A steely dinner wouldn't be very tasty, but it would be bracing. I imagine those folks who go swimming in the ocean on New Year's could use a steely dinner the night before.
My mom's dogs would steal dinner right off the counter in one swift, stealthy move. Paws up, mouth open, and snatch, mission accomplished.
Thursday, June 21, 2007
"An invitation" 6.19.07
I received an invitation but I haven't RSVP'd yet. I'm not sure I'm ready to make the decision to accept or decline. I actually feel surprised that I would be invited to such an event. Was I invited because of who I am, or because the host needed an extra body?
The invitation was feather-light, with the subtlest shade of off-white to reflect the delicacy of the contents. Only a select few were invited. She opened the envelope and spread out the paper as if she were opening a butterfly's gossamer wings. She read the contents, paused, then crumpled the damn thing up and tossed it in the trash. RSVP declined.
An invitation to dance is about the scariest thing I can imagine. Something so intimate in such a public space shouldn't be entered into lightly. In junior high I had a boyfriend, but it was one of those early relationships where I didn't actually talk to him, even though we were "going out." At jr. high dances I used to sit on the bleachers and watch everyone else dance. I actually preferred it that way, to be at the event but not really in it. Besides, who wants to dance to Bon Jovi? Barf.
One time my friends tried to get me to dance with my boyfriend. They grabbed my arm and tugged me while some Aerosmith song thudded around us. I refused. I didn't even talk to the guy, why in the world would I dance with him.
RSVP: rejected.
Evite has changed my life. Almost everything I do involves Evite. I hate it -- hate. it. -- when people don't respond "definitely!" or "no way!" and instead moulder in the ambiguous "washing my hair" list. There's nothing worse than no response at all.
Williams Carlos Williams' poems were short because he wrote them on prescription pads. I hate to think that a different notebook has affected my writing. The clothes that my words wear are long and flowing today. No mini-skirts or cropped tops. No plums waiting in the icebox, no chickens pecking in the rain.
I often wonder why people want to invite me to anything. I forget that everyone has a presence, something we have no control over. And sometimes that presence is desired.
The invitation was feather-light, with the subtlest shade of off-white to reflect the delicacy of the contents. Only a select few were invited. She opened the envelope and spread out the paper as if she were opening a butterfly's gossamer wings. She read the contents, paused, then crumpled the damn thing up and tossed it in the trash. RSVP declined.
An invitation to dance is about the scariest thing I can imagine. Something so intimate in such a public space shouldn't be entered into lightly. In junior high I had a boyfriend, but it was one of those early relationships where I didn't actually talk to him, even though we were "going out." At jr. high dances I used to sit on the bleachers and watch everyone else dance. I actually preferred it that way, to be at the event but not really in it. Besides, who wants to dance to Bon Jovi? Barf.
One time my friends tried to get me to dance with my boyfriend. They grabbed my arm and tugged me while some Aerosmith song thudded around us. I refused. I didn't even talk to the guy, why in the world would I dance with him.
RSVP: rejected.
Evite has changed my life. Almost everything I do involves Evite. I hate it -- hate. it. -- when people don't respond "definitely!" or "no way!" and instead moulder in the ambiguous "washing my hair" list. There's nothing worse than no response at all.
Williams Carlos Williams' poems were short because he wrote them on prescription pads. I hate to think that a different notebook has affected my writing. The clothes that my words wear are long and flowing today. No mini-skirts or cropped tops. No plums waiting in the icebox, no chickens pecking in the rain.
I often wonder why people want to invite me to anything. I forget that everyone has a presence, something we have no control over. And sometimes that presence is desired.
Thursday, June 14, 2007
"I had not expected" 6.12.07
I had not expected to be here today. I thought the condescending insurance lady would keep me on the phone all morning with her explanation of the semantics of dealing with claims. One time in a techniques of poetry class I expressed my desire to communicate by mumbling. Wouldn't it be so much easier? (scribble scribble) like that. Why can't I express myself like that? Why do I have to deal with literal-minded people who try to tell me there's a difference between submitting a claim and filing a claim. It's like talking to a peanut butter sandwich. One that has fallen on the floor. Face down.
I had not expected that living with someone would be so maddening and so rewarding.
Last night online I saw a headline for a Vanity Fair link to a book excerpt by Tina Brown about Princess Di. The headline was "Public saint, private sinner." What the hell does that mean? Does that not describe, oh, I don't know, the human race?
I had not expected that the air would be filled with such energy. All of the people milling about, yet all of them centered, with a sense of purpose. Not a goal, but a purpose. To live and then to not live.
I had not expected that my hand would be so sore after several weeks away from writing practice. I never expected that my handwriting would be such a rare phenomenon.
(I hadn't expected it would take me that long to remember how to spell and write phenomenon.)
I had not expected to live in a time of war. It almost makes me laugh to think about it because the only war I had ever known was cold. That was how I understood war -- it had evolved into a standstill. Threats occasionally but no action.
This isn't a war, this is killing.
I had not expected to go on a political rant.
I hadn't expected that I would seriously consider applying for a position at the New York Times. I also had not expected my boyfriend to tell me that he didn't want me to apply, not because he thought I wouldn't get it, but because he thinks I'm good enough that I would get it.
I never expected to feel disappointed that I might aspire to greatness. I always had an idea that there was always something greater. I have taken comfort in that, that no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough.
I had not expected that life would be so dull. I didn't understand when I was younger that sanity requires living in reality. What a sad predicament.
I had not expected that living with someone would be so maddening and so rewarding.
Last night online I saw a headline for a Vanity Fair link to a book excerpt by Tina Brown about Princess Di. The headline was "Public saint, private sinner." What the hell does that mean? Does that not describe, oh, I don't know, the human race?
I had not expected that the air would be filled with such energy. All of the people milling about, yet all of them centered, with a sense of purpose. Not a goal, but a purpose. To live and then to not live.
I had not expected that my hand would be so sore after several weeks away from writing practice. I never expected that my handwriting would be such a rare phenomenon.
(I hadn't expected it would take me that long to remember how to spell and write phenomenon.)
I had not expected to live in a time of war. It almost makes me laugh to think about it because the only war I had ever known was cold. That was how I understood war -- it had evolved into a standstill. Threats occasionally but no action.
This isn't a war, this is killing.
I had not expected to go on a political rant.
I hadn't expected that I would seriously consider applying for a position at the New York Times. I also had not expected my boyfriend to tell me that he didn't want me to apply, not because he thought I wouldn't get it, but because he thinks I'm good enough that I would get it.
I never expected to feel disappointed that I might aspire to greatness. I always had an idea that there was always something greater. I have taken comfort in that, that no matter what I do, I'll never be good enough.
I had not expected that life would be so dull. I didn't understand when I was younger that sanity requires living in reality. What a sad predicament.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)