The Becoming

Have you ever wondered how it feels to kill somebody? Have you ever been dreaming at one time or another, about how a neck would feel if you squeezed too hard, or the look on a face with a hole right between its eyes? Mind you, I do not know much about killing either. There are books I have read, shows I have seen, and radio programs I have heard. I have discussed this often with my friends, and at class. The teacher has tried to share her own experience and walk us through the steps a thousand of times. She is good and she means well. Her story however totally clashes with my mother’s story, and my aunt’s. My dad has never told me his. He refuses to talk about it with anybody. Anyway, soon it will be my turn. The moment is drawing near. My Becoming. Of course, I do not have to go through with it at all.

 

the other side of the world

hey sweetie -he says

hey yourself – i say

how are you?

i am fine, how ’bout you?

doing  ok. Parents all good.

ehh the usual. thank God for them. and your family

doing good. we were together saturday.

that is nice to hear.

his breath deepens and his voice goes two octawes lower.

-so, what are you wearing? anything pretty?

The Most Beautiful Picture in the World

Little beauties that made their entrance in the world on 04/07/07. Never seen a more beautiful sight. congrats to proud mommy and daddy, and a thousand butterfly kisses.

Oh When the Parents Come Marchin’ In!

yes, today was the day that a wonderfully short and tanned couple and their substantial luggage were picked up at the airport by their newly acquired son in law, and their dutiful and loving daughter. it was very nice to see the tan and the smiles in both of their faces. the family was gathered round the kitchen table, avidly listening to their war stories about the trip and sharing their own. Highlights:

Nesting

Sitting with my friends at the Mama Maria restaurant bar in the Bronx is a fully engaging event. It is the first meeting after some time, and we all have news to report, boyfriends to dish about, cellulite to point out, breast reduction and augmentation to discuss and vodka to drink. Do not know why it feels like a vodka night, straight up from the unpretentious glass that almost looks ugly next to the chilling martinis the bartender is preparing. it is simple really, i point, the bartender pours, i take a swill and we both smile with the knowledge of a job well done.

“Ate” Cornbread and Feta Cheese

Finally saw the show last night. Kudoz Mz. Elza. She was very good, and it was worth standing for an hour.

I say finally, because getting four girls ready, in a car, parked and on the show with only 30 minutes off, is a feat rarely accomplished in whatever day and age. I am pretty sure that even in Stone Age, there was a caveman tapping the sundial, while the wife and girls were putting on their best mamooth pelts and rouging their lips with raspberries.

 Modern age girls, like yours truly, need their shower, their hairgel, three outfits tryouts, powder, lipstick lipgloss, eyeshadow, another outfit change, deodorant, whoops the wallet, shoes, hair mousse and spray to set it, closing down an open blouse, change of pants, another mist of perfume, bra change, earrings, necklace, necklace change, ID, transfer stuff to purse from tote, bathroom trip, and go. To top it off, there were four of us trying to use the same bathroom mirror. But I digress.

Revision

I am not much by myself

Hair always weird

And not fashionably so

Books with sauce fingerprints

Are my best friends

Lots of inappropriate laughter

And sudden anger

Are cooled down by everlasting guilt

Over speech impediments

I walk alone with a stride

Fun but not pretty

Sleepy as a bat in midday

I stumble on asphalted streets

And drop expensive china

On the feet of the house hosts

I am a danger to flowers everywhere

And my pet parrot died of hunger

I am not much but I am myself

With you

New Albo Shindig in NY

P.S. If you go and I don’t, let me know how it went.

Mourning Sanjaya’s Loss

I opened my eyes this morning and the world was gray. It was nippy and cold, but that was not it. Sanjaya was eliminated last night. The gentle sweet kid with a permanent smile was kicked out to the satisfaction of all bleeding ears of music, and the chagrin of all teenage girls, most of all, me.

I could not believe my ears, I could not believe my eyes, I could not believe my finger (wait a moment, I am confused). Anyway, why was America deprived of its need to embrace pop this time? Granted, the others can sing. But who can melt hearts like Sanjaya? Who, better than him can be a candidate for future tabloid fodder, fashion faux pas, before and after pictures, breakups and hookups page, perfume hocking etc? Anna Nicole is dead, Britney and Paris Hilton can barely raise an eyebrow, even if they play with the same horse and two chickens on top of the Empire State Building, and Angelina has run out of races to adopt.

But Sanjaya, ahh Sanjaya! A breath of fresh pink bubblegum air, and dazzling hairstyles, he brought together two countries in a way that neither 7-11s, sweatshops, outsorcing or Bollywood could. Does the government realize that we could have stolen India from GB with Sanjaya, if we had him 100 years ago?

And look at the style, the grace, the hair! The epitome of an American Idol. Since when has an American Idol been judged by his/her voice alone? It is not only a singing competition people! Trust me, the show just booted the best lounge singer/vegas performer in a long time to come.

My heart is sad, my eyes are weeping for the sweet kid who will hopefully pop up again and dazzle us with his unpretentiousness and docility, away from the bathos and the fireworks. Can he get any worse? NO. Can he get any better? Of course. So cheer him up people and buy his CDs.

Until then , enjoy the hair.

Find the Author (and do not forget to criticize)

Lame Lovelorn Geezer

Cutie, hold it there for a tick,
I am sweating like a pig 
Hold it there, Ain’t a chick
Can’t hop anymore.

I’m about run to the ground
Tapered out, beaten down,
Beauty, hold for lovelorn fawn
Swimming to the shore.