just a rant

twiddling my thumbs and waiting for albo election results in my underwear. it is raining and i crave a smoke. i don’t smoke but i crave one. i miss the sexy way one holds the cigarette between one’s fingers and one’s lips, the acrid taste of a smoker’s mouth and the putrefying odor coming from flossing a smoker’s teeth.
results don’t come up yet. i want election results, i want colors of either blue, red or that mixture of color that always turns to grey. politics! whoever saw any good come out of them?
i dunno why i care really. maybe if my mystery man did not turn into a dud, i wouldn’t have craved results that much. tall dark and completely empty up there. i mean not a stitch of brain. cute ducky though. if only he did not open his mouth. one date was enough
so, now i am back to browsing for election results and watching porn. almost the same thing really, except the climax is taking so long. but i imagine the same ugly faces and animal noises will ensue. did i mention it is still raining? f
urthermore, today i learned that quite possibly the last prospect of marriage gave pursuing me up because i was not talkative enough ?!!! strange world we live in when a man does not want to marry a woman because she does not talk enough. and complains of it to his mother.
i might be old-fashioned. yeah, that’s it, the world has gone too forward and i can’t seem to stop it. i even went for hot yoga, the thing where you sweat like a pig for an hour and a half and you have to look at your own belly for half that amount of time. and the rest is spend focusing at yourself in the mirror. like i don’t have enough body issues already. actually, why lie, i loved mu big round belly, white hips and red face. and my hear curled nicely, even as i was trying to spider my way through that seated eagle pose. i mean whoever even imagined a seated eagle?
and who will win these elections? and why is iran having elections at the same time we are? conspiracy i say. conspiracy as tall as my cousin’s sparse beard and as crazy as his other theories. see, i am glad i am out of fashion in a way, because when one is always cool, one starts thinking one is also smart and oneque. and that can be downright nasty.
so anyway, i am going to sleep. i officially will not care until 6 am eastern standard time about who won the elections.
g. night

when I get the blues

your touch implied
your glances expressed
your lips uttered
your tongue danced
your hands molded
your walk convened
what never was
my skin reacted
my eyes sparkled
my lips responded
my mouth enfolded
my hips changed
my legs followed
what will never be

———————-
when i get the blues
and the blues get me
papa we are messed
not fit for company

when i get the tears
and they really come down
papa it ain’t fun no mo’
it ain’t a pretty sound

when i get like this
you don’t get it at all
papa you just up and leave
no one to catch my fall

when i get the blues
and you run so far away
papa can’t just come back
no place for you to stay

for my heart is closed
my engine out of juice
nothing for you here
papa i got the blues

why i like my job

“woo, marshallah, God bless your tits. you have really good tits, just the way i like them.”  the statement in itself, while true, makes for a very uncomfortable compliment. coupled with the fact that it just left the mouth of an 84 yr old woman, and the blush on my neck and cheeks becomes entirely justified. 

“cheeks too, very round cheeks” she says and pinches them. I laugh. we are good with cheeks, in familiar ground. we talk about other things, we laugh and we gesture, we interact with the rest of the people in the center. we discuss the program, the number of her children (anywhere from four to eight) and what she expects to get from us. the nice center assistants comes swooping in bearing apple juice.

“wooo, good tits, great tits you have too. i like your tits” my horny hag chimes in again, cackling in her particular cooky way.

“vot she say? ” the aide asks. thankfully she does not understand Albanian. 

“tell her. tell her she has round tits” the old lady says and elbows me in the ribs.

“she says you are very beautiful and she likes your face” my pg13 version ensues. the aide beams at the old lady, the old lady beams at the aide and they both feel happy. who says I have no diplomatic skills?

at least i got a compliment.

Another one bites the dust

I am officially the only unattached person in my office. Today, one of the other women I was always feeling sorry for, sported the biggest brightest diamond and surrounding stones in a square cut and lots of glimmer.
I understand that the wedding will take place on a boat. Nice. I almost want to get married just so that I can step on a boat. Almost.
Anyway, we’re doing the shower, the prayer circle, the raunchy gifts, the raucous laughter (sincere and insincere) and a lot of other fun things one is supposed to do to go smiling to the guillotine. for the second time. My hat is off to her.
So the rest of the girls/women got together today and refreshed my list:
1. Must have own teeth.
2. Better with hair.
3. Not living with mama.
4. Have a job.
5. Have own place.
6. Can spell.
7. Can reasonably enjoy life
8. Possibly Albanian and possibly single.
They are out in your neighborhood Monday to Friday 9-12 and 4-7. Look for the “Marry Blete” van in the red corner between the bodega and the Chinese take-out place.

mystery man

well, at my job it seems that everybody is either marrying, divorcing, having babies, grandbabies, graduation, retirement, birthdays and i do not know what else. life is all going around me but not through me it seems. no boyfriend, no drama, nothing interesting.

oh i have excuses. i am too fat, i have no time, i am too weird, i never meet anybody, etc etc. and all of them are valid, and current. i am fat, or as i like to say pleasantly rotund, i have four jobs, and i tend to be a bit off kilter.  and over thirty. their validity serves as a shield and a prison all at once.

and then something happens, a new figure enters into my range of interest. interesting guy, single, funny gainfully employed. also cute. a bit brash and a show off but you can’t have everything. “yes – my inner concilla says – he is perfect but he is not interested in you.” because he can get younger and much prettier than me. what is he going to use me for? jokes he needs translated with a dictionary and a map? 200 lbs of prime lard for those lonely winter nights? my community connections with the silver mane crowd?

therefore it comes as a big surprise to see that he is interested. and a bit scary. and plenty to muss over. so, while this man is exhibiting all signs and traits of hitting on me, i sit and i think “yes yes you are doing great but push a bit harder. i am shy.” and that is it.

men have a one track mind. this one does not have a girlfriend and wants one, so he is advertising the fact left and right. and frankly, while he likes my round smiling face, he’s not going to sit around until i can come out of my freeze spell. other girls beckon. so i snooze and i lose.

oh well, if only he’d asked a third time!

Detail

You and her are sitting together, swaying to the rhythm of the #5 train. Holding hands. Her fingers are lightly playing with yours, her lip corners are toying with a misterious smile. Her face is lit up when she talks to you. You are also smiling but it is a little more frozen, a little more remote. You muscles tense as soon as the train departs, signalling the fact that you will get off at the next stop. She whispers something else and bends her head towards your, still wearing her luminous smile and swooning look. After a short hesitation, maybe a millisecond too long, you meet her lips with yours, grunt a goodbye and make your escape. After she makes sure you have left, she stops smiling, casts her eyes down and remains like that for the next two stops. Then she gets up and leaves, still pensive, still lost in thought, but already resigned to the reality of life outside the train station.

picture found at: http://photo.net/photodb/photo?photo_id=3071674&size=lg

Vanilla

There comes a day in your life when you realize you are a bit different from everybody else. It may suddenly hit you at an odd moment, when all of a sudden you catch yourself wishing his hands would go in another direction, a little lower…a little further…a little stronger. Or during a particularly juicy gossip from your friend when you are shocked to find that you do not feel any disgust at all, whatsoever, but that you are wishing you could have tried it.

i am not talking about teenage angst, or even that type of conscious difference that you may try to achieve in life, which sets you apart enough so you can be distinguished, but not enough to be cast out. nope, i am talking about the type of difference that may indeed cast you out. the moment when you realize that you are not vanilla, and you’ve probably never been vanilla, and there is no chance in this life time you will ever be vanilla. 

there is this oddity, this strange viewpoint of reality that your difference brings, the inner secret growing inside of you and clamoring to get out. so you either go all out and wear your difference proudly, or keep it buried inside with the hope that it will not raise its head where people can see. there is no middle way. people will not overlook difference, people will not make peace with it either. so you have to choose.

you do not wish you’d never noticed your difference. you do not wish it will go away. you like your difference. it helps on those sleepless nights when you realize that there will be a time when every little molecule of the earth will be obliterated and with it every little chance of life as you know it, every little memory of you, every conscious thought on your head. and you do not know how to stop it. and you know you’ll probably need medication to put it to sleep. yet you like your little difference. 

and maybe you are not ready to show it to the world. you are not the type that takes the flag and runs with it, unafraid, undaunted, set and secure in yourself. oh no, you like your corner of the world, and the way your difference wraps around it. but you do not feel ashamed either. you know what your like, and your difference tells you why. because you are different. because you were born different, and because you will die different. and the world will be obliterated one day.

Wishes in the rain

I wish for you two eyes that twinkle

a lithe body and nose that crinkles

long white fingers, sparkling smile

wavy hair, true grace and style

swelling breasts that stop your heart

tushy firm and bouncing tight

mellow voice with a side of silver

laughter to make your soul quiver

two lips to bring “true love’s kiss”

thighs made just for your bliss

I wish for you and may it come true

for honey who loves you like  I do?

whatever song two

they said only this one?

so i added another

they said why these two

they will be a bother

i said why only one?

i like two bothers at once

so they left me alone

with my bothers to dance

whatever whatever song

For once I’d like to offer a love song,

beautiful reds and yellows in tune

fecund greens and delicious sky clouds

instead of the dejected sounds of loneliness

For once I’d like to bow to the greatness of feelings

with warm fuzzy memories inside

wrapped up in cuddles and bunnies with roses in their ears

instead of motheaten mongrel cynicism

For once I’d like you to convince me I am wrong

that all the ice is just frozen water not splintered hearts

and the signs in the horizon do not spell doom

and surely none of this self-fulfilling prophecy.

For once I’d like to have dirty played nice

and darkness radiate light from my eyes

bloody hands and a wonderful innocent smile

instead of the hurt at the mention of your name.

for once I’d like to be called a liar

not be right in the head but be right in my path

with an ending, outside the circle of unfulfillment

an off-tune lament in harmony with a dried rose

and a dead hamster.