Monday, September 18, 2006

one small space

the weather’s been temperamental today and so have i.
it's cool sometimes, and the breeze pauses behind my knees for a rest.
other times it's hot, and the air just won’t leave me alone.

during the latter, I’ve been using my chinese paper fan to cool myself. my chinese paper fan, purchased with two, maybe three tickets, during one good time. I admit here, in my safe place, I can’t part with it. the others, the ones you left on purpose, have been disposed of. mostly, everything is gone, like your voice, settled into the phone on a late schoolnight. i took your t-shirt and your book and your socks and I dropped them off for someone less fortunate. I deleted your phone number, your emails, your presents, your presence in my life. i didn't waste the time. because you can't get it back after you waste it.

it’s been 6 months.

My Chinese paper fan is useful in several ways: it folds thin, conveniently and can be fastened with this witty plastic strap. the colors are green and pink, my favorites. it's lightweight, small, and fits in most of my purses. on a hot day, it’s there for the using. on a cool day, it doesn’t seem to be taking up any excessive amount of space. the thin paper hasn't broken yet, through several uses.
like i said, although it does take up space,
it doesn’t seem excessive.
not an excessive amount of space-
just a small one.
one small space.

truth about babies.

it’s but the two month anniversary of cable TV in my living room and I’ve already found my mind feeble for it. between back to back viewings of Rachael Ray’s 30 minute meals (as well as the making of “Rachael Ray’s 30 minute meals”) I’ve managed to watch Dirty Dancing 5 times this past week. Not normally prone to speaking in movie quotes (those of you that know me can attest to my complete lack of this sort of knowledge), I found myself repeating “shoulders back, head up…” in the fitting room today (weekly retail therapy).

Later during table conversation, I had a far off look in my eyes because I was thinking about appropriate ways to insert “Nobody puts Baby in a corner” into the mix.

Now on the walk home, I’m remembering the first time I saw that scene. I was six. Moments after the credits rolled I ran into my bedroom and found this pink nightgown, convinced I looked just like Baby, I twirled around my bedroom.
And so, what’s changed.
I’m thinking.
It’s ironic the way media can make you want all the things you’re not (and you actually don’t want to be… ie why would I ever want to be a “Baby”)
So then, what does Baby have that I don’t?
(awesome: I can develop an inferiority complex against a fictional character).

And now on my walk home, my skinny high heels prick the pavement during each fast paced step (some harder than others). My hips sway beneath upright shoulders, between straightened back, balanced over slender heel (calves tightened), as I’ve determined the only successful posture. From right to left, my hips brush between my vintage blue handbag (weighted by my mag flashlight and tazer) and my guitar case from which my fingers are calloused around the handle.
I wonder how anyone could ever know how small I am inside, when the heels I chose are higher by the day.

How could anyone know that I desperately need to be pulled from the corner, when I’m standing onstage.