A Terrible Shiny Thing

The dowdy little houses with sandpaper flapping at their shabby seams hardly elicit a flick of emotion in me. I who was once of the country, who knew the shabbiness of rural poverty, the claustrophobia of the dark gathering woods, the small squalid towns with their provincial ways frowning upon any divergence from the most unremarkable mediocrity. The eyes of the locals regarding any newcomer with a dull and unimpassioned hostility. I feel my own transition from this world of fields and streams, of ponds full of silvery fish, ragged marshes and the rustle of leaves in the wind - to an anxious urbanite - a biting, jagged edge barely concealed beneath a bright surface. Impatient, overly hungry with a trace of bitterness revealed in the tight gathers at the corners of my lips. The swell of people in the cities - of every imaginable color, shape, scent and class - each inscrutable face sealing a chamber of alluring secrets. Wild creatures in their natural habitat of concrete and steel, flashing across the edifices of buildings like shining birds fluttering through the trees. The soft dark eyes and damp skin of exotic men beckons on swarming streets and crowded subway cars. Evenings like these - the heavy limpid air, vaguely unclean, presses upon bare shoulders and fawns over my body like a warm, overly close breath. It is here that I make my home now, here that my soul feels itself liberated, that the infinite possibilities of a strange and exciting future unravel in my head. But its here too that my solitary, scant existence among this vociferous bounty weighs upon me, a close companion though out hot, humid summer nights when I toss on my cheap sheets cursing the futility of my existence. There can be no refuge in this world that is not merely a sweet tang of temporary relief amid the trudging onward of our lives.

Orgins of it all:

The road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom... for we never know what is enough until we know what is more than enough.

William Blake

I didn’t have any boyfriends in high school. To my knowledge no boys liked me. I was fat, weird and I wore a black trench coat all the time. Even in the summer when it was really hot. Sometimes I put my backpack on under my trench coat and pretended that I was a hunchback. Needless to say, I wasn’t too sexy. I desperately wanted to fall in love with someone and have sex but I pretty much figured it would never, ever happen for me. Instead I sat at home listening to The Cure, The Violent Femmes and The Smiths, alone in my room. I was busy writing long dark poems, smearing my blood in my journal and planning out my funeral. Oh, did I mention that I didn’t have too many friends either?

If I didn’t end up killing myself, I thought I might join the convent and become a nun. My mom was a nun for 6 years before meeting my Dad. If she could do it, so could I. I wanted to have sex but I figured no one would ever want to have it with me so this seemed like a practical solution to things.

After I moved away from the backwoods where I grew up and started college in the city, I miraculously lost 30 pounds and my virginity. It was amazing. For the first time in my life boys were noticing me, interested in me and I felt … not sexy… but on a good day, sorta pretty. In my early 20s I had a boyfriend who was totally in love with me. The kind of guy who would tell me I was the prettiest girl in the world (and who meant it when he said it), the kind of guy who told me I was beautiful everyday, the kind of guy who brought me flowers and wrote me poems and wanted to marry me. The kind of boy who gives you ‘letters and sodas’ (Liz Phair, Fuck and Run). Never-the-less this was all a bit much for me at the time. I don’t know if I handled it quite the way I should have. Because the thing was, once I got a taste for men and sex, once I felt a little bit attractive, I got a little greedy. I wanted to go out there and try it all! I wanted to have all kinds of wild and crazy love affairs with the men of the world. And I did. As they say ‘be careful what you wish for because you just might get it.’ Well that’s exactly what happened – I got way too much of what I wished for.