Sunday, May 31, 2009

Today I Saw Love.



Today I saw two people fall in love.
That is I want to believe I saw two people fall in love.
I was driving down a lonely long stretch of road, when I noticed two cars pulled over by the side of the road. One car was a classic convertible Mustang: white with two cherry red racing stripes. The other was a small equally cherry red, ecological hybrid. Standing between them was a man and a woman in their mid twenties staring down at a very large, very misguided turtle that was by the look of it heading out to cross that road.
The man was wearing faded jeans and a white oxford shirt. He had soft curly blond hair. The woman was a petit brunet wearing a black and white striped t-shirt and a short red shirt. One hand was on her hip; the other was directed toward the turtle. He had one hand scratching his hair and the other on his hip. They were laughing. They were nervous. Nervous for the turtle, but their body language said that they were nervous with each other too.
Would he play the hero and try to move the turtle himself? Would she be a game girl and lend a hand? Would they both take a risk and slide their fingers carefully under his shell? Would the side step together across the street laughing and worrying about that ancient beast’s choppers. Would he worry more for her safety then his own? Would she feel guilty that she had somehow gotten him into this potentially dangerous mess? Would they laugh while they saved the turtle?
Would this adventure bind them together? After placing the turtle safety by the bank of the river that ran along the other side of the road, would they look into each other’s eyes and know each other? She might offer to buy him a beer? He might follow her to the restaurant down the road? They might sit together on the deck watching the sunset, talking and falling in love.
I know that this sounds ridiculously romantic. That it is more likely that they nudged the turtle back off the road with their feet, facing him away from the river to confuse him. This would be the easier, safer thing to do. Then they probably climbed back into their own cars, smiled and maybe waved to each other, as they drove away in opposite directions. Days later they might pass one another on the street and not recognize each other. The moment would have passed with out love.
But you see in the seconds it took me to pass the two on the road there was a rainbow. A perfect double rainbow, which stretched across the whole sky over their heads and they never, noticed it. It must mean something. It has too. Or there is no such thing as a perfect moment. Or fate, or kismet or the chance that the universe could come together for one perfect moment.
Today I saw two people fall in love.
I am certain they did.

Thursday, May 28, 2009

True Crime VS. True Art

TRUE CRIME VS. TRUE ART
The thing with me is that I always have to read something really mindless after reading something great. I have to let the good book digest. Simmer. I would say gestate, but that word leaves me thinking of that scene in Alien. Ya, know the one with the creature that comes bursting out of John Hurts stomach. I have yet to have a book have that effect on me.
No, I need to read something pulpy. A romance, or a crime novel. The mental bubblegum of summer fare. Not that I limit this to the summer. Yes, for every War and Peace, there is a Lord Of Scoundrels. I don’t even have to finish the lesser book. I usually can only manage to read these books until the hero finally has sex or the murderer has made know the why and how they do the nasty things they do. I could careless as to how he will get caught. He always does. I don’t need to know how the feisty heroine and brave, buff hero find their happy ending. They will. I just need the book in my hand and the smell of newsprint wafting under my nose. Living without a new book within easy reach is not an option But, I feel guilty. I feel embarrassed. The better part of me feels ashamed. Time is passing and there are so many books. I should be improving my mind. I should be immersing myself in the works of the great writers. I should be reading books like Ethan Frome. Ugh, Ethan Frome. Only New Englanders would try to kill themselves sledding! And yet the simple beauty of that book. The aching characters, the pain of a love that cannot be and then of course that punishing ending. You read that book and you know you’ve been through something. God please hand me the latest Dan Brown. I need a temporary lobotomy.
I know I sound like a snob. Let me clear. I don’t understand everything I read. But I try. Let me be honest too. Sometimes the stars align just right and you find that fluffy light book that is just a joy to read. A perfect mix of the mindless respite and good fun that doesn’t make me want to throw it against the wall ten chapters in.
Still, all those great books are just sitting on shelves waiting for me to read them. And time is passing. How many can I get to before my time on this mortal coil is over?
I have one hope. That heaven has bookshelves. I have talked about this with Ana many times. The patient girl. She as of late still remains unconvinced.
I believe that everyone gets his or her own heaven. In mine there are shelves of books. In fact every book that has ever been written or will ever be written. And there will be museums with halls of paintings that shift and change with every visit. The works of the old masters and of those yet to be will appear on the walls just as I am in the right frame of mind to appreciate them. Oh, and there of course will be a bitchin gift shops!
Sometimes I wish I could be the intellectual I would like to be. It’s just that sometimes stupid is just so much more fun.

Tuesday, May 26, 2009

The Truth Was Always Out There.

The Truth Was Always Out There.

Monday, May 18, 2009

Loves Wicked Ways


It was a dark and stormy night. There was a flash of thunder and a crash of lighting. Her bosom heaved and so did he. Her head told her this was wrong, but her heart said it was inevitable. Her appendix was keeping it’s opinion to it’s self.
He came from he wrong side of the tracks. He was poor, but brilliant. Unfortunately he was not brilliant in any practical, money making way. He could always find the perfect row to sit in at the movies. He was a genius at getting a good parking spot. He was a champion at board games. Not that this helped him to actually sink any battleships or monopolize any real estate holdings. Nor could he find Australasia on a normal map, never mind defend it from an enemy. However he was incredibly handsome. So handsome in fact that everyone who met him, instinctively dislike him.
But not her, she was blind to his handsomeness. Well, in fact she was not blind, just very nearsighted. And she was always misplacing her glasses. By the time she had found them and could see just how handsome he was, it was too late. She was in love.
Her beauty was second only to her sisters. But recently her sister had been really stressed out and had gained a lot of weight over the past summer, so in fact it could be said that that if you weren’t into slightly zaftig women she was actually just as beautiful as her sister. It was really 50/50. Six of one, half a dozen of another. Ugh, it was close enough.
She was rich and had a plucky spirit. But a short attention span. But honestly, it’s much easier to maintain a plucky spirit if you are distracted all the time.
Outside it was a downpour. The gods wept and the angels threw temper tantrums. But there in her father’s mansion alone, the two young lovers knew nothing, but the warmth of each other’s hearts and that it appeared he was allergic to shellfish. After a quick shower and a change of shirts he was back holding her in his arms and all was right with the world. Well, at least their part of the world. They were both not big readers, nor did they watch a lot of news on TV. So for them things were going pretty good.
“Marry me darling,” he said. “ We will live off of your fortune, and I will give you beautiful children. We will help the economy by spending lots of money everywhere.”
“Oh sweetheart, that sounds lovely. Can we drive a ecologically friendly car too?”
“Yes, of course my dearest if you wish but not one that is too slow, or too small, you know something cool looking too.“
“Yes, my sweeting, what ever you think best.”
And the two of them lived very, happily ever after. Thus driving all that knew them nuts with how easy everything came to them and how oblivious they were to it.

Friday, May 15, 2009

Tuesday, May 5, 2009

Writer's Block



It was the best of times it was the worst of, why can’t I write? Why is it that when I sit in front of the keyboard nothing comes? Is it fear? Is it failure? Do I have too much invested?
They say just write. Anything. They say a writer, writes. They say just begin. The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy writer who is so frozen with self-doubt that she cannot precede.
Where are the good words, the clever words? The words that will impress everyone with my witty intellect and insightful prose. Is it too much to ask to put on paper the words that will bring me riches, while at the same time proving to everyone, (including myself) that I am not wasting my time? Not to mention your time. I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mirth to a company of captive wolves. Wolves of my own insecurities. Tigers of fear. Dark, lightless, voids that wait under my bed, breathing slow and hotly, waiting.
See Dick run. See Jane run. See me pushing forward past the self-induced ennui, and self hate. See Jane slap Dick in the puss, and tell him loudly to “GET OVER IT!”
Tis a far, far better thing I do, then I have ever done before, to love myself and forgive my failings and to laugh at my mistakes.