Wednesday, September 14, 2005

In case you were wondering why I don't write poetry...

Just took a jaunt down memory lane and came across a little something that's too embarrassing not to share with hundreds of anonymous strangers.

I wrote it years ago, while briefly dating an actor whom I fondly refer to these days as “Mindfuck Guy...”

And now, for your giggling pleasure, I present:

New Shoes

My palm sweats, clammy
beneath the blood of his heart.
I just finished squeezing the life out of it,
and no, there was no enjoyment in it for me.
I do this for myself.
It’s just coincidence that I was making love
to another man’s brain at the time.
I can’t help myself. You see, I
just looked back and I was gone.
My education continues and the
epicenter of my sensuality has vacated
its home between my legs and taken up
residence in my cranium.
I like these shoes.

Monday, September 12, 2005

Workin' at the car wash

So, my girly-girl friend and her girly-girl friends decided to have a car wash to raise money for victims of hurricane Katrina. (We’ve already established that I’m not a girly-girl, but sending money and hand-me-downs from my air-conditioned home didn’t feel like enough, so I threw my sponge in.)

Now, I hate being the center of attention, so naturally, I volunteered to stand alone out on the eight-lane road, holding up a bright red poster directing cars to our little fundraiser.

This was after I cut off the bottom half of my standard-issue “Charity Chicks” T-shirt, the back of which read, “Get your car clean’a to help the victims of Katrina.” (I’m not joking. Wish I were. I didn’t write it. Hope you figured that out on your own.)

So, yeah. I, the reclusive writer-chick, spent about three hours on one of the busiest roads in town, dressed like I just got off work at Hooters, prancing around with my sign like a ring girl at a boxing match.

Oh-- and dancing. Almost forgot that part.

You may not know this about me, but I’m not much of a dancer. I’ve been called “Grace” a lot in my life, but I know a lot of folks who speak with their tongues in their cheeks.

But today, I was out there sweating off my sunscreen and Car Wash (the Rose Royce version) was playing in my head. And really, who can hear that song and not move? Honestly.

Couldn’t stay hydrated. It must’ve been in the mid-90s today and there was no shade on my little patch of sidewalk beside the 7-11 parking lot. So I kept trotting back to the lot for bottled water and a hose-down. (Which made my sunscreen turn white, like milk was drizzled all over me. Which is a good look -- if you're a cookie.)

Happily, I think we raised almost $2,000 today. A good chunk of the cash was from kind-faced people who simply handed us bills as they drove by, glad to help in any way they could. Most of the customers donated $20 or more. And I’m not nearly as sunburned as I imagined I’d be. (Addendum: with corporate matching, we earned closer to $4,000!)

I usually button my scenes and I almost always button my blog entries. But, I don’t have a button for this one. No “moral of the story” or “what have you learned, Dorothy?” For some reason, I got outside myself today. It was kinda fun and a little freer out there. Maybe I’ll get outside myself again, sometime.

Huh. Okay, maybe I did have a button…