Tuesday, April 28, 2009

flip flop

what do you do when you realize you are a character from the movies?
the older woman always wearing smudged coral lipstick.
the incessant dipshit always telling shit-for-brains jokes.
the sexy beast who lives upside down but longs for right side up.
lips pouted.
looooong gaze at the camera.
I know what I am doing.
this is my movie.
I am the star, the muse, the director, the perpetual entertainer.
I am the asshole laying out the mixed nuts, arranging the napkins in a fan.
I am the producer of this box office smash that wonders why it flopped?

will it flop?
has it flopped?
did it flop?

flip flop I am a fish out of water learning to swim.
time smoothing out the raisins of my fins turned fingers.
I can feel again.
who needs water when there is music?
I am a professionally untrained dancer.
my hips lead the way.
they’ve never done me wrong (I left that up to the men that loved them).
oh how they loved them.
oh how poorly.
no one loved me half as much as I loved them.
my hips, not the men.

Sunday, April 19, 2009

the top of rock bottom

please excuse the mess, I am under construction. 

I am a mess. a beautiful, ravenous mess. I will have my way with this journey. I will carve out this path. I will make decisions that shock and horrify. I will betray others so as not to betray myself. I will not look back.

I will eat giant pieces of charred meat in the middle of the street. I will drink tall boys during the day. I will sing too loudly in quiet places. I will take long solitary walks up steep hills. I will laugh at inappropriate jokes and cry at silly things. I will forget to eat. I will struggle to sleep. I will embrace the cliche of a meltdown. I will melt and rise up, a microwaved marshmallow. some graham crackers and some chocolate and I will become s'more and s'more amazing each day. it may be sticky, but it is oh-so-delicious and well worth the mess.

Friday, April 17, 2009

I don't remember writing this last night

“oh the little things. well I’m relatively available for the making of magic or the scraping of the mundane. either way. it’s the little things.” ~me to a friend via text

holy shit, this is what it really looks like. drunk. alone. on a thursday night. life being a series of surprises, but not of the cupcake variety. not the surprise where a group of your favorite people jump out from behind a couch in the dark to wish you a happy birthday. surprise! you got what you wished for. you are drunk. and alone. and now what? sitting in the dark surrounded by blessings. scared of the implications. now what?

live. dance. sing = to yourself and no one else, for the time being. laugh, on the phone with friends even though it’s not as good as in person. pine for things. long for a shorter wait. this is what you asked for. embrace the melancholy. this. is. what. you. wished. for. don't be careful.

don't be careful.

embrace the crazy. the blissful indifference. the not knowing. the desire for something undefined yet somehow palpable. everything becomes unspeakable for the blabbermouth me. embrace it.
I am embracing the beautiful speechless me. what can I say?

this is what this birthday looks like. a cake with no candles. no light, but sweet just the same.

Sunday, April 12, 2009

how I spent my easter

ostridge eggs are colossal. you need a chisel and hammer to break one open and about 20 people to eat the insides. for those curious, it tastes like a chicken egg, only milder. this was definitely the highlight of my easter weekend. gross and wonderful. practicing the religion of laughter. amen.