June 15, 2008

I heard she done some really nasty stuff down in the park with michael

The other day was Friday the 13th. Scary things happen on the thirteenth day of the month that happens to land on a Friday. Supposedly.

a) A squirrel plummeted to its death from a 25 foot high tree branch in Union Square. Henry and I watched it struggle and fall, hitting the concrete with a thick thud. It didn't even bounce. Actually I watched it happen. Henry was doing a crossword puzzle. Ladies shrieked. It was really quite tragic.
Another squirrel quickly followed, but as soon as the second one hit the ground it went off scurrying back into the park. Why would a squirrel make the same mistake another made not 2 minutes after it just died from it? Dual suicide? Hm.

b) I ran into maybe the last person I would want to run into. Probably ever. In a shop. Let alone on a day I was not wearing makeup, had on somebody else's clothes, adjusting the Dr. Scholl's gels in my boot. It's always like that though, isn't it.

Henry beat him to the "let's pretend I didn't notice you there" punch and dealt with the awkward brief catch-ups for which I feigned cool disinterest. I was on the phone talking to someone who was telling me he wasn't going to let go this time. Or something like that. I was distracted.

I was polite. I was poised. I did not look him in the eye.
He gave a halfhearted goodbye hug and smelled like raw denim. He walked out holding some girl's hand. His new girlfriend's hand. She has tattoos down her leg. I felt good about myself when I saw her. I felt that I am free. My heartbeat slowed.

I found myself later that day, much later, doing back flips in a swimming pool at midnight with some very good friends. That night, I slept on a down comforter on the largest, most comfortable bed I can remember sleeping on, next to the most ambiguously affectionate friend I have shared a bed with. I woke up in snuggles with the delicious feeling of being awake in the morning but not having to leave the bed.

c) American Apparel called to schedule an interview tomorrow afternoon. Why am I so nervous? It's just retail. And authority figures usually love me.
Dov Charney will tell me I'm not hip enough to work there. That's why. Or proposition me. And all I wanted was to work someplace where I can wear stretchy pants and booty shorts.

I am frightened.

1 comment:

K-Hawk said...