Anna Szilagyi is a wordsmith from Long Island, NY. She’s been writing since she was able to put crayon to paper. Her writing is full of passion and comes straight from her soul. She’s currently editing copy in NYC, but will eventually change the world. — Nancy Kash

Anna Szilagyi

Chronic Bored Face

This guy comes up to me at a party and he's like, "You look bored." We are in someone's backyard two blocks from my apartment and it is daytime, and four people just climbed onto the roof from the second-floor window and threw melons into the street. The normal people who live on this block, "townies," we all sneer, are like, "what the fuck is this," or maybe they're used to us by now, and I turn back to this stranger to convince him I'm having fun at this other stranger's fake barbecue. I play him the reels of infomercials streaming behind my eyelids, recite the encyclopedia articles I've memorized, like The Sexual Anatomy of Birds — "Oh, you've never heard of the cloaca?" I might tell him my ennui is deliberate, the cool charm I used to lure him here. In another version, I say, "Thank God you came over to save me from my boredom. You are the knight, the prince, the One." In this scene, I know the lines he expects me to recite by heart: "What would you do to make me not-bored?" semicolon, parenthesis twirl hair around finger smile, smile, smile

I wrote "Chronic Bored Face" during my last semester of college. Frustrated with the expectation that women must perform happiness, and also with the disrespectful way students treated our college town and its residents, the shiny exterior of undergraduate party culture had dulled. To dissect this specific moment, I imagined surreal and humorous versions of it, embracing my "bored" (or, you know, just living) default expression and giving the general "him" attention, though not the kind he wanted. My mother also went away to college in upstate New York and was known for her Irish exits from parties, deemed the "Kash Dash" after her last name.

Glass: A Journal of Poetry is published monthly by Glass Poetry Press.
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