Friday, December 14, 2007
Its going to be an interesting winter.Full of gladiolas and white chocolate,tuberoses and parties and many,many people.I don't know how to fit in my fiercely independant,go/do-whatever-wherever-whenever self into peoples' lives.I'm not sure how they'll react,and I've been told its bad manners to not care of what they think.Believe you me,I'm all for bad manners,but its the pristine side of me (from my mother) that creates this unruly paradox in my being.Bad manners,good,okay,Good manners,even better.So even though my suitcases are packed with mangy clothes and delicate underwear,I will know when to act nice,how and where.My mother likes to think otherwise,she knows I'd rather let my hair down and run butt naked to promote 'freedom',but its not true.Sure,I believe in all that 1960's hippie-peace-bong crap,but I'm a fairly okay actress.I can go all *fluorescent-smiley* to my aunt and be all like 'pass the booze' to F.I'd like to be really drama-queenish and call it Multiple Personality Disorder,but I won't.
This isn't a post about trying to find out who I am,everyone's on that mission 24/7/365,so don't even start the bullshit about 'ohhh poo cliche' cuz its not.Its fact.Very much like guys need porn.
It would be nice to explain to my daughter why I named her Aurora.'Something to do with magnetic fields and both of the Earth's poles,darling.He would gladly explain it better to you if I knew where he was.Probably on a yacht in the Mediterranean with those blonde bimbos of his'.
You think you know,but you have noooo idea*
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Nothing could touch her on this night that promised sparkle and intensity. A fusion of bygones as she swept past people,swimming in the artificial light.Outside,the sky looked like El Greco’s ‘Laocoön’ as she felt the red bleeding from her lips. Her hair,nearly down to her waist,almost choked her as she convinced the on-lookers of her sweeping passion.The empty floor was her home,a stage to play on and be someone else.Its ok if they cat-called or whistled,they wouldn’t recognize her walking the streets in the morning anyway.
Sometimes her boots would hurt and her costume would snag as someone tried to pull it off.Sometimes she didn’t feel the whiteness of her teeth flow through her entire body.Did it ever occur to anyone that she could possibly like books?Or a nice walk in Central Park?Or how relieving it would feel to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge to break the delicate murkiness of the Hudson River.
But it was fine,you know.In actuality,she might grow up and out of this,and fall for someone who thought he knew it all,and why it all couldn’t be as simple as they said it was.Maybe she’d buy a dog or give extra money to her dead mother’s estranged sister.Maybe she’ll look back and think ‘I really don’t have to look back anymore’.
But for now,for this cloudly,starless night that promises confusion,the show must go on.