Friday, November 25, 2005

Crimson and Clover

I may have the shittiest, coldest, most green carpet covered bedroom in my house, however, I have undoubtedly the best view. When I'm getting ready in the morning, right next to my vanity is two small windows (well actually one is a door to the balcony but it is really weak so I can't go out there). From those two windows I can see clear over the nasty crack ridden alley (I’m serious kids are always lurking and smoking out there) to a lovely canopy of trees and a large church spire. After that I can see where the suburbs start and a large hill swells up, covered in bone-dry trees. In the morning it is particularly beautiful when the sun is rising and the sky is magenta and crimson, and the church spire is silhouetted. In the morning all sorts of birds fly around, and they are also silhouetted. It has been a few months of waking up to this and it still takes my breath away. It is the second best view in the world, next to the view of the balcony of the Brikette hostile in Positano, Italy. You have not felt the world spin until you watch the sun rise from my bedroom window with "crimson and clover" playing on the radio, and a warm sleeping body in the bed behind you.

Monday, November 21, 2005

I am a walking memorial for a five-year-old boy. (Goodbye precious)

I often wonder what my mother thought before she fell asleep, the day Shawny died. I don't know much about the details of that day (or any details about him at all, its very hard to get my family to talk about him), but I do know that, that night my mother fell asleep early and slept for a very long time. I worry that she might think what I think. I think that my mother's sons are all jinxed. One dead at five, one suicidal for most of his life and one mentally retarded. I can gather that she probably regrets giving him leave to go sledding at his friend’s house. I can also gather that she has probably thought about what life would be like if she said no. I bet she has thought about why she didn't ask if someone was going to be watching them. But what I really want to know is what was the last thing she said to him. Probably "Goodbye precious". I like to fancy that she said "Sweetie, I love you.... in two years I'm going to have extensive surgeries to bare the daughter that will replace you, who will obsesses about you, and think about you everyday for her entire life"

I always thought it was fitting that my birthday usually falls on Memorial Day weekend.

I have never been sledding.

Saturday, November 19, 2005

The crows, the crows, the crows are gone forever Clementine.

Last winter I used to take the same route home from work everyday. There was this specific stretch, about three blocks long, where there was a beautiful phenomenon. There are these enormous trees there that when winter-bare, have this peculiar shape of upside down triangles. They are totally flat and level on the tops, making a very even canopy. Day after day I would hold my breath as I drove past the trees because hundreds of crows (maybe they were ravens or grackles...some kind of corvid) were perched precariously on the very top limps of the trees. They didn't ever perch lower, or on the other trees in the area. Sometimes, though, they would all circle above the intersection, silently. It used to be my favorite part of every day. The sight of it would take my breath strait out of my little heart-felt lungs; I could never hold it in (trust me I tried). I really liked rolling down my windows when they were flying, because it would be so cold, and the birds wouldn't make a sound. Just circle, circle 1 2 3, circle, circle 1 2 3.

I've been taking a different route home lately, but after the fender bender I took the old route just once, out of curiosity and the obvious abhorrence for one particularly jinxed intersection. There were absolutely no crows there. I was completely stunned. I used to make jokes with my boyfriend at the time that they were waiting there for me...

However, on my new route home, (I change it quarterly) there is a lady security guard taking her smoke break across the street of the convention center every time I drive by. This is a little uncanny because I leave work, give or take 20 minutes, at a different time everyday. She doesn’t wear a jacket and looks very cold so she couldn't be out there for very long when she smokes. She's in her thirties, has a wear look on her face, and sways so slightly back and forth, like the wind could knock her off her feet at any given moment. She must be waiting for me, I like to imagine she has seen my crows too, and is out there waiting for them to come back. I don't think she knows I think about her, or see her, or pine for a glance from her. Don't worry lady security guard (I fancy her name to be Clementine) they'll come to take you with them someday and we'll fly high with our crows, silent, silent, silent...

Thursday, November 10, 2005

If my heart leaps from my chest and grows legs and runs away, will you catch it?

This is it. My heart is finally going to burst, so I will write fast. This is the first time in my life since I was 13 that I have been single for more than a month. I don't mind it. I don't like it. Its nice having the bed to myself, chewing with my mouth open, and things of that nature. I sometimes just wish I could tell someone about the things that occur to me. I write quite a bit, but one just cannot write down everything that pops into their pretty little head. So much space and time, so much space and time, so much space and time is hard to fill sometimes. Some times not. My brain whirls and my fancies are passing, nothing has been sticking lately. Too many boys for this life, much too much broken hearted to be this young. Lately I have been researching for sometimes up to six hours, random things that should be forgotten. Like the American tradition of painting your front door red, or physical idiosyncrasies of conjoined twins, or the social history of peanut butter (I'm not kidding, its really interesting...). It is my brother's birthday today and I was doing homework all night after working a long day in the warehouse, and I did not call him. He is probably very sad. He has fetal alcohol syndrome, so he does not understand that I was busy. I love that helpless motherfucker more than anyone else in the whole world. He is Mexican and beautiful. I miss Juan Pedro....

Sometimes I just want a stranger to hold my hand.

Tuesday, November 01, 2005

I felt a ghost today.

I was driving home from work today when something amazing happened to me. I had been in a funk all morning, just kinda filled with all sorts of nameless anxieties. I turned onto third downtown and an ambulance passed me so close and so fast that it took my breath away. Moderately stunned I pulled up to a red light. The light changed and I pulled forward to the next intersection. As I was approaching a green light at the next intersection I heard a fire truck and hit the breaks kinda spastically. In like five seconds I felt my car shake twice and was choked by my seat belt. I looked in my rear view mirror seconds before I was hit and saw the guy behind me hit his face on the windshield so hard that it cracked it (the windshield, not his face, well kinda his face). Totally confused, I threw it into park and got out to see what happened. I was the first car in a three-car pile up. The middle car was totaled, it looked like a really big person picked it up and squished it between their fingers. The second car was smoking. Of the two guys who hit me, neither spoke English, and both were yelling at me in different languages. I just stood there in the middle of traffic dazed while cars passed me on either side. There was a breeze on either side of me from the cars and my hair was in my eyes, not that it mattered, because my eyes were shut so tight tears were coming out. My car was in the middle of the intersection and I kept my eyes closed as and ran to the other two cars hoping people would see me. The police came and one of them talked to my mom on the phone. My hands were shaking like crazy and I left my cigarettes in the car, which was still sitting in the middle of the intersection. One of the police asked if he could use my notebook which I was gripping for dear life and when he opened it up, it opened up right to the page that had a drawing of a banana with HUGE eraser nipples and its peel down saying ‘lick my nipples’ in lightning bolt letters. He gave me a really queer look and all I could think to say was "I go to art school". After I left I felt amazing for the rest of the day. And at the end of a very long day, one of my best friends proposed to me. I said yes. All I could think about all day was, 'If I had died, my mom would have lost two children in car accidents'.