if it quirks..

then, I have done my job

Tag: thoughts

Old world upkeep

I’ve walked a million steps on cobblestones ancient and creaking.

Apparently, these cobblestones are worshipped by the toes of today.

Passing over stones laid by pilgrims, peasants and paupers who dreamed of a better life

who dreamed of better than cobblestones

who thought the cobblestones were a modern uptick from dirt roads sloshed with mud and piss.

I explored an old home where the kitchen walls were inlaid with hand painted tiles.

“Don’t touch”, screamed the signage.

How many dirty fingers passed over this kitchen wall in its time?

How many boiling pots spewed droplets of stew on to these hand painted one-of-a-kind tiles back in its day?

How many maids didn’t care?

How many people stumped past those fancy tiles to do a number two?

It’s interesting how cobblestones and hand painted tiles have become a luxury in our new world.

When they were simply part of the boring landscape of the old world.

The old world resting on its laurels – proud of never updating its roads or preserving something that was once functional.

Now it’s all a museum. The old world museum. Look but don’t touch.

And in today’s news – The Moulin Rouge windmill collapsed April 25, 2024.

If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…until you can’t ignore the need for some WD40 and a good tune-up.

Old world, take care of your streets.

Let’s be frank

Frank, why are you haunting me?

You left us high and dry

Long before I was a twinkle in my father’s eye.

Or a flutter in my mother’s heart.

You left her alone to fend for herself

You left your daughter alone.

But why?

Maybe that’s what haunts me…

The weight of your choice bears down on my shoulders

Rolling them concave.

I have to shake you off all the time.

Rolling my neck and straightening my shoulders.

How desperate can you be to be known when you

left us high and dry. No note. No explanation. No reason.

You strung everything up; tied a ribbon; hung it out to dry.

Never knew you. Never could know you.

I’m sure she wondered why Daddy left the way he did.

But you rejected life and your family rejected your kin.

Now, you hover around for what?

You made your choice.

Go to the light as my mother would say.

Never wishes

If you wish for anything,

Wish to be rejected by this world

When it spits you out and scoffs at you,

Rejoice because you’ve dodged a bullet.

Rejoice because you’ve stepped outside of the net

Trust these words.

Do not seek the approval of this fallen, shallow place.

Terrible 2

she wanted to be good

she always wanted to be good

but she was sloppy

she would paint the walls with black Sharpie ink

stains that grandma couldn’t remove

she took the clay and smeared it into the carpet

mom never let them play with play-doh again

she hid in the kitchen cupboard stealing candy

gobbling gobs of it

she lied about the sweets even when mama could see right through her

she bit her sister and fought like a cat

screaming, spitting, hissing

but she wanted to be good

she ate the sand from the sandbox

even when mama said don’t

she saw herself in the mirror and cried

what a mess

what a waste

how can i be like big sister? she’s always so

obedient

so elegant

so calm

so dutiful

such a worthy child

everything she wasn’t

wild

brazen, clumsy, mischievous, conniving, cunning

liar, liar pants on fire

she was used to mama’s screams of rage

time outs, spankings, scowls, sighs of exasperation

but why was she so backward

she would ask herself

she would ask God to change her

she didn’t know who she would be

years later

Mama said,

“I don’t know how you turned out so well;

you were my wild child;

but you are so wonderful.”

Push and pull

I was a ballerina as a child.

Straight back, shoulders rolled back, long limbs, lengthened neck, pointed toes.

Precision and accuracy are key. Timing is key. Self-reliance is key.

Grace, always grace. If you lose your shoe, the show goes on. You keep dancing and make it look flawless. Finish to the end.

I cried backstage once because it wasn’t a perfect show. My shoe came off, and I dragged it helplessly around the stage trying in vain to make everything look flawless.

I eventually kicked the little slipper away down stage. Apparently, this made the audience laugh and giggle. My mother said it was amusing and endearing to the audience. I just thought it was embarrassing. Patty the dance teacher told me I did a good job, but I knew she was supposed to say that to make me feel better.

But I excelled at ballet after that because I learned to rely on myself for the perfect dance routine.

***

I never partner danced until I was an adult.

I was stiff and unyielding as I had been taught by ballet. It’s hard to unlearn something that has been ground into you over the span of 10 years.

I was comfortable relying on myself to make the dance moves happen, anticipate the beat and memorize the next step.

But partner dancing is completely different. I was supposed to follow the lead of someone. I was supposed to feel the intuition of my partner and let him give me subtle cues of where to go next.

This I couldn’t do. Push and pull was foreign to me. Lessons were difficult because my partners were also learning to be confident in leading.

Always the same comment: “You’re so stiff. Loosen up.”

But I always felt my partners were going to let me whirl away on the dance floor. Their grip was not firm.

And firmness is important in partner dancing. If she can’t trust your judgment on the floor, the lady will fly away.

Push and pull.

Firm and flowing

Truth and trust

He and me

These are fundamental in a symbiotic relationship, which is what the dance meant. Dancing with someone is a meeting of wills. Willing the best in the other and reacting to a reaction. It’s physics in the best kind of way.

I had to unlearn the harsh structure of the prima ballerina.

The unknown in a dance is the part that makes you better.

It made me free.

It made me ok with ebbing and flowing.

Push and pull

Time warps and machines are unnecessary

If you could go back in time or forward in time, would you do it? There’s always that moment of nostalgia that floods my chest and butterflies there. I have to resuscitate myself sometimes when I think about “the good old days”. We like to think that things were better when we were younger. Was it? Or maybe we just weren’t paying that close of attention. And I’m sure that parents everywhere are grateful for that because they had enough to worry about besides scared, frightened kids.

If I had the ability to go back in time, I wouldn’t. Don’t mess with time.

Don’t.

Things have passed a certain way and that is that. Do not stray off the path. That’s what I learned from Ray Bradbury when I read “Sound of Thunder”. Going back in time creates all kinds of scenarios. What do you do if you meet yourself? What do you do if someone you know recognizes you? How you deal with a situation now would change the course of who you were and ultimately change you in the future. Your past is connected to your present and future self. If you were happy with yourself in your present, then why mess with it?

The good old days don’t actually exist. We humans are predictable. We have a tendency to go for the wrong thing. WE are attracted to bad stuff. Bad boys. Bad girls. Bad money. Bad habits. Bad bets. Bad deals. Bad, bad, bad. Regrets are rampant in the present, but do you really think that things would be that different if you could change it all? What fresh bad could you introduce by changing your course or another’s course in the past?

Tongues of fire

Darkness pushed against her lids.

Or was it a caress?

She put herself last, pushed up against a corner.

She felt suffocated and burning rashes

She scratched and scratched

But the itch wouldn’t flinch

“Out, out, out!”

Her thoughts were all out.

While she reached down her leg for another bout of relief

Her ragged fingernails paused.

She stared into the dark and out of it a shape loomed.

A man with no particular features

Nothing to make him stand out in a crowd.

But a wide mouth

Craven and cavernous

He stood there stock still, wide eyed, and wide mouthed.

She shivered and stared as he raised a hand to his mouth.

He was staring into the air, into nothing.

What was in his hand?

She would find out in a split second as his mouth went ablaze.

He lit his tongue on fire like a flame.

He didn’t wince or yelp or recoil.

His mouth a beacon in the room.

A warning?

A way?

A farce?

A light in the dark?

At least she had forgotten her itch in the absurdity of these pyrotechnics.

Cringe #5

That crusty build up inside a neglected belly button.

Cringe #4

Washing dishes in ice cold, stagnant water.

The bubbles are all deflated.

Cringe #3

Finding a cockroach in your hair dryer.

How long has that been there?

And are there pieces of cockroach in your hair now?