By calvin (the koosh guy)
Date: 1 April 1998

Creep (Always Smiling)

      A  nameless man in a sea of people. 
      Some would call him 'boy,' or maybe 'young man,' but he doesn't feel that 
any of these terms fit him quite right. He attends senior high school. He's circa
seventeen, that awkward age when everyone thinks he should be starting to 'grow 
up' (whatever THAT means). He walks aimlessly, not really meaning to go 
anywhere... and not ending up anywhere. There are people who would say he was 
moping, or maybe sulking... after all, he thinks, one must keep up appearances...
      He turns a random corner, both on the road he's following and in his 
thoughts. His mind flickers over the reason for the random stroll - and pulls 
away sharply. Tender spot. He doesn't want to touch HER yet. 
      But slowly, probing his feelings like a child playing with a sore loose 
tooth, he does. It's inevitable anyway, he thinks as he resigns himself to 
another frustrating muse. He just can't figure her out - and he isn't the type 
that's used to not being able to figure things out. He likes to think he's in 
love with her, but sometimes he isn't certain... he doesn't really know what it's 
like to be in love. He never has been before. If anything is love, it's this, he 
thinks. But then again, he's never quite sure if he's just fooling himself and 
that some sort of deeper feeling will come along when he's grown up. He can't 
imagine their being any deeper feelings, but grown - ups always seem to think 
that 'boys' and 'girls' can't be in love. He's never had much reason to doubt 
things grown - ups say. The chords and words of a hit single from the early 
nineties flit through his mind... and he pauses in his musings to listen to the 
song. It's one he likes.

	when you were here before
	couldn't look you in the eye
	you're just like an angel
	your skin makes me cry
	you float like a feather
	in a beautiful world
	i wish i was special
	you're so fucking special
	but i'm a creep
	i'm a weirdo
	what the hell am i doing here
	i don't belong here...

      The second verse fades away almost before it begins. He thinks about it. 
He feels like a creep sometimes. And people have told him he's special, and that 
he's really something, but he steadfastly refuses to believe them. Even SHE has 
told him similar things. Does he love her? He thinks about her smile, her laugh,
her glare. Her glare is remarkably funny. He can't take more than a few seconds 
of being glared at by her without laughing. He thinks she looks strange when she 
isn't smiling, she's ALWAYS smiling. Is that love? He isn't sure. Can anyone be 
sure it's love? That's not for him to say. As the guitar solo from just before 
the third verse blasts into his mind, the image of her smiling face melts slowly
away, like the Cheshire Cat. Always smiling.