I’m observing a 10-year birthday party made up of young boys. About 50% Asian, notable only because it’s not the demographic of my hometown. They are scared of me and my lime green mohawk, maintaining a respectful distance. That’s slightly gratifying but my smile gives me away. I’m just a strange girl typing in the corner, here by the grace of adulthood. Why I’m here is irrelevant. Their opinion doesn’t count. Continue reading 9-year olds
Category Archives: Stories
Nothing Better 4
*****
Janet spent the next hour trying to get through to the proper authorities to report the murder of her dogs. I straightened up her living room for the first half hour and tried to talk her off the phone for a while after that. Insisting through tears that they will be with her any minute I assured her I was right next door if she needs me. Quietly clicking the door shut I turn toward home. I want to help Jan but also believe you can’t get anything productive done over the phone. Stewing over the whole scenario I turn the corner and am looking down at a rotund polyester belly.
Knocked from my trance I’m face-to-face with a pear-shaped officer and his short female partner. They are both smiling but neither really mean it.
Nothing Better 3
Tacky
My hair is defaulting to a vertical state. I’m not complaining. There was a time when walking around with my hair sticking up would cause waves of shame and humiliation. My detachment to my hair is so complete I’m caught off-guard when someone takes notice. “I like your hair.” Momentary confusion. “Oh yeah, thanks,” and I touch my hair to remember what it looks like that day. Continue reading Tacky
Around here, I’m different just like everyone else. It’s a cashmere sweater in July – comfortable but not what I need. Everyone’s pretty much the same no matter where you go. The big question is what I’m doing. Productivity measured in time or money doesn’t make any sense. The amount of words is a gauge for how much time I’ve put in but it doesn’t reflect any kind of worth. The only thing I have to go on is my gut. That’s what got me into this mess. Continue reading
Nothing Better 2
Nothing Better
I adjust my hips on the 2-person vinyl bench seat. The driver’s profile sways as the bus trundles down the south end of I-5. Another 17 minutes until home. The setting sun paints the horizon with pinks and oranges, catching the contour of every wisp of cloud in the sky. The white ice caps of the mountains stand out like neon punctuation as telephone poles measure out the frames of my existence. I understand why people rubberneck a car accident. It’s probably the most interesting thing they’ll see that week.
The bus is nearly empty after rush hour traffic. The trip south is short one unless you are trying to get past downtown. Then it feels like forever. Stopping and starting at all the familiar stops. Bar. Lobby. Noodle shop. Starbucks. Bar. ATM. Cafe. Smoke shop. Noodle shop. Bar. I wonder how some places continue to exist. I don’t see people enter or exit. The doors could be painted on brick walls for all I can tell. I wonder if I’ll ever get off the bus and find out for myself. Even the thought smacks of effort. Continue reading Nothing Better
Metal Show
In Memphis, local metal and punk bands are booked hand-in-hand. It’s the only way the scene can survive down there. The amalgamation of all loud music into the same niche exposed me to more metal than I’d choose and the raw energy is enthralling. I feel like showmanship counts more than usual when metalheads take the stage. The music demands a presence that other genres don’t have, except maybe pop stars. In Seattle, local bands have room to breathe into their genre of choice and full-on scenes of people to perform for. I’m not convinced this freedom makes for better music. Continue reading Metal Show
Slice of Life
A new source of pride in our economy is what you can do with an internet jukebox. The game is getting your best value. That means finding the right mix of music that represents how broad your taste is while remaining obscure enough to keep the plebeians from recognizing the chorus and singing along. Prices are on the rise, so only real music lovers play this game. Others use a defensive response to tune it out. Tuning out annoying sounds is a prime survival skill in the city. I’m doing it right now to write this – except I’m not because I paid for the jukebox and Freddie Mercury is encouraging me to go on with the show. Continue reading Slice of Life