The Girl is happy. The air, still warm on her lips, has the sharp after taste of Winter. The Earth tilts away from the sun. The days shorten. The Girl loves the changing of the seasons. She accepts the inevitably of time moving forward.
Looking back, this was a good summer. Every football game found the gang piled up in one place or another, rooting for ...whomever. But every night ended the same way: A slightly woozy crowd, each with a drink in hand, settling into the boiling Jacuzzi at Cy and Nova's. The Girl was pickling herself, alcohol on the inside-hot water on the outside. Even in the fog created by the rum and the steam, She is at peace. She is in love with this rambunctious crowd of crazies that She is privileged to call her friends.
Winter is coming. The Girl is happy.
Monday, November 29, 2004
The Girl is happy. Life has been pulling her in every direction, but She finally has a moment to herself.
Not that She wasn’t happy when life had her in its clutching grasp.
Seamus and Gabe decided to close the club. The police were becoming much too curious since Fat Bob cashed in his chips. As one last hurrah, they decided to throw a Halloween party.
Halloween is The Girl’s favorite holiday. She loves slipping into some other skin, pretending to be a witch or an angel or a demon. She loves celebrating the coming of winter. She feels blessed by taking part in the rituals of some long forgotten god. In her most secret heart, she is a pagan.
The Girl spent a week preparing for the Night. She dyed a column dress grass green. Tying a darker green cord around her waist and crossing it between her breasts, she looked like a Greek goddess. She sewed ribbon roses randomly about the front of the gown. A border of rosettes encircled the hem. The Girl manufactured a white picket fence crown. She tied her hair into knots and painted them red. Little butterflies lighted in her hair. Her sandals sported large roses and a ladybug. She doused herself in rose perfume. No one ever promised you a Rose Garden, but sometimes you get lucky!
All the work was worth it. Seamus and Gabe flung quiet a fling. Everyone made an appearance. Nova and Cy were, appropriately, Austin Powers and Dr. Evil, baby. And starring as Glenda the Good Witch: Coco, in his 6’4”, pink organza splendor. Able donned a habit as the very pregnant Sister Mary Ignoramus. Sean and Luke pimped out in big ‘fros, velvet suits, platform shoes, walking canes, and serious shades. Harley, very hot in dominatrix boots and something resembling a tiny police uniform, kept David, in an orange jumpsuit and leg irons, on a short leash. Frankie, Pinkie, Scott, Jimmy, Seamus and Gabe, The Boy and at least 60 other guest danced and drank and ate and played dress up all night long.
There is something very romantic about a room full of adults in masks playing charades. The Girl loves Halloween. Perhaps, because of this, the Girl is going to Hell. Until then, The Girl is happy.
Not that She wasn’t happy when life had her in its clutching grasp.
Seamus and Gabe decided to close the club. The police were becoming much too curious since Fat Bob cashed in his chips. As one last hurrah, they decided to throw a Halloween party.
Halloween is The Girl’s favorite holiday. She loves slipping into some other skin, pretending to be a witch or an angel or a demon. She loves celebrating the coming of winter. She feels blessed by taking part in the rituals of some long forgotten god. In her most secret heart, she is a pagan.
The Girl spent a week preparing for the Night. She dyed a column dress grass green. Tying a darker green cord around her waist and crossing it between her breasts, she looked like a Greek goddess. She sewed ribbon roses randomly about the front of the gown. A border of rosettes encircled the hem. The Girl manufactured a white picket fence crown. She tied her hair into knots and painted them red. Little butterflies lighted in her hair. Her sandals sported large roses and a ladybug. She doused herself in rose perfume. No one ever promised you a Rose Garden, but sometimes you get lucky!
All the work was worth it. Seamus and Gabe flung quiet a fling. Everyone made an appearance. Nova and Cy were, appropriately, Austin Powers and Dr. Evil, baby. And starring as Glenda the Good Witch: Coco, in his 6’4”, pink organza splendor. Able donned a habit as the very pregnant Sister Mary Ignoramus. Sean and Luke pimped out in big ‘fros, velvet suits, platform shoes, walking canes, and serious shades. Harley, very hot in dominatrix boots and something resembling a tiny police uniform, kept David, in an orange jumpsuit and leg irons, on a short leash. Frankie, Pinkie, Scott, Jimmy, Seamus and Gabe, The Boy and at least 60 other guest danced and drank and ate and played dress up all night long.
There is something very romantic about a room full of adults in masks playing charades. The Girl loves Halloween. Perhaps, because of this, the Girl is going to Hell. Until then, The Girl is happy.
Wednesday, November 17, 2004
The Girl is tired. Every weekend one of her friends bounces her and The Boy off to some new fun. She has much to tell: a trip to the beach with Sean and Luke, dinner with Able and Frankie, an engagement for Harley and David, many nights in the hot tub at Sy and Nova's, and a Halloween party at Seamus' Place. But to tell the stories, she would have to stop living them, and to do that, even for a moment would be unbareable.
But She sees a space coming up in her calendar. Every one is leaving town for a week, giving her time to breath. She has so much to tell you then!
But She sees a space coming up in her calendar. Every one is leaving town for a week, giving her time to breath. She has so much to tell you then!
Thursday, October 14, 2004
The Girl is broke. She has been hangin' at Seamus' place and she was on a winning streak. Then that fat man, whose name is Fat Bob, died right in front of her. Bad mojo. The winning came to an instant end.
She met Fat Bob the night she first discovered the gaming room at Gabe and Seamus' house. She watched as Seamus helped him up. He apparently has (or had) some sort of inner ear problem. Something about the cochlea not responding properly...Whatever... He was always fallin' down.
Everyone was at Seamus' every weekend: gambling with some of the most important people in town; sitting in some of the finest chairs ever made; drinking some of the strongest drinks ever made. Everyone was having fun.
The Girl realized that She had just been waiting for the game of Texas Hold 'em to come find her. A sharp mathematical mind and the uncanny ability to tell when She is being lied to makes her mad good at cards. The money fell down like rain. She won $7,563.00 in one month, more than She normally makes in four. The Girl was on fire, that is until Fat Bob died.
Fat Bob was a man who earned his name. He was about 5'6" and probably weighed 500 pounds, butt-ass naked. His skin was translucent and almost yellow. What hair he had was baby fine and a yellow three shades darker than his skin. It was as if he were the color of fat. However, Bob's most striking feature, besides his enormousness, was his eyes. They were the palest blue She had ever seen. His eyes were so pale, in fact, that it was hard to tell where his irises began. She tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to. The Girl had never seen him without a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other. Fat Bob was a heart attack on feet, very swollen, angry feet. But it wasn't his heart that got him, it was his inner ear.
Two Saturdays ago she was up $500. Gabe was the dealer. He is such a great guy, smart and charming in a boyish sort of way. Gabe is an expert poker player and it was his instruction (and a little luck) that was making The Girl rich. There were six people at the table. They had been playing for the better part of the night, when Fat Bob lumbered in. The chair let out a frightened little squeal when he sat down. Everyone nodded hello and he was dealt into the next hand. The Girl was given a five of clubs and a seven of clubs initially. She raised the original $20 ante to $50. The first burn revealed an eight of clubs. The Girl hoped that She wasn't sweating. She raised $25. A four of clubs came up. The Girl knew she was sweating and was concentrating on not looking as if She were concentrating. The bet went 'round the table. The pile of chips in the middle of the table was immense. The Girl was trying not to stare...At the chips, her cards, or Fat Bob's weirdly pale eyes. Gabe burned one and was about to deal what She knew was going to be the six of clubs when WHACK! Fat Bob lost his balance and keeled over. Now, Bob was always falling. His inner ear problem was a birth defect and he was pushing 50, so this was nothing new. However, this time instead of wobbling like a weeble, he fell face first onto the finely planed edge of the poker table. The table and Fat Bob's head cracked wide open. All Hell broke loose.
No one wanted to be caught in an illegal gaming place. No one wanted to be caught in an illegal gaming place with a gigantic fat guy lying dead in the middle of the floor. They scattered like roaches in the light.
The Boy, The Girl, Sean, and Harley stayed to help Seamus and Gabe with....The situation. While the men dragged Fat Bob upstairs, Harley and The Girl cleaned up. Cards, chips, money, blood were everywhere. Harley and The Girl talked about anything to keep from talking about the obvious.
It was around four a.m. when the room was clean, Fat Bob was upstairs, a believable story was hatched and the police were called.
The next night it was business as usual at Gabe and Seamus'. Everthing was the same but The Girl. Apparently watching a fat man die is bad luck, because She hasn't won a game since.
The Girl is broke. But She never liked Fat Bob, and although She would never say it out loud, The Girl is happy.
She met Fat Bob the night she first discovered the gaming room at Gabe and Seamus' house. She watched as Seamus helped him up. He apparently has (or had) some sort of inner ear problem. Something about the cochlea not responding properly...Whatever... He was always fallin' down.
Everyone was at Seamus' every weekend: gambling with some of the most important people in town; sitting in some of the finest chairs ever made; drinking some of the strongest drinks ever made. Everyone was having fun.
The Girl realized that She had just been waiting for the game of Texas Hold 'em to come find her. A sharp mathematical mind and the uncanny ability to tell when She is being lied to makes her mad good at cards. The money fell down like rain. She won $7,563.00 in one month, more than She normally makes in four. The Girl was on fire, that is until Fat Bob died.
Fat Bob was a man who earned his name. He was about 5'6" and probably weighed 500 pounds, butt-ass naked. His skin was translucent and almost yellow. What hair he had was baby fine and a yellow three shades darker than his skin. It was as if he were the color of fat. However, Bob's most striking feature, besides his enormousness, was his eyes. They were the palest blue She had ever seen. His eyes were so pale, in fact, that it was hard to tell where his irises began. She tried not to stare, but it was impossible not to. The Girl had never seen him without a drink in one hand and a cigar in the other. Fat Bob was a heart attack on feet, very swollen, angry feet. But it wasn't his heart that got him, it was his inner ear.
Two Saturdays ago she was up $500. Gabe was the dealer. He is such a great guy, smart and charming in a boyish sort of way. Gabe is an expert poker player and it was his instruction (and a little luck) that was making The Girl rich. There were six people at the table. They had been playing for the better part of the night, when Fat Bob lumbered in. The chair let out a frightened little squeal when he sat down. Everyone nodded hello and he was dealt into the next hand. The Girl was given a five of clubs and a seven of clubs initially. She raised the original $20 ante to $50. The first burn revealed an eight of clubs. The Girl hoped that She wasn't sweating. She raised $25. A four of clubs came up. The Girl knew she was sweating and was concentrating on not looking as if She were concentrating. The bet went 'round the table. The pile of chips in the middle of the table was immense. The Girl was trying not to stare...At the chips, her cards, or Fat Bob's weirdly pale eyes. Gabe burned one and was about to deal what She knew was going to be the six of clubs when WHACK! Fat Bob lost his balance and keeled over. Now, Bob was always falling. His inner ear problem was a birth defect and he was pushing 50, so this was nothing new. However, this time instead of wobbling like a weeble, he fell face first onto the finely planed edge of the poker table. The table and Fat Bob's head cracked wide open. All Hell broke loose.
No one wanted to be caught in an illegal gaming place. No one wanted to be caught in an illegal gaming place with a gigantic fat guy lying dead in the middle of the floor. They scattered like roaches in the light.
The Boy, The Girl, Sean, and Harley stayed to help Seamus and Gabe with....The situation. While the men dragged Fat Bob upstairs, Harley and The Girl cleaned up. Cards, chips, money, blood were everywhere. Harley and The Girl talked about anything to keep from talking about the obvious.
It was around four a.m. when the room was clean, Fat Bob was upstairs, a believable story was hatched and the police were called.
The next night it was business as usual at Gabe and Seamus'. Everthing was the same but The Girl. Apparently watching a fat man die is bad luck, because She hasn't won a game since.
The Girl is broke. But She never liked Fat Bob, and although She would never say it out loud, The Girl is happy.
Tuesday, September 28, 2004
Another storm is coming. The Girl is incredulous. She feels insignificant, as well. The world seems to be unaware of the people living on it. If it were aware, would 5 hurricanes strike Florida in one summer?
Maybe the world isn’t orbiting the sun, as the science guys profess. Maybe it is trapped in a snow globe, owned by a particularly cruel child, who shakes it up every chance he gets. He shakes and shakes and the waters swirl, creating great tides and eddies, storms and more storms. He watches the swirling waters, waiting for them to settle and then; another good shake. Hopefully he will grow tired of this game, lay us down, and go play with some other toy.
The Girl has been learning to play poker. It was quiet by accident that She was pulled into the game. She met a young man at a party. His name is Seamus Finnegan. He is as Irish as the name would lead you to believe. But he is not the red-headed, rosy checked leprechaun-ish sort of Irish. He is more the dark-haired, ship building, IRA, James Joyce-y sort of Irish: beautiful and brooding and too good to be true. She talked to Seamus for quiet a while. He is funny and intelligent. These are The Girl’s two favorite qualities. He explained that he and his partner Gabriel design and create custom furniture. She admires people who are of use (mechanics, bricklayers, house painters, etc.) Intrigued The Girl decided to visit their workshop at the first opportunity.
That opportunity came last Friday. She and The Boy were rearranging their library when they realized that they owned more book than case. They had a need for furniture. She remembered the dark Irish man and suggested that they go to his place to look over his wares. The Boy agreed and the very next moment they were standing in the midst of some of the most beautiful furniture She had ever seen. Some of the pieces were made of solid hardwoods: ash, cherry, maple, oak, pecan, rosewood, walnut, and poplar. Others were made of cedar, cypress, fir, or pine, all softwoods. No nail was to be seen. Every cabinet, chair, table, and bookcase was held together by mortise and tenon or tongue and groove joints. Some of the pieces were finished, some unfinished. All of them were amazing. After walking around the showcase for an hour, running her hand over the smooth surfaces, The Girl found and fell in love with a beautiful purple-heart bookshelf. The wood, a rich, deep purple, had been rubbed to a warm glow. The case is horizontally, rather than vertically, oriented. She knew exactly were this art would be displayed in her home. The Boy paid Seamus and worked out the details of delivery with Gabe. The three of them chatted for a while and The Girl continued to wander about admiring the furniture. While She was opening and closing the drawers of a particularly beautiful dresser, who should walk by but Pageen Harahan? The Girl sort of smiled at the mayor and then CRASH!
Everyone ran to the basement stairs to discover what had made the loud noise. Seamus went down the stairs while Gabe hemmed and hawed. The Girl just followed Seamus down stairs without thinking.
To her amazement the basement wasn’t full of tools and sawdust or even furniture. Instead it was a gaming room as impressive as anything in Las Vegas. Roulette wheels, and one-armed-bandits, keno, two blackjack tables, and two poker tables filled the cavernous room. Clouds of smoke wafted through the pools of light over each table. Along one wall was a mahogany bar, no doubt created by Seamus and Gabe, where people were purchasing cocktail from a red-headed bar tender. The room was packed with people and smelled of bourbon and expensive cigar smoke. The source of the crash, a very fat man, was lying on the floor at one of the poker tables. It appeared as if he had just keeled over.
While Seamus ran over to deal with the man lolling at the table, feet straight up in the air, The Girl took it all in. She didn’t even realize that Gabe was now beside her. “Now you know our secret.” He waited to see her reaction. She just smiled.
Turns out the furniture store is a front for a gaming room run by the Irish mafia, a group of which Seamus is a made man. Since learning this, She and The Boy have been hanging out at Seamus’ place. Gabe has been giving her lessons in poker. She left with $300 last Saturday. All of her friends are there every weekend, as well. David is supplying them with cigars, a boon for his cigar bar, Cubano del Cigarro.
Everybody is happy.
Maybe the world isn’t orbiting the sun, as the science guys profess. Maybe it is trapped in a snow globe, owned by a particularly cruel child, who shakes it up every chance he gets. He shakes and shakes and the waters swirl, creating great tides and eddies, storms and more storms. He watches the swirling waters, waiting for them to settle and then; another good shake. Hopefully he will grow tired of this game, lay us down, and go play with some other toy.
The Girl has been learning to play poker. It was quiet by accident that She was pulled into the game. She met a young man at a party. His name is Seamus Finnegan. He is as Irish as the name would lead you to believe. But he is not the red-headed, rosy checked leprechaun-ish sort of Irish. He is more the dark-haired, ship building, IRA, James Joyce-y sort of Irish: beautiful and brooding and too good to be true. She talked to Seamus for quiet a while. He is funny and intelligent. These are The Girl’s two favorite qualities. He explained that he and his partner Gabriel design and create custom furniture. She admires people who are of use (mechanics, bricklayers, house painters, etc.) Intrigued The Girl decided to visit their workshop at the first opportunity.
That opportunity came last Friday. She and The Boy were rearranging their library when they realized that they owned more book than case. They had a need for furniture. She remembered the dark Irish man and suggested that they go to his place to look over his wares. The Boy agreed and the very next moment they were standing in the midst of some of the most beautiful furniture She had ever seen. Some of the pieces were made of solid hardwoods: ash, cherry, maple, oak, pecan, rosewood, walnut, and poplar. Others were made of cedar, cypress, fir, or pine, all softwoods. No nail was to be seen. Every cabinet, chair, table, and bookcase was held together by mortise and tenon or tongue and groove joints. Some of the pieces were finished, some unfinished. All of them were amazing. After walking around the showcase for an hour, running her hand over the smooth surfaces, The Girl found and fell in love with a beautiful purple-heart bookshelf. The wood, a rich, deep purple, had been rubbed to a warm glow. The case is horizontally, rather than vertically, oriented. She knew exactly were this art would be displayed in her home. The Boy paid Seamus and worked out the details of delivery with Gabe. The three of them chatted for a while and The Girl continued to wander about admiring the furniture. While She was opening and closing the drawers of a particularly beautiful dresser, who should walk by but Pageen Harahan? The Girl sort of smiled at the mayor and then CRASH!
Everyone ran to the basement stairs to discover what had made the loud noise. Seamus went down the stairs while Gabe hemmed and hawed. The Girl just followed Seamus down stairs without thinking.
To her amazement the basement wasn’t full of tools and sawdust or even furniture. Instead it was a gaming room as impressive as anything in Las Vegas. Roulette wheels, and one-armed-bandits, keno, two blackjack tables, and two poker tables filled the cavernous room. Clouds of smoke wafted through the pools of light over each table. Along one wall was a mahogany bar, no doubt created by Seamus and Gabe, where people were purchasing cocktail from a red-headed bar tender. The room was packed with people and smelled of bourbon and expensive cigar smoke. The source of the crash, a very fat man, was lying on the floor at one of the poker tables. It appeared as if he had just keeled over.
While Seamus ran over to deal with the man lolling at the table, feet straight up in the air, The Girl took it all in. She didn’t even realize that Gabe was now beside her. “Now you know our secret.” He waited to see her reaction. She just smiled.
Turns out the furniture store is a front for a gaming room run by the Irish mafia, a group of which Seamus is a made man. Since learning this, She and The Boy have been hanging out at Seamus’ place. Gabe has been giving her lessons in poker. She left with $300 last Saturday. All of her friends are there every weekend, as well. David is supplying them with cigars, a boon for his cigar bar, Cubano del Cigarro.
Everybody is happy.
Thursday, September 09, 2004
The Girl is feeling dicked over. She made a purchase on the internet and was charged twice. Bastards!
She has decided to begin a month of self-discipline. From September 13th to October 15th, She is going to eat only healthy foods and only in appropriate amounts. She is going to the gym at least three times a week. She is going to Blog once a week. She is going to read a poem by a different poet every night before She goes to sleep. She is going to write a sonnet. She is going to do these things for just a month. Her reasoning being that anyone can do anything, endure anything, if they know it is going to end. At the end of the month, She will reassess the situation.
Why is She doing this? The reasons are endless. Here is a manageable list:
1. She finds pleasure in being strong.
2. Her doctor says it will help her control her blood glucose which is out of whack again.
3. Her writing could use work.
4. She wants to prove to herself that She can.
5. She is smart and funny and kind; a good cook and a good friend; a talented writer and a fair artist; a good teacher and a great deal of fun at a party...And the whole world says, "You are fat." She cannot change the world, but she can make them regret their pettiness.
6. Her mother-in-law asks, "So how is your diet?" The MIL is always suggesting that they diet, or share a salad for dinner, and once suggested that The Boy might be less of a jerk (back when he was) if She lost some weight.
7. She enjoys the feeling of denial in much the same way She enjoys the feeling of indulgence. They are two sides of the same coin.
8. On October 18th, She will be 37.
9. If you aren't growing, you are dying.
10. The Boy promises he will celebrate a month of self-discipline, too.
11. It is only a month.
She has decided to begin a month of self-discipline. From September 13th to October 15th, She is going to eat only healthy foods and only in appropriate amounts. She is going to the gym at least three times a week. She is going to Blog once a week. She is going to read a poem by a different poet every night before She goes to sleep. She is going to write a sonnet. She is going to do these things for just a month. Her reasoning being that anyone can do anything, endure anything, if they know it is going to end. At the end of the month, She will reassess the situation.
Why is She doing this? The reasons are endless. Here is a manageable list:
1. She finds pleasure in being strong.
2. Her doctor says it will help her control her blood glucose which is out of whack again.
3. Her writing could use work.
4. She wants to prove to herself that She can.
5. She is smart and funny and kind; a good cook and a good friend; a talented writer and a fair artist; a good teacher and a great deal of fun at a party...And the whole world says, "You are fat." She cannot change the world, but she can make them regret their pettiness.
6. Her mother-in-law asks, "So how is your diet?" The MIL is always suggesting that they diet, or share a salad for dinner, and once suggested that The Boy might be less of a jerk (back when he was) if She lost some weight.
7. She enjoys the feeling of denial in much the same way She enjoys the feeling of indulgence. They are two sides of the same coin.
8. On October 18th, She will be 37.
9. If you aren't growing, you are dying.
10. The Boy promises he will celebrate a month of self-discipline, too.
11. It is only a month.
Friday, August 20, 2004
The Girl has just returned from an interesting trip. Sean and Luke invited her and The Boy to go boating. It was wonderful and terrible and The Girl loved it.
When Sean suggested they go boating, The Girl felt honored. Because She tries to never take anyone or anything as a given, She is always surprised and happy when the people She loves love her back. Every time. She never assumes that She lives in someone’s head or that they think about her when She isn’t standing in front of them. How many of life’s sorrows have been created by people who believe that love is automatically a two way street? “If I love you then it must follow that you love me,” is a folly. Fortunately, She loves Sean and he loves her back.
The Girl checked the weather forecast everyday right up until the morning of the trip. All the weathermen predicted blue skies. Screw the weathermen. It was cloudy all the way to Lake Pedro. The foursome tried to convince themselves that it would blow over. On the two hour drive they chatted and laughed. They listened to some CDs Luke had just purchased. The Girl listened to the music and the chatter and stared out the window. Perhaps she is prejudiced, but Florida truly is sublime. The live oaks, draped in Spanish moss, formed a canopy over the road. Every thing was so green She could smell it. The ride there was great.
Once they launched the boat, it wouldn’t go into gear. Luke was jostling the gear shift. Luke was cursing the gear shift. Sean was standing on the dock waving good-bye as the boat drifted into the tall weeds. Luke jostled and cursed. Sean waved. The boat drifted. Then, right at the very last moment, the transmission fell into gear. They scooped Sean off the dock and ZOOOOOM out of the channel into the lake.
Lake Pedro is huge. It covers over 46,000 acres. However, it is shallow. The combination of huge and shallow (besides being terrible qualities in a man) make Lake Pedro very rough. If the slightest wind blows, the waves become white-caps. The wind was blowing that day, but it wasn’t slight. Therefore Lake Pedro was churning and choppy. It was trying to chew them up. And it began to rain.
Luke and The Boy put the top on and snapped the cover on the bow. They wrapped themselves in towels and zoomed across the lake toward their first destination, The Back-on Inn. The Back-on Inn is a little dive accessible by both land and water. It sits in the mouth of one of Lake Pedro’s many tributaries. From the upstairs porch, where they ate, one has a great view of the river and another place across the way. She enjoyed watching the boats come and go.
Lunch was yummy. She and Sean ordered grouper fingers (fancy fish sticks). Luke and The Boy had grouper sandwiches. The boys ordered beers, many beers to wash the fish down. They also shared catfish bites and fried mushrooms. The grouper fingers were good. Not too much breading and cooked just enough. Many places drown their fried food in breading to hide the taste of an inferior product. Then they over cook it to hide the taste of too much breading. The Back-on Inn did it just right. She felt like the third bear. They mushrooms were also wonderful. Prepared on site, they were crispy on the outside, juicy within.
While they ate and waited for the rain to subside, they talked some more. Luke is perhaps one of the funniest people alive. But it isn’t a loud, in-your-face, funny. He is droll and very, very intelligent. Sean is also funny. His humor, however, is more accessible. He could be a stand-up comedian. They were telling stories. The Boy was laughing so hard he was wheezing. The Girl loves this about The Boy. Her heart is too heavy to laugh out loud, even when things are laugh out loud funny. The Boy has a light heart. His heart acts as her buoy.
By the time the rain was light enough to be traveled through, they were all done eating and the boys were lightly toasted. They loaded up and headed back out on the lake. Luke was driving. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the boat on a plain, where it would ride on top of the waves and be smoother. It wasn’t happening. They would ride up on a wave and, BASH! down on the other side. Up, BASH! Up, BASH! Up, BASH!
(The Girl is [secretly] very bright. Nothing has ever been explained to her that she didn’t understand. She is sure that there are things She doesn’t know. However, with enough time and a willing teacher, She suspects there is nothing She couldn’t know. However, She is also [secretly] crazy and a little uncertain about the steadiness of the ground beneath her. As a result, She wastes all of her intelligence keeping her insanity at bay. Where would She be if She weren’t crazy? Where would She be if She weren’t smart?)
When Sean suggested they go boating, The Girl felt honored. Because She tries to never take anyone or anything as a given, She is always surprised and happy when the people She loves love her back. Every time. She never assumes that She lives in someone’s head or that they think about her when She isn’t standing in front of them. How many of life’s sorrows have been created by people who believe that love is automatically a two way street? “If I love you then it must follow that you love me,” is a folly. Fortunately, She loves Sean and he loves her back.
The Girl checked the weather forecast everyday right up until the morning of the trip. All the weathermen predicted blue skies. Screw the weathermen. It was cloudy all the way to Lake Pedro. The foursome tried to convince themselves that it would blow over. On the two hour drive they chatted and laughed. They listened to some CDs Luke had just purchased. The Girl listened to the music and the chatter and stared out the window. Perhaps she is prejudiced, but Florida truly is sublime. The live oaks, draped in Spanish moss, formed a canopy over the road. Every thing was so green She could smell it. The ride there was great.
Once they launched the boat, it wouldn’t go into gear. Luke was jostling the gear shift. Luke was cursing the gear shift. Sean was standing on the dock waving good-bye as the boat drifted into the tall weeds. Luke jostled and cursed. Sean waved. The boat drifted. Then, right at the very last moment, the transmission fell into gear. They scooped Sean off the dock and ZOOOOOM out of the channel into the lake.
Lake Pedro is huge. It covers over 46,000 acres. However, it is shallow. The combination of huge and shallow (besides being terrible qualities in a man) make Lake Pedro very rough. If the slightest wind blows, the waves become white-caps. The wind was blowing that day, but it wasn’t slight. Therefore Lake Pedro was churning and choppy. It was trying to chew them up. And it began to rain.
Luke and The Boy put the top on and snapped the cover on the bow. They wrapped themselves in towels and zoomed across the lake toward their first destination, The Back-on Inn. The Back-on Inn is a little dive accessible by both land and water. It sits in the mouth of one of Lake Pedro’s many tributaries. From the upstairs porch, where they ate, one has a great view of the river and another place across the way. She enjoyed watching the boats come and go.
Lunch was yummy. She and Sean ordered grouper fingers (fancy fish sticks). Luke and The Boy had grouper sandwiches. The boys ordered beers, many beers to wash the fish down. They also shared catfish bites and fried mushrooms. The grouper fingers were good. Not too much breading and cooked just enough. Many places drown their fried food in breading to hide the taste of an inferior product. Then they over cook it to hide the taste of too much breading. The Back-on Inn did it just right. She felt like the third bear. They mushrooms were also wonderful. Prepared on site, they were crispy on the outside, juicy within.
While they ate and waited for the rain to subside, they talked some more. Luke is perhaps one of the funniest people alive. But it isn’t a loud, in-your-face, funny. He is droll and very, very intelligent. Sean is also funny. His humor, however, is more accessible. He could be a stand-up comedian. They were telling stories. The Boy was laughing so hard he was wheezing. The Girl loves this about The Boy. Her heart is too heavy to laugh out loud, even when things are laugh out loud funny. The Boy has a light heart. His heart acts as her buoy.
By the time the rain was light enough to be traveled through, they were all done eating and the boys were lightly toasted. They loaded up and headed back out on the lake. Luke was driving. He was trying, unsuccessfully, to get the boat on a plain, where it would ride on top of the waves and be smoother. It wasn’t happening. They would ride up on a wave and, BASH! down on the other side. Up, BASH! Up, BASH! Up, BASH!
(The Girl is [secretly] very bright. Nothing has ever been explained to her that she didn’t understand. She is sure that there are things She doesn’t know. However, with enough time and a willing teacher, She suspects there is nothing She couldn’t know. However, She is also [secretly] crazy and a little uncertain about the steadiness of the ground beneath her. As a result, She wastes all of her intelligence keeping her insanity at bay. Where would She be if She weren’t crazy? Where would She be if She weren’t smart?)
That said:
The second law of thermodynamics states “That the entropy of the universe increases during any spontaneous process;” or “Energy spontaneously disperses from being localized to becoming spread out if it is not hindered;” or “qrev/T.” The chaos theory states that most systems in nature are aperiodic, meaning that no variable describing the state of the system undergoes a regular repetition of values.
WHICH MEANS: Shit falls apart and we have no way of predicting when or how it will choose to do so.
The boat, subject to the laws of the universe, fell apart. A little compartment, meant to act as an ice chest, but being used to store things no one wanted to get wet, fell apart. Everything got wet. The front windshield, meant to keep the falling rain from stabbing them like a million tiny daggers, fell apart. They got stabbed. It was crazy, but thrilling. (And a little reassuring, science being reliable and all.)
The boys stopped to fix the boat. The waves were rolling in, white edged and very high. The Girl lay on the stern. The sky was grey. The water was grey. Sometimes it was difficult to tell where one ended and the other began. As She rocked, The Girl remembered an art project from the third grade . The teacher asked them to create colleges. Mrs. Rooks gave them scraps of wrapping paper, newspaper, tissue paper, construction paper, magazines, scissors and glue. Every other kid was making happy pictures of sunny skies or kitties. The girl took a grey piece of construction paper and glued blue, black, purple, and white strips of tissue paper to it. She cut out the black outline of a boat and glued it to the middle of the page. It was beautiful. She remembers the teacher’s face when She turned it in, “This kid is smart, but crazy.” The Girl remembers looking into the teacher’s dull, serene face. It is her earliest memory of being special. Now She was on that boat under the tissue paper sky in the middle of the tissue paper sea. The Girl was happy.
The boys repaired the boat and they headed in. Sean apologized profusely, but they reassured him they had enjoyed the trip. The Girl really did. It was an adventure. The food was good, the company was better. Sunny days get all the glory. But sunny days are all the same. Rainy days are beautiful and unique.
On the ride home they listened to a comedian. They chatted and laughed. The Girl watched the landscape approach and disappear. The Girl was happy.
Tuesday, August 03, 2004
The Girl went back to work today. She cannot make herself care. She hates the way most people define themselves through their jobs. It is just a job. People confuse having a job with having work. Work is important. Work matters. A job matters in so much as the rent must be paid and it is necessary to eat. Some people, although She don't know any, manage to find meaningful work and get paid for doing it. But most people go to their jobs every day and think, "They are paying me for this, so it must be meaningful." And the more they are paid, the more special they feel. The Girl? She cannot make herself care.
She once thought of her job as meaningful. But She has come to see it as a job. Others there try to make Her feel guilty for not caring. For not giving up her life in exchange for her job. "This," She wants to shout," is not my life! It is merely paying for my life!" But that would require that She care.
That isn't to say She doesn't do a good job. But She remembers...This is a job.
More meaningful was her recent trip down the Coochalowithee. The Coochalowithee is a small spring fed river near her home. In the early part of the century, the river was used and abused by phosphate miners. The University of State (US) purchased it and cleaned it up in the 70s.
To help pay for the river's up keep, US charges $5 to rent a floatie and another $5 to ride the floatie down the river. The water is a constant 73 degrees, which is very cold when the ambient air is 90. As clear and smooth as glass, the little river winds through cypress knees and under oak trees, past sand hills and lime rock caves. The Girl, the Boy, and Sang Su recently made the 3 1/2 hour trek. They were joined by turtles, fish, and a single snake. Comerants, hawks, and cranes flew overhead. Little ducks splashed in the tall grass. Somewhere nearby a woodpecker hammered at a hollow tree. The Girl enjoyed being rocked and swirled by the river. She enjoyed talking to Sang or the Boy as the water brought them together. She enjoyed the silence when they drifted apart. The canopy of the trees was replaced by the glare of the sun as the river pushed them forward. The water was deep and then shallow and then deep again. The cold ofthe water and the warmth of the sun penetrated her body. Rocked in the cold, sunny womb of her floatie. Utter peace. What could mean more than this?
She once thought of her job as meaningful. But She has come to see it as a job. Others there try to make Her feel guilty for not caring. For not giving up her life in exchange for her job. "This," She wants to shout," is not my life! It is merely paying for my life!" But that would require that She care.
That isn't to say She doesn't do a good job. But She remembers...This is a job.
More meaningful was her recent trip down the Coochalowithee. The Coochalowithee is a small spring fed river near her home. In the early part of the century, the river was used and abused by phosphate miners. The University of State (US) purchased it and cleaned it up in the 70s.
To help pay for the river's up keep, US charges $5 to rent a floatie and another $5 to ride the floatie down the river. The water is a constant 73 degrees, which is very cold when the ambient air is 90. As clear and smooth as glass, the little river winds through cypress knees and under oak trees, past sand hills and lime rock caves. The Girl, the Boy, and Sang Su recently made the 3 1/2 hour trek. They were joined by turtles, fish, and a single snake. Comerants, hawks, and cranes flew overhead. Little ducks splashed in the tall grass. Somewhere nearby a woodpecker hammered at a hollow tree. The Girl enjoyed being rocked and swirled by the river. She enjoyed talking to Sang or the Boy as the water brought them together. She enjoyed the silence when they drifted apart. The canopy of the trees was replaced by the glare of the sun as the river pushed them forward. The water was deep and then shallow and then deep again. The cold ofthe water and the warmth of the sun penetrated her body. Rocked in the cold, sunny womb of her floatie. Utter peace. What could mean more than this?
Saturday, July 17, 2004
The Girl is tired of going to the doctor. Now the Doc has discovered hypoglycemia and ordered more tests. The good that comes of that? Well, now we know and prescription appetite suppressants. The Girl is a firm believer in better living through chemistry.
Yesterday, The Girl and The Boy ran errands. Running errands with Him makes Her feel like part of a team. Very normal. And normal is the way She has always wanted to feel. So while they were walking around Home Depot and the bank and the grocery store, no one noticed Her. She seemed like anyone else to everyone else. Her deepest fear has always been that people could look at Her and tell She was different from them. She always imagined that She wore a scarlet "w" for weird. But She must not. No one in the produce section noticed. The checkout guy rang up her coax cable without staring.
She loves the Boy for many things. But his ability to blend in is one of her favorites.
The Girl is invisible. The Girl is happy.
Yesterday, The Girl and The Boy ran errands. Running errands with Him makes Her feel like part of a team. Very normal. And normal is the way She has always wanted to feel. So while they were walking around Home Depot and the bank and the grocery store, no one noticed Her. She seemed like anyone else to everyone else. Her deepest fear has always been that people could look at Her and tell She was different from them. She always imagined that She wore a scarlet "w" for weird. But She must not. No one in the produce section noticed. The checkout guy rang up her coax cable without staring.
She loves the Boy for many things. But his ability to blend in is one of her favorites.
The Girl is invisible. The Girl is happy.
Thursday, July 01, 2004
Once again, the Girl is awake in the middle of the night. She has never been much of a sleeper. But just because She can't sleep, doesn't mean She doesn't want to sleep. She feels jangle-y, a low and steady hum emanating from the Girl herself keeps her awake.
This week has been eventful in an uneventful way. The Dr. hopes that She nicked a nerve rather than a tendon. He put her on steroids to speed nerve regeneration. Not working.
Harley started school this week. Her first lesson? City Bus 101. Harley had never ridden the bus. The Girl didn't own a car until She was 29. Bus riding is something She knows something about. They caught the bus, rode to the University of State (US), found Harley's classes, and then rode the bus to the mall. They hung out with David and then rode back.
Riding the bus brought back memories for the Girl. Some good and some bad. For a very long time the Girl was very poor. Not poor they way She is now (do I see Cher or go to Disney? I can't do both), but genuinely poor (do I eat or pay the utility bill? I can't do both). She spent years right on the edge of desperation and even fell off a time or two. She lived in one room of a huge, old Victorian for years. There were anywhere from 11 to 15 other people living there at any given time. All of them in the same boat.
She had no TV, no phone, no car, no radio. She sold her plasma, volunteered at the dental school to get her teeth cleaned. She once stole a can of tuna and shared it with her cat.
That said, that time in her life was also one of the happiest. When you have nothing you have nothing to loose. She hadn't signed any contracts then , professionally or privately, and so could leave, her job or her lover, when She chose. All of her time was her own. She went to the library. She paid for one movie and snuck into every movie playing that day. She hung out at coffee shops and used book stores. She volunteered at the soup kitchen, because it reminded her that She didn't have it so bad. She visited consignment shops, trying on vintage dresses. She visited various churches, trying on different gods. She overcame her fear of the dark. She made good friends. And let them slip away, because she wasn't holding on to anything. She couldn't afford to.
She does, however, remember one friend. A boy, he had dark, curly hair and wore thick square glasses. He was handsome in a smart, quiet way. He lived in the room next to her in the big house. Most of the time all the conversations there were about food, because it was so scarce. Often one housemate would steal food from another. The Girl would come home to sometime find her food missing and go to bed with nothing to eat. One day this boy (was his name Dave?) received a package from his grandmother. The Girl laid it on his bed when the UPS guy delivered it. She had forgotten all about it when she heard him calling out for anyone who was at home to meet him on the front porch. She, a stripper named Alicia, and a guy the Girl had never seen before sat out on the wide front steps of the house, curious. Out Dave came, carrying a plate heaping with avocados! He passed the plate around and the four of them ate and talked and laughed. It was a beautiful day, hot but not sticky. A breeze whipped around the house to cool them and chase away the flies. Sunlight freckled the steps and their faces after passing through the pear trees in the yard.
That was over 15 years ago and the Girl can still vividly recall that meal and the dark haired boy's act of selflessness.
This week has been eventful in an uneventful way. The Dr. hopes that She nicked a nerve rather than a tendon. He put her on steroids to speed nerve regeneration. Not working.
Harley started school this week. Her first lesson? City Bus 101. Harley had never ridden the bus. The Girl didn't own a car until She was 29. Bus riding is something She knows something about. They caught the bus, rode to the University of State (US), found Harley's classes, and then rode the bus to the mall. They hung out with David and then rode back.
Riding the bus brought back memories for the Girl. Some good and some bad. For a very long time the Girl was very poor. Not poor they way She is now (do I see Cher or go to Disney? I can't do both), but genuinely poor (do I eat or pay the utility bill? I can't do both). She spent years right on the edge of desperation and even fell off a time or two. She lived in one room of a huge, old Victorian for years. There were anywhere from 11 to 15 other people living there at any given time. All of them in the same boat.
She had no TV, no phone, no car, no radio. She sold her plasma, volunteered at the dental school to get her teeth cleaned. She once stole a can of tuna and shared it with her cat.
That said, that time in her life was also one of the happiest. When you have nothing you have nothing to loose. She hadn't signed any contracts then , professionally or privately, and so could leave, her job or her lover, when She chose. All of her time was her own. She went to the library. She paid for one movie and snuck into every movie playing that day. She hung out at coffee shops and used book stores. She volunteered at the soup kitchen, because it reminded her that She didn't have it so bad. She visited consignment shops, trying on vintage dresses. She visited various churches, trying on different gods. She overcame her fear of the dark. She made good friends. And let them slip away, because she wasn't holding on to anything. She couldn't afford to.
She does, however, remember one friend. A boy, he had dark, curly hair and wore thick square glasses. He was handsome in a smart, quiet way. He lived in the room next to her in the big house. Most of the time all the conversations there were about food, because it was so scarce. Often one housemate would steal food from another. The Girl would come home to sometime find her food missing and go to bed with nothing to eat. One day this boy (was his name Dave?) received a package from his grandmother. The Girl laid it on his bed when the UPS guy delivered it. She had forgotten all about it when she heard him calling out for anyone who was at home to meet him on the front porch. She, a stripper named Alicia, and a guy the Girl had never seen before sat out on the wide front steps of the house, curious. Out Dave came, carrying a plate heaping with avocados! He passed the plate around and the four of them ate and talked and laughed. It was a beautiful day, hot but not sticky. A breeze whipped around the house to cool them and chase away the flies. Sunlight freckled the steps and their faces after passing through the pear trees in the yard.
That was over 15 years ago and the Girl can still vividly recall that meal and the dark haired boy's act of selflessness.
Tuesday, June 15, 2004
The Girl is happy. Frightened, but happy. She went to the doctor today and discovered that in her clumsiness, she may have severed a tendon in her left hand. She doesn't need x-rays or orthopedic specialists to tell her this. She knows the back of her hand like...well you know. She will visit said specialist Thursday. He will poke and prod and say, "Well you seem to have severed a tendon." Why does she need people on the outside of her to tell her how her insides are working? Just take her word for it and fix the damn thing!
The doctor was also perplexed by the Girl's unexplained hives. So, the doctor is also sending Her to a immunologist. He will poke and prod and say, "Why you have very sensitive skin which seems to be worsened by stress." She will smile while big red blotches bloom all over her arms and legs. He will send Her to an even more special specialist, who will poke and prod and scratch his head while She scratches hers. The Girl has grown accustomed to the itchy red whelps. They act as an early warning system, telling Her to run away from things which irritate Her. Also, they often serve as her only excuse for escape. What will she tell the irritating if the specialist cures her?
And the doctor gave Her the depressing news that She gained 7 pounds while in New Orleans.
So flustered was She by the doctor's 1,2, 3 whammy, that She had a blank roll of film developed. And She dropped a huge glass lid onto the floor. It shattered with such ferociousness that She found glass on the counter and behind a closed door.
Why then you ask is She happy? 3 reasons.
1. This weekend was Luke's birthday. Everyone went to The Chinese Laundry for dinner. Dinner was good, but the company was better. The next day, Sean and Luke took Her, The Boy, Harley, and David out on their boat. It was such fun. She is so lucky to be a part of her circle of friends. They are funny, smart, and just plain good people. Some times She loves them so much that She hurts when She thinks about it. The Girl cannot imagine a time when they won't all be friends. But She doesn't take anything for granted and savors each and every moment. She tries to be a good friend back. She is truly grateful.
2. The Boy. He loves Her. She trusts Him enough to tell Him that She is afraid. She gets crazy and He stays and rides the crazy out with her. And because she knows He means it, His staying is always enough.
3. She received a fortune cookie at the end of dinner tonight. She ate the cookie. She is very superstitious and believes that your fortune won't come true if you don't eat the cookie before you read the little slip of destiny. She uncrumpled hers: "Today is a good day." What more did She need?
The doctor was also perplexed by the Girl's unexplained hives. So, the doctor is also sending Her to a immunologist. He will poke and prod and say, "Why you have very sensitive skin which seems to be worsened by stress." She will smile while big red blotches bloom all over her arms and legs. He will send Her to an even more special specialist, who will poke and prod and scratch his head while She scratches hers. The Girl has grown accustomed to the itchy red whelps. They act as an early warning system, telling Her to run away from things which irritate Her. Also, they often serve as her only excuse for escape. What will she tell the irritating if the specialist cures her?
And the doctor gave Her the depressing news that She gained 7 pounds while in New Orleans.
So flustered was She by the doctor's 1,2, 3 whammy, that She had a blank roll of film developed. And She dropped a huge glass lid onto the floor. It shattered with such ferociousness that She found glass on the counter and behind a closed door.
Why then you ask is She happy? 3 reasons.
1. This weekend was Luke's birthday. Everyone went to The Chinese Laundry for dinner. Dinner was good, but the company was better. The next day, Sean and Luke took Her, The Boy, Harley, and David out on their boat. It was such fun. She is so lucky to be a part of her circle of friends. They are funny, smart, and just plain good people. Some times She loves them so much that She hurts when She thinks about it. The Girl cannot imagine a time when they won't all be friends. But She doesn't take anything for granted and savors each and every moment. She tries to be a good friend back. She is truly grateful.
2. The Boy. He loves Her. She trusts Him enough to tell Him that She is afraid. She gets crazy and He stays and rides the crazy out with her. And because she knows He means it, His staying is always enough.
3. She received a fortune cookie at the end of dinner tonight. She ate the cookie. She is very superstitious and believes that your fortune won't come true if you don't eat the cookie before you read the little slip of destiny. She uncrumpled hers: "Today is a good day." What more did She need?
Tuesday, June 08, 2004
The Girl has just returned from New Orleans, The Crescent City, The Big Easy....She enjoyed herself. She and The Boy went there to celebrate their first year of marriage. It has been a good year and, hormonal imbalances aside, The Girl is happy.
She loves going out of town with The Boy. And not for the reasons you would imagine. One city is, give or take a little, just like any other city to Her. She loves going out of town with The Boy, because He is transformed when He is out of town. The further away from home He gets, the lighter He becomes. As if He were escaping the gravity of Planet Worry. Blast off from Cape Couch and circle the distant moons of San Francisco or New York or New Orleans...But sadly They must always return, jettisoning their happiness in the atmosphere of looming Mondays.
But New Orleans was fun while it lasted.
They ate at Brennan's (the inventors of Bananas Foster.) Brennan's waiters are professional waiters. Waiting tables is not what they are doing until they can do something else. It shows. The Girl loved their elegance and timing and charm and efficiency. They appear out of no where do exactly what needs to be done and then disappear again. They wear tuxedos.
The Boy and The Girl also ate at Dickie Brennan's Bourbon Seafood (owned by the younger Brennan.) The Girl wore her smallest dress to dinner. A pale orange halter dress, it was little girl sherbert-y sweet and full-blown woman sexy. Vunerable and delicious, She tottered around in astoundingly high heels. The humidity left her no choice but to wear her hair curly and wild. A plastic orange bracelet encircled her wrist. She wore Watermelon flavored Lip Smackers and nothing else-at all. This added up to something no boy can look away from, someone who appears to be both a virgin and a whore. For the first time in a long time she felt beautiful. Boys turned to watch her walk by. The Boy mentioned this. She asked if he was bothered by it. No, he liked it. When they sat down at dinner, heads turned. She even caught one of the chefs staring from the kitchen. She laughed and waved. He smiled and sheepishly waved back. A long time ago She had forgotten that She was pretty and therefore ceased to be. That night she remembered.
She loves going out of town with The Boy. And not for the reasons you would imagine. One city is, give or take a little, just like any other city to Her. She loves going out of town with The Boy, because He is transformed when He is out of town. The further away from home He gets, the lighter He becomes. As if He were escaping the gravity of Planet Worry. Blast off from Cape Couch and circle the distant moons of San Francisco or New York or New Orleans...But sadly They must always return, jettisoning their happiness in the atmosphere of looming Mondays.
But New Orleans was fun while it lasted.
They ate at Brennan's (the inventors of Bananas Foster.) Brennan's waiters are professional waiters. Waiting tables is not what they are doing until they can do something else. It shows. The Girl loved their elegance and timing and charm and efficiency. They appear out of no where do exactly what needs to be done and then disappear again. They wear tuxedos.
The Boy and The Girl also ate at Dickie Brennan's Bourbon Seafood (owned by the younger Brennan.) The Girl wore her smallest dress to dinner. A pale orange halter dress, it was little girl sherbert-y sweet and full-blown woman sexy. Vunerable and delicious, She tottered around in astoundingly high heels. The humidity left her no choice but to wear her hair curly and wild. A plastic orange bracelet encircled her wrist. She wore Watermelon flavored Lip Smackers and nothing else-at all. This added up to something no boy can look away from, someone who appears to be both a virgin and a whore. For the first time in a long time she felt beautiful. Boys turned to watch her walk by. The Boy mentioned this. She asked if he was bothered by it. No, he liked it. When they sat down at dinner, heads turned. She even caught one of the chefs staring from the kitchen. She laughed and waved. He smiled and sheepishly waved back. A long time ago She had forgotten that She was pretty and therefore ceased to be. That night she remembered.
Thursday, May 20, 2004
The Girl is bereft. She has a job that requires nothing of her but takes everything. There is nothing of her left. Her self was stolen by needy children, unnecessary faculty meetings, pushy parents, stupid colleagues, and her own disorganization.
Today was her last day for a long while. Now, she sits still in the quiet house, listening to the noises that stir in the silence. She hears her own shallow breaths coming rapidly. A neighbor is watching TV. The drone of the newscaster makes it through the walls of the tiny apartment. The air-conditioner hums. She listens. Her breathing slows. A bee slams himself repeatedly into the nearby window: Bzzz, thump, bzzz, thump. The tinkling of a wind chime accompanies the bee's suicidal dance. The air-conditioner coughs and sputters and goes quiet. Her breathing deepens. Darkness has crept into the corners of the room. She listens. Evening brings with it new sounds. Tree frogs burp. Leaves shake. A door slams. Laughter floats in from far away, barely audible. The Girl sighs.
She needs to sleep. The Girl is spent.
Today was her last day for a long while. Now, she sits still in the quiet house, listening to the noises that stir in the silence. She hears her own shallow breaths coming rapidly. A neighbor is watching TV. The drone of the newscaster makes it through the walls of the tiny apartment. The air-conditioner hums. She listens. Her breathing slows. A bee slams himself repeatedly into the nearby window: Bzzz, thump, bzzz, thump. The tinkling of a wind chime accompanies the bee's suicidal dance. The air-conditioner coughs and sputters and goes quiet. Her breathing deepens. Darkness has crept into the corners of the room. She listens. Evening brings with it new sounds. Tree frogs burp. Leaves shake. A door slams. Laughter floats in from far away, barely audible. The Girl sighs.
She needs to sleep. The Girl is spent.
Tuesday, May 11, 2004
The Girl is depressed. She "suffers from depression." What a stupid phrase! Are there people somewhere who enjoy depression? "Hey, Mark, I've been feeling depressed lately, you wanna have a party?"
She goes on about her life. Goes to work. Goes out with friends. Makes love to The Boy. Cooks dinner. But all of it has lost its flavor somehow, as if She had an emotional cold.
The Girl has been here before. She knows she isn't sad. There is no cause. She is just blue. They offered to medicate Her, once. She was so hopped up she nearly freaked out. Anti-depressants were like speed, with none of the pleasant side effects.
So The Girl is depressed. This, too, shall pass.
She goes on about her life. Goes to work. Goes out with friends. Makes love to The Boy. Cooks dinner. But all of it has lost its flavor somehow, as if She had an emotional cold.
The Girl has been here before. She knows she isn't sad. There is no cause. She is just blue. They offered to medicate Her, once. She was so hopped up she nearly freaked out. Anti-depressants were like speed, with none of the pleasant side effects.
So The Girl is depressed. This, too, shall pass.
Tuesday, April 27, 2004
The Girl is swamped, by work, by social obligations, by housework, by the little details and minutiae of living. She feels frazzled. So Saturday...She slept. She woke up at 6:30, her usual time. However, she did a very unusual thing and laid down on the couch and slept until 11:30. She woke up, ate and went back to sleep. She got out of bed at 6:30, ran an errand, and was back in bed by 9.
She doesn't understand what all that sleepin' was about. Generally, she sleeps very little. Strange thing is: She is still tired.
Maybe the cause is all the running about she has done of late. Weekend before last she went to Pinky & Coco's for Happy Hour. Happy Hour is like a party, but more casual. There are fewer people at Happy Hour, the hosts are less formal. Everything is toned down a notch, except for the fun.
The Girl let loose. She drank too much, but not too, too much. She spent the evening talking to Abel and Frankie. They are both sweet guys. They just moved into their new home. The responsibility and joy made them hyper-? Well hyper-themselves. Like everything was ratcheted up a notch.
She feels a strong connection to Abel. He is funny, naughty, and cool, but that is not it what draws her to him. He felt instantly like family. She feels as if she has known him for a really long time. He smells familiar. And Frankie is so laid back and just so nice. (That is a terrible way to describe someone, but it is so true. People have sucked all the joy out of the word by over using it. But nice is a good thing and despite its overuse as a word, a rare thing.) She likes them.
Other people were there: a couple she didn't know and still doesn't, Nora a friend of Coco's, Sean, and Harley & David.
Abel and The Boy, after a few rounds, pulled all the alcohol in the house out, made a mixer run, and proceeded to play mad scientists. Every 15 minutes or so, Abel would emerge from the kitchen carrying little shots of poison. Everyone kept drinking. (The Boy, creator of the smoking little cups of ?, wasn't drinking. He is a strange, strange man.)
After many different sips of many different noxious concoctions, someone suggested HP. So The Boy and Pinky, both of whom were sober, loaded their cars down with drunken friends and headed over. Harley & David, ever responsible, went home. Everyone else went to HP and drank some more. They danced and talked and had a fine time. The evening ended back where it started at Pinky & Coco's. Pinky made every one breakfast. The Girl was spent. The Girl was happy.
An alarm sounds. The outside world calls, pulling The Girl from her thoughts....
She doesn't understand what all that sleepin' was about. Generally, she sleeps very little. Strange thing is: She is still tired.
Maybe the cause is all the running about she has done of late. Weekend before last she went to Pinky & Coco's for Happy Hour. Happy Hour is like a party, but more casual. There are fewer people at Happy Hour, the hosts are less formal. Everything is toned down a notch, except for the fun.
The Girl let loose. She drank too much, but not too, too much. She spent the evening talking to Abel and Frankie. They are both sweet guys. They just moved into their new home. The responsibility and joy made them hyper-? Well hyper-themselves. Like everything was ratcheted up a notch.
She feels a strong connection to Abel. He is funny, naughty, and cool, but that is not it what draws her to him. He felt instantly like family. She feels as if she has known him for a really long time. He smells familiar. And Frankie is so laid back and just so nice. (That is a terrible way to describe someone, but it is so true. People have sucked all the joy out of the word by over using it. But nice is a good thing and despite its overuse as a word, a rare thing.) She likes them.
Other people were there: a couple she didn't know and still doesn't, Nora a friend of Coco's, Sean, and Harley & David.
Abel and The Boy, after a few rounds, pulled all the alcohol in the house out, made a mixer run, and proceeded to play mad scientists. Every 15 minutes or so, Abel would emerge from the kitchen carrying little shots of poison. Everyone kept drinking. (The Boy, creator of the smoking little cups of ?, wasn't drinking. He is a strange, strange man.)
After many different sips of many different noxious concoctions, someone suggested HP. So The Boy and Pinky, both of whom were sober, loaded their cars down with drunken friends and headed over. Harley & David, ever responsible, went home. Everyone else went to HP and drank some more. They danced and talked and had a fine time. The evening ended back where it started at Pinky & Coco's. Pinky made every one breakfast. The Girl was spent. The Girl was happy.
An alarm sounds. The outside world calls, pulling The Girl from her thoughts....
Friday, April 16, 2004
The Girl is lucky. She was listening to the radio, was caller number ten, and is going to New York. What fun.
She has been having much fun of late. She and The Boy went to Coco and Pinky's last weekend. For happy hour. They had a wonderful relaxing time.
Excitement, and the fact that she is running late, stops The Girl from having time to reflect on last weekend or on her up coming trip. When she is in a quiet place she will tell everyone everything.
She has been having much fun of late. She and The Boy went to Coco and Pinky's last weekend. For happy hour. They had a wonderful relaxing time.
Excitement, and the fact that she is running late, stops The Girl from having time to reflect on last weekend or on her up coming trip. When she is in a quiet place she will tell everyone everything.
Wednesday, April 07, 2004
The Girl is exhausted. Daylight savings time. Whose idea was that? It sucks. The Girl has always had a hard time sleeping. Her sleep patterns are cyclical, like the moon, or the seasons, or her period. They are connected to the Earth and her girl energy. Linear time is a man made construct; some boy thing being imposed upon her. And as if making her live by the tyranny of tick-tock alarm clocks wasn’t bad enough, twice a year they slide everything around and just ruin The Girl. Will she never sleep? Will she ever sleep? (How can those two sentences mean the same thing?)
The weekend was good. The Girl went to dinner with Sang Su the world famous grammarian/acupuncturist. Wielder of the English language by day, wielder of needles by night. She is a college professor at the University of State. Her fame is derived from her work as an acupuncturist. She doesn’t really wield needles, but grows mugwort, also know as moxa. It is an herb that is burned and used in acupuncture. She grows such a powerful variety of the medicinal plant in her greenhouse that people fly in from China to take cuttings and learn her cultivation techniques.
Dinner was fun. Sang is a wonderfully funny and a great friend. Dinner with her is always sort of crazy. They went to a local dive, called “The Dive.” They had dinner and drinks and drinks and dessert and drinks. They ran into their friend Frenchy. Frenchy is an itinerant cartoonist. So French, Sang and The Girl stayed up late into the night gibbering in booze soaked gibber. It was fun. The Girl remembered being young and free of cares.
The next morning The Girl and The Boy went to Ybor City with Harley and David. They stayed in a nice hotel. It had two swimming pools and two hot tubs. The four friends swam and soaked before heading off to dinner. Dinner was at The Columbia, the oldest restaurant in Florida. They ate a little of everything and washed it down with Sangria. While having dinner they watched the Flamenco dancers. The Girl loved their attitude. She loved the similarities between the dancing and a street fight: backs arched, chests out, snapping, slapping their own bodies, circling one another, loud contact, moving away. So graceful and precise. David likened it to a bull fight, the sway of the dancers’ skirts mimicking the torero’s capote. OLE!
The next day they went to the Florida Aquarium and toured a battleship. It was fun and relaxing. The aquarium is always cool. (Swim little fishies.) The battleship was very strange and magical. It was definitely a battleship. The four of them crawled down into hers belly and walked all over her decks. It was used in battle at some time. Now it was acting as a museum by allowing landlubbers to experience the claustrophobic workings of a war machine. The Girl remembered her grandfather who had served on just such a ship during WW II. She admired him all the more after the tour.
However, the ship seems to have been used most recently as a home, not a museum. The Girl knows this because The Boy opened every door that wasn’t marked “Don’t Open.” It was strangely out of character for him and The Girl liked it. She was tantalized to look at this person she was so familiar with and not recognize him. “Who is this Boy breaking all the rules?” He made her hot with his mischievousness.
Later that day The Couple, Harley, and David returned to Ybor for lunch. They ate at a Greek restaurant. The food was great. The Girl knows now why most Greeks are fat.
Then it was home again, home again…..and Daylight Savings Time. It sucks.
The Girl and The Boy are going to Pinky and Coco’s this weekend. The Couple love them very much. They are funny, cool, smart, and crazy. They throw the best parties ever. Pinky and Coco are also the politest people. They are gentlemen in a world desperately in need of manners. The Girl feels so at home with them…relaxed and yet refined. They are having some people over for cocktails and invited The Girl and The Boy. It is a testament to Pinky and Coco’s coolness that The Girl feels so chosen and special to have received an invitation.
The Girl hopes to sleep sometime between now and then.
The weekend was good. The Girl went to dinner with Sang Su the world famous grammarian/acupuncturist. Wielder of the English language by day, wielder of needles by night. She is a college professor at the University of State. Her fame is derived from her work as an acupuncturist. She doesn’t really wield needles, but grows mugwort, also know as moxa. It is an herb that is burned and used in acupuncture. She grows such a powerful variety of the medicinal plant in her greenhouse that people fly in from China to take cuttings and learn her cultivation techniques.
Dinner was fun. Sang is a wonderfully funny and a great friend. Dinner with her is always sort of crazy. They went to a local dive, called “The Dive.” They had dinner and drinks and drinks and dessert and drinks. They ran into their friend Frenchy. Frenchy is an itinerant cartoonist. So French, Sang and The Girl stayed up late into the night gibbering in booze soaked gibber. It was fun. The Girl remembered being young and free of cares.
The next morning The Girl and The Boy went to Ybor City with Harley and David. They stayed in a nice hotel. It had two swimming pools and two hot tubs. The four friends swam and soaked before heading off to dinner. Dinner was at The Columbia, the oldest restaurant in Florida. They ate a little of everything and washed it down with Sangria. While having dinner they watched the Flamenco dancers. The Girl loved their attitude. She loved the similarities between the dancing and a street fight: backs arched, chests out, snapping, slapping their own bodies, circling one another, loud contact, moving away. So graceful and precise. David likened it to a bull fight, the sway of the dancers’ skirts mimicking the torero’s capote. OLE!
The next day they went to the Florida Aquarium and toured a battleship. It was fun and relaxing. The aquarium is always cool. (Swim little fishies.) The battleship was very strange and magical. It was definitely a battleship. The four of them crawled down into hers belly and walked all over her decks. It was used in battle at some time. Now it was acting as a museum by allowing landlubbers to experience the claustrophobic workings of a war machine. The Girl remembered her grandfather who had served on just such a ship during WW II. She admired him all the more after the tour.
However, the ship seems to have been used most recently as a home, not a museum. The Girl knows this because The Boy opened every door that wasn’t marked “Don’t Open.” It was strangely out of character for him and The Girl liked it. She was tantalized to look at this person she was so familiar with and not recognize him. “Who is this Boy breaking all the rules?” He made her hot with his mischievousness.
Later that day The Couple, Harley, and David returned to Ybor for lunch. They ate at a Greek restaurant. The food was great. The Girl knows now why most Greeks are fat.
Then it was home again, home again…..and Daylight Savings Time. It sucks.
The Girl and The Boy are going to Pinky and Coco’s this weekend. The Couple love them very much. They are funny, cool, smart, and crazy. They throw the best parties ever. Pinky and Coco are also the politest people. They are gentlemen in a world desperately in need of manners. The Girl feels so at home with them…relaxed and yet refined. They are having some people over for cocktails and invited The Girl and The Boy. It is a testament to Pinky and Coco’s coolness that The Girl feels so chosen and special to have received an invitation.
The Girl hopes to sleep sometime between now and then.
Saturday, March 27, 2004
The Girl is recovering. What she thought was pollen, turned out to be bacteria. She had pneumonia. So many days and chemicals later, she is moving and breathing.
This was a good week, bacterial pneumonia aside. The Girl and her mother had a long talk. They said things which needed to be said. Things that were hard to say, but steeped in love and a deep respect of the other's struggle. Things they needed to unburden themselves of, unburden the other of. The Girl feels lighter.
Unable to eat all week, She is lighter. How sad that three people commented on the fact that She had lost some weight. Everyone knew The Girl was sick. The world is sick in the head about size. If it isn't a health issue, why aren't people allowed to come in various shapes and sizes? Maybe that is why tattoos and piercings and other body modifications are so prevalent today. They are humanity's last grasp at saying, "Look at me! I am different. I am unique. I matter." But people continue diet, and dye, and go under the knife in an effort to become perfect...ly boring.
The Girl decided her lungs weren't up for the fresh air of camping. So she has free time. She and The Boy are going to a friend's BBQ, today. They are lucky to have great friends. Funny, warm, intelligent souls. Today will be a good day.
The Girl is happy.
This was a good week, bacterial pneumonia aside. The Girl and her mother had a long talk. They said things which needed to be said. Things that were hard to say, but steeped in love and a deep respect of the other's struggle. Things they needed to unburden themselves of, unburden the other of. The Girl feels lighter.
Unable to eat all week, She is lighter. How sad that three people commented on the fact that She had lost some weight. Everyone knew The Girl was sick. The world is sick in the head about size. If it isn't a health issue, why aren't people allowed to come in various shapes and sizes? Maybe that is why tattoos and piercings and other body modifications are so prevalent today. They are humanity's last grasp at saying, "Look at me! I am different. I am unique. I matter." But people continue diet, and dye, and go under the knife in an effort to become perfect...ly boring.
The Girl decided her lungs weren't up for the fresh air of camping. So she has free time. She and The Boy are going to a friend's BBQ, today. They are lucky to have great friends. Funny, warm, intelligent souls. Today will be a good day.
The Girl is happy.
Monday, March 22, 2004
The Girl isn't feeling well. Funny...Spring which brings with it the promise of so many things also brings with it stuffed up heads, runny noses, headaches, and a hacking cough. Pollen, it's for the bees. She is tired of being tired.
The Girl isn't working today. Her job requires all of her and right now, she isn't all here. She will see the doctor later. Now she is sleeping.
The Boy went out of town this weekend. Some sporting event called him away. The Girl stayed home and slept. She has been sleeping on the couch all week, because she is ill. She misses The Boy: misses talking to him; misses him sleeping in the bed beside her; misses having dinner with him.
Next weekend, they are going camping. They have already reserved a site near a river fed by a spring. Hopefully, the weather will be mild. If so, The Girl will go swimming. She enjoys the shock of the cold springs and the warmth of drying out again. They are renting a canoe. It will be fun to be in the sun, in the water. Maybe they will take the camera. The Boy is an excellent photographer. They are definitely not taking a TV and no phone. That means time to read and to think. She is looking forward to the trip.
The Girl isn't working today. Her job requires all of her and right now, she isn't all here. She will see the doctor later. Now she is sleeping.
The Boy went out of town this weekend. Some sporting event called him away. The Girl stayed home and slept. She has been sleeping on the couch all week, because she is ill. She misses The Boy: misses talking to him; misses him sleeping in the bed beside her; misses having dinner with him.
Next weekend, they are going camping. They have already reserved a site near a river fed by a spring. Hopefully, the weather will be mild. If so, The Girl will go swimming. She enjoys the shock of the cold springs and the warmth of drying out again. They are renting a canoe. It will be fun to be in the sun, in the water. Maybe they will take the camera. The Boy is an excellent photographer. They are definitely not taking a TV and no phone. That means time to read and to think. She is looking forward to the trip.
Saturday, March 13, 2004
The Girl is happy, because today, she is doing laundry. It is strange how she finds such simple a task so comforting. She imagines it is the immediate gratification. So many things in her life had to be abandoned, left unfinished. Or else when finished abandoned her, and she doesn't know what came of them. Or turned out to be mistakes. She can see the good of doing laundry. The hamper is full and as she works it empties. She enjoys the heartbeat of the washer, the warmth of the dry clothes, the sense of accomplishment.
Yesterday she visited Samuel, her youngest brother, fresh from his latest round of incarceration. They laid on a picnic table and ate Girl Scout cookies. He is very sly and witty. Her baby brother makes her laugh. She has never seen in him the violence that sent him to jail.
(Well, that isn't true. Once she saw him try to kick someone to death. She doesn't remember the person's name, one of the many random guys their sister Vaeda has screwed. She also forgets his transgression: maybe he hit Vaeda; maybe he slighted Sam; maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who knows? She does remember that nothing much seemed to be going on. She and Sam and Vaeda were on the front porch, the two of them smoking. She was slouched in a chair, only half listening to her sister prattle on in her endless mania. It was hot. She didn't even look up when her sister paused, as a primer colored junk heap lumbered into the yard. It was The Idiot-Du-Jour. Vaeda's recent bad decision. Perhaps The Idiot said hi. She didn't look up. She was never polite to Vaeda's boyfriends. They weren't usually worth it and never stayed around for very long anyway. She might have been dozing..But Sam's, "FUCK YOU, MOTHER FUCKER!" caused her to open her eyes. How had things gone wrong so quickly? She sat up. Sam and The Idiot were squared off, chests puffed out, sizing one another up. "I'm not afraid of you, Sam" said The Idiot. She remembers thinking that was a mistake. Sam just lunged. None of that pussy shoving and pugilistic foreplay for him. Just BAM. The Idiot had 20 pounds on Sam, but Sam was all sinew and muscle. The Idiot hit the ground and Sam began kicking. The Girl can still hear the sound Sam's foot made when it crunched into The Idiot's face. He rolled over and the rest of the blows landed on his back and ass. She and Vaeda pulled Sam off. No easy task, since Vaeda weighed 103 pounds and The Girl was soft from a desk job. Sam finally exhausted his anger and Vaeda drove The Idiot home. No one discussed it that day or any other day. They had seen a lot of things in their lives and preferred to let things go whenever possible.)
Still, she loves Sam. Admires his gentle humor. And yesterday they ate a whole box of Girl Scout cookies. He told her about his dreams of finding work that pays well. He wants to buy a place that he and his little boy can live. It is a good and reasonable dream. The Girl is happy.
Yesterday she visited Samuel, her youngest brother, fresh from his latest round of incarceration. They laid on a picnic table and ate Girl Scout cookies. He is very sly and witty. Her baby brother makes her laugh. She has never seen in him the violence that sent him to jail.
(Well, that isn't true. Once she saw him try to kick someone to death. She doesn't remember the person's name, one of the many random guys their sister Vaeda has screwed. She also forgets his transgression: maybe he hit Vaeda; maybe he slighted Sam; maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Who knows? She does remember that nothing much seemed to be going on. She and Sam and Vaeda were on the front porch, the two of them smoking. She was slouched in a chair, only half listening to her sister prattle on in her endless mania. It was hot. She didn't even look up when her sister paused, as a primer colored junk heap lumbered into the yard. It was The Idiot-Du-Jour. Vaeda's recent bad decision. Perhaps The Idiot said hi. She didn't look up. She was never polite to Vaeda's boyfriends. They weren't usually worth it and never stayed around for very long anyway. She might have been dozing..But Sam's, "FUCK YOU, MOTHER FUCKER!" caused her to open her eyes. How had things gone wrong so quickly? She sat up. Sam and The Idiot were squared off, chests puffed out, sizing one another up. "I'm not afraid of you, Sam" said The Idiot. She remembers thinking that was a mistake. Sam just lunged. None of that pussy shoving and pugilistic foreplay for him. Just BAM. The Idiot had 20 pounds on Sam, but Sam was all sinew and muscle. The Idiot hit the ground and Sam began kicking. The Girl can still hear the sound Sam's foot made when it crunched into The Idiot's face. He rolled over and the rest of the blows landed on his back and ass. She and Vaeda pulled Sam off. No easy task, since Vaeda weighed 103 pounds and The Girl was soft from a desk job. Sam finally exhausted his anger and Vaeda drove The Idiot home. No one discussed it that day or any other day. They had seen a lot of things in their lives and preferred to let things go whenever possible.)
Still, she loves Sam. Admires his gentle humor. And yesterday they ate a whole box of Girl Scout cookies. He told her about his dreams of finding work that pays well. He wants to buy a place that he and his little boy can live. It is a good and reasonable dream. The Girl is happy.
Sunday, March 07, 2004
The Girl is happy because The Boy is happy. She tries very hard to please him, because she really does love him, to distraction at times. Sometimes when he makes her laugh or notices something about her that no one else sees, she actually hurts from the joy of being his. Every day, he does something to deserve that: washes her car, goes to the store in the dead middle of the night to buy her a soda, calls her while she is standing 2 feet away to say, "Hi", clips stories or funnies from the paper he knows she will enjoy, grabs her hand in crowds because he knows crowds frighten her....These seem like small things, but this whole big world is made up of atoms. All of our lives are made up of moments. She knows she is lucky to be given moments like these.
She makes a mental note to remind herself of that when she is angry with him.
The Girl is happy, because The Boy is happy. His birthday celebration went well. The two of them had dinner in a fancy restaurant. The Girl chose well. She loves eating in nice places, because it pushes her way from the poverty of her youth. No more beanie-wienies for her. This time it is all Chilean Sea Bass served ala Oscar. (The asparagus makes her pee smell funny. She is intrigued by her body.)
(She loves dinner, too, because she is a hedonist. She loves the atmosphere of a room filled with beautiful china, real silver, fresh flowers, crisp linens, lit only by candles. She likes listening to snippets of others' conversations, glimpsing into their lives. She loves the smell of the fish, the clink of the silver hitting the china, the quiet, controlled scurrying of the wait staff, the acidic after taste of the chardonnay, the smooth warmth of the chocolate on her tongue, the bitter jolt of the coffee. She is grateful to live in a body.)
Afterward dinner they went to the Happiest Place on Earth or HP. She loves going to HP, because through sheer charm, she and The Boy have found a family there. Last night the manager was late and the bartender was downstairs getting something. The phone rang, she answered it, no one batted an eye. Everyone is always happy to see them and they are always happy to see everyone. They feel at home there.
She makes a mental note to remind herself of that when she is angry with him.
The Girl is happy, because The Boy is happy. His birthday celebration went well. The two of them had dinner in a fancy restaurant. The Girl chose well. She loves eating in nice places, because it pushes her way from the poverty of her youth. No more beanie-wienies for her. This time it is all Chilean Sea Bass served ala Oscar. (The asparagus makes her pee smell funny. She is intrigued by her body.)
(She loves dinner, too, because she is a hedonist. She loves the atmosphere of a room filled with beautiful china, real silver, fresh flowers, crisp linens, lit only by candles. She likes listening to snippets of others' conversations, glimpsing into their lives. She loves the smell of the fish, the clink of the silver hitting the china, the quiet, controlled scurrying of the wait staff, the acidic after taste of the chardonnay, the smooth warmth of the chocolate on her tongue, the bitter jolt of the coffee. She is grateful to live in a body.)
Afterward dinner they went to the Happiest Place on Earth or HP. She loves going to HP, because through sheer charm, she and The Boy have found a family there. Last night the manager was late and the bartender was downstairs getting something. The phone rang, she answered it, no one batted an eye. Everyone is always happy to see them and they are always happy to see everyone. They feel at home there.
Saturday, March 06, 2004
Tomorrow is The Boy's birthday. He will be 39. The Girl has been stressing out about what gift to give him. Last year she worked really hard on a plan. She purchased $$$ kitchen gadgets, because he likes to cook. She was going to take him on a culinary tour of their home town: Stonewood for appetizers, Porter's for dinner, and Mildred's Big City Food for dessert. She passed up having dinner with the Esquire for this.
The big night came and the Boy was in high asshole mode. When she handed him his gift, he said "That's nice," and sat it in the floor. Those were the last words he spoke all night long. He ruined the evening and crushed The Girl.
Needless to say, The Girl has been in a shitty mood all week. Her stomach tied in knots, spending money she doesn't have in an effort to please him. Last night she finally told him, "You really hurt my feelings last year by being an asshole. Esquire is in town again. If you are going to be an asshole again this year, please tell me. I would rather have dinner with Esquire than watch you sulk." The Boy replied, "Last year you said something to piss me off, don't do that again and everything will be okay." The Girl asked, "What did I say?" He didn't remember.
The Girl (calmly) said, "Don't you think it would have been better to say at the time, 'That really pissed me off,' rather than ruin the evening." He said, "No. I like it this way." He thought that was cute and, with every ounce of her strength, The Girl let it go.
She does wonder how someone lives for 39 years without growing at all. The Boy is so afraid of being truly seen by anyone that he is highly practiced at the art of camouflage. He is so good at disappearing that he is invisible to nearly everyone, even himself. The terrible thing is, The Girl sees him. So she spends much of her time describing The Boy to The Boy himself. It gets old and she can draw him with her eyes closed.
The big night came and the Boy was in high asshole mode. When she handed him his gift, he said "That's nice," and sat it in the floor. Those were the last words he spoke all night long. He ruined the evening and crushed The Girl.
Needless to say, The Girl has been in a shitty mood all week. Her stomach tied in knots, spending money she doesn't have in an effort to please him. Last night she finally told him, "You really hurt my feelings last year by being an asshole. Esquire is in town again. If you are going to be an asshole again this year, please tell me. I would rather have dinner with Esquire than watch you sulk." The Boy replied, "Last year you said something to piss me off, don't do that again and everything will be okay." The Girl asked, "What did I say?" He didn't remember.
The Girl (calmly) said, "Don't you think it would have been better to say at the time, 'That really pissed me off,' rather than ruin the evening." He said, "No. I like it this way." He thought that was cute and, with every ounce of her strength, The Girl let it go.
She does wonder how someone lives for 39 years without growing at all. The Boy is so afraid of being truly seen by anyone that he is highly practiced at the art of camouflage. He is so good at disappearing that he is invisible to nearly everyone, even himself. The terrible thing is, The Girl sees him. So she spends much of her time describing The Boy to The Boy himself. It gets old and she can draw him with her eyes closed.
It has been a long time since The Girl has thought about thinking. She has been busy trying to fit in. Busy trying to be a good girl, a good daughter, a good wife. She has forgotten what it felt like to be alone with her "internal dialog." She has taped shut the mouth of her little voice inside. She misses herself. She forgets her own name.
