(sk)etches: 3

 

truth: 1 hottie = not worth 1,000s of birds dead in the sky

because women prefer advertisements to sex, cosmo magazine has kindly assembled bachelors from every state in america, asked them to answer 11 questions in 10 or fewer words, and photographed them: sleeves rolled, shirts lifted, abs glistening.  it's called COSMOS'S 2010 BACHELOR BLOWOUT.  what a great idea.  AND they are given bachelor email addresses so that subscribers can contact them and tell them how good they look.  on christmas day, one of my sisters decided to email adam davis, arkansas bachelor to wish him a merry christmas and to invite him into her blogosphere.  she invited my other sister and i to read adam davis's profile: he's shy, polite, listens to kings of leon, can't live without women in tight jeans, believes in soulmates, "manscapes," and wears his henleys modestly (half-unbuttoned).  

ladies, he's single.

intoxicated with christmas spirit, i decided that babysister and i should email adam davis as well.  baby incorporated lines from kings of leon's "milk" (reportedly adam davis' most-played song on the ol' ipod) into her email, while i boldly decided to straight up ask the most important question in the world, which of is of course: do you have what it takes to be my man?  adam davis replied to our emails within the hour, and though he did not address any of our questions, he did ask for a christmas photo of the 3 of us.  really?  yes.  yes, he did.  and he got one.  a little christmas gift.


1 WEEK LATER: 5,000 blackbirds and starlings drop dead from the sky and 83,000 drum fish wash up dead on the shore along the arkansas river.

not

a

coincidence.

this is what happens when 3 young ladies decide to take the cosmo challenge and pursue mr. arkansas: it does not rain men, it rains tiny carcasses. every time a woman contacts a cosmo bachelor, thousands of innocent creatures die of stress and/or spontaneous disease and everyone who was single before the bachelor was contacted remains single and the bachelor remains goodlooking and far away from you (and in all likelihood, probably not actually a bachelor) and officials have NO IDEA what is going on and I STILL DON'T HAVE A REAL JOB.  happy new year.

(sk)etches: 3 / truth: a bite is a bite is a bite

pain is not real – shock is real, horror is real, shame is real – snow and teeth and sirens and the voice at the other end, all of that is real – the hood of the car, warm from the sun, supporting our arched spines, that is real – the sheets and the mattress, the blinds pulled low, the vacant room down the hall, that is real – pain was never there, present only afterward, pain is only there when you’re not yet aware of your own experience, pain makes you aware – we remember that which is distinct, we take comfort in regularity, conformity, continuity – we are happy to be at rest, but our associations are capable of being much freer than that, some of us bend the familiar – nothing is dangerous once you’ve familiarized yourself with it – nothing is safe, nothing is right, everything is new or not new, everything is possible – we choose the cages that contain us or we free ourselves – what’s the worst that can happen? – would you rather that nothing happened at all?

eyecandy: eat up

stuff: so-nice street art

(sk)etches: 2 / truth: i can't wait for my claws

a woman (12 oz. drip coffee with 7 lumps of sugar and a double espresso with 7 lumps of sugar) said to me today that life is too short and I said that I’d rather it be that way than too long – she said to me that she had found the headstone of her stillborn Uncle Ron while walking through a cemetery – she remarked that we all lose one another in different ways - another woman (12 oz. americano with room and a galette aux fruits) said to me that she wished she were inside of a cocoon – a young woman (occasional 16 oz. soy moliere, usually orders a 12 oz. soy chai) said to me that everything happens for a reason and I agreed with the “everything happens” part – I am beginning to memorize the names of the people I make coffee for, memorizing who likes whipped cream, who prefers decaf, who wants no foam, who wants extra foam – so there is a segment of my brain that is filled with faces associated with beverages and treats, and that segment lights up and shines 4-5 times per week – I saw my fifth grade teacher (1 pound of sumatra beans, ground) today and remarked that I had mistaken her for Cindy Crawford at first glance, because I remember her saying in 1998 that Cindy was her long lost identical twin – I remember her saying in 1998 that Cindy’s mole was on her face and that her own mole was on her ring finger, and it was – I was glad that she remembered an essay I had written and the fact that I “never spoke” rather than the fact that I had been the person to infest her class with head lice (they are just headfriends).

I’m thinking of a recent memory, a familiar face, eyebrows slanting, eyes large and open and looking back at me – it’s good to look at one another, it’s good to put a kiss on the nose of a face that you love – a co-worker told me today that “kitten” was the derogatory term for women before it was replaced by “chick” – kittens and chicks are cute, fluffy things that grow claws and talons and beaks – kittens and chicks are things that are enjoyed when they are young and are forgotten or devoured when they grow older and I can’t wait for my claws - call me a kitten anytime you want.