Friday, May 18, 2007

Who Saved You?

See for more beautiful photos such as the one above.

I'm at work. It should be raining but it's not. The movement in my brain is sending me to darker places. I fall to my knees and beg for light. It will come. Illumination, grace, love, clumsy saviors, all always, eventually, move into your line of vision and save you from your funny self.

It's always essential, isn't it, to be kinder than necessary.

You never know what another being is suffering. So. Offer them a library pass.

Mrs. Krikorian (By Sharon Olds)

This poem was on this morning.

She saved me. When I arrived in 6th grade,
a known criminal, the new teacher
asked me to stay after school the first day, she said
I've heard about you. She was a tall woman,
with a deep crevice between her breasts,
and a large, calm nose. She said,
This is a special library pass.
As soon as you finish your hour's work—
that hour's work that took ten minutes
and then the devil glanced into the room
and found me empty, a house standing open—
you can go to the library. Every hour
I'd zip through the work in a dash and slip out of my
seat as if out of God's side and sail
down to the library, solo through the empty
powerful halls, flash my pass
and stroll over to the dictionary
to look up the most interesting word
I knew, spank, dipping two fingers
into the jar of library paste to
suck that tart mucilage as I
came to the page with the cocker spaniel's
silks curling up like the fine steam of the body.
After spank, and breast, I'd move on
to Abe Lincoln and Helen Keller,
safe in their goodness till the bell, thanks
to Mrs. Krikorian, amiable giantess
with the kind eyes. When she asked me to write
a play, and direct it, and it was a flop, and I
hid in the coat-closet, she brought me a candy-cane
as you lay a peppermint on the tongue, and the worm
will come up out of the bowel to get it.
And so I was emptied of Lucifer
and filled with school glue and eros and
Amelia Earhart, saved by Mrs. Krikorian.
And who had saved Mrs. Krikorian?
When the Turks came across Armenia, who
slid her into the belly of a quilt, who
locked her in a chest, who mailed her to America?
And that one, who saved her, and that one—
who saved her, to save the one
who saved Mrs. Krikorian, who was
standing there on the sill of 6th grade, a
wide-hipped angel, smokey hair
standing up weightless all around her head?
I end up owing my soul to so many,
to the Armenian nation, one more soul someone
jammed behind a stove, drove
deep into a crack in a wall,
shoved under a bed. I would wake
up, in the morning, under my bed—not
knowing how I had got there—and lie
in the dusk, the dustballs beside my face
round and ashen, shining slightly
with the eerie comfort of what is neither good nor evil.

Monday, May 07, 2007

Concerning the Matter of Voice Inflection, Puppies

Should I stop talking to people as if they were puppies?

Is it inappropriate to up my octave range to 5 billion whatevers and trash my grammar and common sense for no particular reason when at work? When talking to coworkers, and really just about anybody anywhere at any place in time? I know how to speak. What happens to me? What comes over me?

I am not Dr. Doolittle. What can I do? How can I stop?

maya love

Maya the Bee

just a few things on my thousands-long list of reasons i love maya:

1.) she always hooked me up with free food at whatever restaurant she worked at. no matter what you need from maya, there's always an abundance from her, even if she broke a hell.
2.) she's the wittiest, funniest, most hilarious girl you will ever meet.
3.) she brought me flowers at work when i was depressed.
4.) she had people far and near write lovely letters to tell me how they loved me === as a birthday gift. it's hard to replicate kindnesses like this.
5.) she once woke me up in the middle of the night to give me a makeover...and then woke up karen to show her. karen was not excited.
6.) she's been through fire and back and is all the sweeter for it. but her sass just kicks your ass.
7.) she loves sasparilla and coffee.
8.) she used to call me at work to talk for an hour. it was just funny cause i had a 9-5 and she was a booking manager/party planner/hustler. she didn't understand why i couldn't just chill on the phone and discuss the subtle nuances of a boy saying, "i dunno." What did he MEAN?! She'd ask.
9. she still does the same as above even though she does have a 9-5 job.
10. she looks more and more like her mother every day.


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