new iterations)
��������� �����power-outage in my heart, and all the emergency lights have come on, thrumming and humming like racing cars like horses at the bit, fists clenching unclenching, jaw tightening and being rewired, a machine-ridden construction of hope & joy & despair & beauty -last night i stepped out with corey & betsy and seren. we drove in seren's corsica LT, and it was a winding sort of trip through the streets of portland, in various directions, and our soundtrack was the one the only jason mraz himself, yes, crooning and bubbling "running" to "0% interest" to ... all sorts. a cat ended up on my lap. just as i had made friends with (earlier in the night) kristin dearborn's dogfriend maggie, who is skittish and scared of everything. that sentence was constructed backwards.
i began to wax philosophical. the sappi paper mill. "it's like a rude penetration, you know? this .. phallic smokestack is .. ejaculating smoke into the air, and .. it's very masculine, you know? and ... the earth is very green, very maternal, feminine in a way - it's like a rape." which i'm sure rachel carson said illimitably better in her book Silent Spring - but i don't remember it. "paging dr. freud."
to granny's burritos in portland. i did not partake, as my stomach was rumbling - warning, red lights in me. i felt wanderlust, that old spice, like a blight, creeping over my skin. leprosy-like. i slid around a bit under my skin, and pasted a whimsical smile on.
later that night we sat in a car in a hannaford lot, waiting for corey to come out with the enormous blue bottle of skyy vodka he was purchasing. and the ale. etc. i told seren & betsy about how there was nothing more romantic than an empty parking lot with all the lights on, a few metal carriages strewn about, and way way out in the furthest-back corner, one light ... flickering just a little.
betsy laughed. i like her, she's got that fun twist in her eyes, and the constant smile - no, grin - hovering like a helicopter just to about to land always over her lips. for some reason, i don't think of her as a betsy, though. i love to watch it when her and corey enter into their "tango" state - hands clasped tightly, fingerless gloves to fingerless gloves, and the steps quick, knees bent, eyes locked. it reminds of the mamushka from the addams family movie. and i like it.
although i do hope it won't be awkward for corey to live with someone who is a lot more present in the room than his previous roommates. maybe that's something i should work on.
finally, the weekend. but still that crisp coldness that makes me think this time of year is the battle of Spring vs. Fall, when the winter is just ending, and there's that neutral gray-ground that either one could take over before Summer sweeps in. i think of Summer sometimes as a full-bodied woman, regal, and majestic, too. a Titian figure. red hair. like kate law. kate law reminds me of summer. and alternately, when she is sad, the end of it. which is good to encapsulate in one person. a range of seasons.
i've rambled on for long enough. the return of spring always brings me new thoughts - the seasons shifting, the patterns re-iterating, like a moire, or a kaleidoscope - meeting someone new on the street and shaking their hand and saying "hullo, how're you?"
to which they break a smile, nod, no matter who they are, and say "great, thanks. and you?"