s a mad. I had never been. I have only seen and thought films were like that. Music hurting on the innards. Door. Lungs. People pouring noise out front back of this old house. Some glasses beakers. I have cans. In my bag. Where do I? Out them there no don’t put down or they’ll go you’ll be sorry. Money spent. I trup trup off behind her. Think I’m new and white. In the garden. In the wet. For grass still sucks it up all day. Where’s this? Just some fella I know she says. He said come and bring a friend. Him and other lads have this band. Oh. Brilliant. Good too. They squat here. Christ. What do I know? What do I know? People living mad life but I’m around it now. I can be in. I’m. What I’d say to those girls in school if. No. I won’t. Won’t be going back in there. I’m going just to say hello she says you stay here. And I sit under this tree while. What type’s it? Apple. Mortified at being alone. Drink up. Watch. She seeing them. Says I’m black now am I? Well then give us a kiss. She slather their hands on. Blankets wet full mouth smirking aren’t you pleased to see me? She knows all the right stuff. Right things done said brings the. Going house in. What is perfect on this lawn, there is no shame. She. Looking over her shoulder. Roll her eyes. You know what it means. I’m going. Off. Nod. Laughing me and she’ll tell later on whatever he has done.
    I am fine sit and drink and watch. All this harlotting go full on. Twist to look like I’m in here not just sitting by myself. Lay in the grass. Foots trodding dance around. See up skirts. In trousers. Music pumping ground under my head. I think some poems I’ll write. About. Sights. Remember. This wood smell of. Damp and. Dandelions stain on my bare leg. Sip up my. Sip and slurp it drink. Think of being by myself. Here. In this stranger’s downstairs flat. That. Whirl. Some fella coming up. Do you mind if I sit he and who are you then? Who are you? Do I know you no I do not. I turn my head is very slow and. Some strange man he is to me. Some man with black hair combed strange like balding but not. It seems. Will I talk at all I will. He chatting my name and all those things. I falling into that. Suppose I am here on my own. Will you another? Thanks for that. Will hear him tell me he’s how old a lot oh God lotter than me. I am addling but good to be seen. It’s very good to be seen.
    Hello there and one of these. You want some? Smoke. Never do. But will. It’s something else. No I don’t know how. But. Go on lassy you inhale and hold. That’ll do. That Jesus rips the tender throat out. Jesus give the eyes a very stream. He is laughing with at me but about my whirring head. I don’t like. Do. He lie beside. Stick his fingers in my hair. Aren’t you a lovely lovely thing. And talking to he’s talking still. I curling poems cannot listen. Smoke in again and in again. Feels hours and hours him and me. Our heads on a root. Benutted tree I see London. I see France. I can see your underpants. I hear him singing put his hand between my knees. Go way think I’m laughing. Spin the brain away from here. Ha you’re