3.
The more I want to say the more there is a magnet between my brain and my
tongue. Cleave like meat, like twins, a hoof. Cleavage, too, okay, because I
still have my sense of humor. Three months of this and I can't say it. And then
on top of that, k tomu, the rice to the lemon chicken, three weeks of this other
that I also can't say. Three weeks of dreams so vivid I am almost afraid to
describe them, to speak them into life. I dance with skeletons and it is
celebratory but it is also let's face it everybody is dead. At the skeleton's
ball everybody swirls and whispers secrets and his hand is on my back, holding
my spine like that of a much loved book, and I open to the favorite passage but
then the sun shines through the curtains that never completely cover the window
and my eyes are open and it's over. Those are the threes behind me.
tongue. Cleave like meat, like twins, a hoof. Cleavage, too, okay, because I
still have my sense of humor. Three months of this and I can't say it. And then
on top of that, k tomu, the rice to the lemon chicken, three weeks of this other
that I also can't say. Three weeks of dreams so vivid I am almost afraid to
describe them, to speak them into life. I dance with skeletons and it is
celebratory but it is also let's face it everybody is dead. At the skeleton's
ball everybody swirls and whispers secrets and his hand is on my back, holding
my spine like that of a much loved book, and I open to the favorite passage but
then the sun shines through the curtains that never completely cover the window
and my eyes are open and it's over. Those are the threes behind me.
The threes before me are all things I can babble over. Three chapters
to write, three days to write them in. Three more weekdays til school starts and
brings the hope of a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils and the sadness of a
summer more fleeting than summer has a right to be. Three weeks to get things in
order and on track. Three people to make plans with. It's not a bad number, it
just depends on how you look at it.
to write, three days to write them in. Three more weekdays til school starts and
brings the hope of a bouquet of freshly sharpened pencils and the sadness of a
summer more fleeting than summer has a right to be. Three weeks to get things in
order and on track. Three people to make plans with. It's not a bad number, it
just depends on how you look at it.
2.
I've been thinking about relationships, particularly friendships, and about
conversations within them. Picturing it alternately as something natural, like
the moon and the tides, or as something constructed: a tennis match. How some
things seem inevitable, like seasons, but how others feel like "your move", a
chess game. His affection waned. She opened with the liar's gambit. Thinking
this way is like that picture that is either two black faces talking or a white
vase, but it never seems possible to hold both pictures at once, even though
they both have to be there for you to see either one. I expect most friends just
talk to each other, though.
conversations within them. Picturing it alternately as something natural, like
the moon and the tides, or as something constructed: a tennis match. How some
things seem inevitable, like seasons, but how others feel like "your move", a
chess game. His affection waned. She opened with the liar's gambit. Thinking
this way is like that picture that is either two black faces talking or a white
vase, but it never seems possible to hold both pictures at once, even though
they both have to be there for you to see either one. I expect most friends just
talk to each other, though.
1.
I wonder if it is possible at this point to make any serious life changes.
For me, dealing with most people is an awful lot like walking in high heels –
it's not that I can't do it; I can. I can dance in the darn things. I just would
so much prefer to be in my slippers, my comfy walking shoes, and somehow along
the line people have confused my lack of interest in the Louboutin life with
some inability, like it's a failure to see beauty or even a fear of twisting my
ankle rather than my knowing what I like. Which in another month or so will be
boots.
For me, dealing with most people is an awful lot like walking in high heels –
it's not that I can't do it; I can. I can dance in the darn things. I just would
so much prefer to be in my slippers, my comfy walking shoes, and somehow along
the line people have confused my lack of interest in the Louboutin life with
some inability, like it's a failure to see beauty or even a fear of twisting my
ankle rather than my knowing what I like. Which in another month or so will be
boots.
tuckova 
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