Saturday, June 6, 2009

Fantastically Bitchy

Oh my darlin', oh my darlin', oh my darlin', Clementine. The name of this post, I read earlier, I wish it were mine, because then the scrutiny would shine through. Listen, Babe. I am laying face down, hopes up, and possibly on another roll. You see, maybe you have gotten behind. Maybe, as you drive in your car, you were gonna make a call, but then, your all-time favorite jam came on the radio, so you decided, you would wait. Then you had to meet for salad, and thought, it may be too early. Never mind. You recheck your watch? 11:30. May be in bed. Call tomorrow. Then, in the middle of the night, as faithful as a golden retriever, you have a dream that incurred from drinking too much Dr. Pepper. You wistfully lie in bed, and know now, it is too late. This whole thing is describing someone else's situation as they sit still and read the words, and feel utterly, and hopelessly accused.

Wouldn't it be nice? (The Beach Boys, always linger, and especially, Pet Sounds, brilliant album) My day was a blur, the night, the same. I sat outside, pulled my sweater around me a little tighter, and listened to the sound of the electric fence, like a metronome, keeping time. The moon was hidden by the clouds, and I wanted to hide right along with it. Bev had called, and asked if I had put a spell on anyone with my "bedroom" eyes. I choked on my Dos Equis. I laughed. I told her, no, no one is bewitched by this girl today, as far as I know. She said, you wait, and I directly quote this mad woman, " You allow married men, men with girlfriends, and possibly a gay or two, question their commitment to their partner." Well, God Bless America. That, my sweet, made me laugh harder. I got off the phone with wined-up Beverly, (she visits the mountain winery too much) and told her to get in the bed and go to sleep. This was 12:45ish.

Who wants to be that Jezebel anyway?( I really think she meant more along the lines of Homer, and the Odyssey.)

And that Muskadine wine? Always makes her talk out of her head. (Yeah, you, Bev.)

My conversation with Sue was a little more realistic, and certainly, in this world, and not in the boundaries of "String Theory", real or imagined. We discussed perception, and how it is different for everyone. The depths? Very deep. Which, I needed. I am, transcended by space, and time. My frame of mind, is set in other worlds, and truth. Did I cry? Yes. I cried. My understanding, and my frailty, will rise to the top, because, my emotions, are easily wrought. In a wonderful way. When others cant say how they feel. When others don't want to say how they feel. I hold back, when I think I'm scaring someone like a fainting goat. (Did you know they shot an episode of WildBoys in New Market?) I try, to use discretion.

With Sue, Angie, my fire-starter, I can, tell you, and not worry. I am not anxious, when I let it all out to you. I suppose I should write a magnificent Opus. An Ode To Crowns. Ha.

My thoughts? If I won the lotto, I would take care of my family, first. I would go to The Galapagos. I would, drive the same car, but have the headlights replaced. I would, need a jeep for the dogs. I don't believe, I will ever hit big numbers. It would be terrifying. To hold so much. when I have a little extra cash, I am loosey goosey. Would the greedy, human part of me, overtake my sweet spirit? My Tenderhearted nature? (Batman -Two Face? - Become a DC Comics character?)

You see, my dear, I have let go of everything. I have been in the wilderness. I have, and continue to roam. Encourage my homeland to show itself. I am very much Christopher Columbus. Spreading the maps along the ground, marking the places I long to find.
Proving theories. Proving theories. Those words are as sweet as honey in my mouth.

Tragic, huh? I see the girls in their heels, gorgeous. Painted. I see myself, pale in comparison, at times. Someone, I don't speak to, something they said, constantly bangs in my head, when I compare my short, cute, self to other breathtakingly beautiful gazelles of ladies. This soul, had uttered, "You're just not the type of girl you find at a bar. You, are set apart." I still take that as a compliment. I hope to be described as the girl on the song. (My Morning Jacket, Librarian.)

I feel challenged. Not like a mentally ill person, (Iron Maiden, Self titled, 1980.) Just, provoked. Like a wild piousness snake in the middle of her strike. You see, we all have to eat to live. Whether we strangle our kill, inject the sweet venom into the bloodstream.....
We are all predators. Lying in wait. (Even, you, pushed down in the mud. Fuck, you're the one to really watch for.) Am I camouflaged? Not nearly enough.

Great Neil Patrick Harris. Just keepin' it between the lines, son.

As I read, elbows propped, I glance over, and look down my arm. Freckles. Everywhere. Am I bewitched so easily? I suppose. Is it you who is putting spells on me? In the dark cauldron, you spoon the liquid, I take it in. Am I mislead? Hansel and Gretel making their way through the forest. One of my all time favorites. (Grimm's.) Right into the oven.

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