The little black bird has flown to Spain and the star heads to Egypt and I'm stuck here with these damned incontinent clouds.
I found a picture from my last day of hell aka high school. I was seated at a picnic table beneath a tree waiting for my friend. I had five trustworthy good friends in high school and the fellow who came and sat across from me was not counted among them. He was one of those guys who had peaked in looks and popularity in junior high; water polo player, track and field jock, super tan and he knew the grapevine had carried word of his big dick. I once sat behind him in a junior high history class and he would rub his finger behind his ear and then smell it. My most wicked girlfriend and I called him "Ear sniff" and he dated a cheerleader for a year and thought he was a chillin bad ass. I was not charmed.
He smiled his affected crooked grin at me and said "Hey cutie!" which aside from everything else, with my big ugly glasses, butched hair, combat boots, and suspenders was definitely not a compliment I appreciated.
Being the last day ever of high school, I had carried a small camera with me for photos I knew wouldn't be in the yearbook, and being pressed to make conversation I offered to take a picture of him even though it was not exactly a photo I wanted. He smiled his doofus grin & I took his photo, then he offered to take my photo as well. The look on my face in the photograph is one of utter boredom, and in my eyes, somewhere left of a smile, remains the look of disdain.
Last night's dance class was the last one with my instructor, mentor, friend. She is headed for Cairo, dusty days, long nights, dancing horses and night clubs and river boats on the Nile. She won't be back until March, and I will miss her terribly. The teacher who will substitute for her was in class last night. She's an older lady and has lots of personality and incredible stage presence but I feel like she's going to have to prove something to me. She kept up with the drills we did last night but I wasn't impressed with her form, and she even had the audacity to ask my instructor, in front of the class, some 30 women stretching and warming up, "Did you gain weight?" which I found inappropriate and bordering on rude. I don't expect her to be as kind a person or as good a teacher but I hope she at least can hold my interest until my instructor returns. I don't prefer to be so demanding but it happens sometimes.
I feel it coming through today, hard and dark like the shadow of a shotgun and I'm not tired but I can feel it. It's a sore spot a little lower than I like, left of center, left behind, left to my own sinister devices. I have many wonderful friends, but two of them are leaving this week for indeterminate time, to worlds unknown to me.
I found a picture from my last day of hell aka high school. I was seated at a picnic table beneath a tree waiting for my friend. I had five trustworthy good friends in high school and the fellow who came and sat across from me was not counted among them. He was one of those guys who had peaked in looks and popularity in junior high; water polo player, track and field jock, super tan and he knew the grapevine had carried word of his big dick. I once sat behind him in a junior high history class and he would rub his finger behind his ear and then smell it. My most wicked girlfriend and I called him "Ear sniff" and he dated a cheerleader for a year and thought he was a chillin bad ass. I was not charmed.
He smiled his affected crooked grin at me and said "Hey cutie!" which aside from everything else, with my big ugly glasses, butched hair, combat boots, and suspenders was definitely not a compliment I appreciated.
Being the last day ever of high school, I had carried a small camera with me for photos I knew wouldn't be in the yearbook, and being pressed to make conversation I offered to take a picture of him even though it was not exactly a photo I wanted. He smiled his doofus grin & I took his photo, then he offered to take my photo as well. The look on my face in the photograph is one of utter boredom, and in my eyes, somewhere left of a smile, remains the look of disdain.
Last night's dance class was the last one with my instructor, mentor, friend. She is headed for Cairo, dusty days, long nights, dancing horses and night clubs and river boats on the Nile. She won't be back until March, and I will miss her terribly. The teacher who will substitute for her was in class last night. She's an older lady and has lots of personality and incredible stage presence but I feel like she's going to have to prove something to me. She kept up with the drills we did last night but I wasn't impressed with her form, and she even had the audacity to ask my instructor, in front of the class, some 30 women stretching and warming up, "Did you gain weight?" which I found inappropriate and bordering on rude. I don't expect her to be as kind a person or as good a teacher but I hope she at least can hold my interest until my instructor returns. I don't prefer to be so demanding but it happens sometimes.
I feel it coming through today, hard and dark like the shadow of a shotgun and I'm not tired but I can feel it. It's a sore spot a little lower than I like, left of center, left behind, left to my own sinister devices. I have many wonderful friends, but two of them are leaving this week for indeterminate time, to worlds unknown to me.
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