|
sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
|
The Demon In The Stiletto Heels
New? Try These On For Size: So I'll bet that you're thinking that my life is all about one night stands, the gym, my art. And, if you were thinking this, to some extent you'd be right. But, You Know, It's Really All About The Perfect Shoe So I did what any girl wrestling with ennui does when she decides to spurn translating The Aeneid from Latin to French: I went shopping for shoes. I went to this shoe place that stacks the shoes in cardboard box displays and then still charges you an arm and a leg for remaindered (but still very nice) shoes. It's kind of like the CostCo of shoe stores, where you have to dodge chubby, pushy, very white soccer moms who are trying in vain, like Cinderella's sisters, to shove their feet into those hot red stiletto slingbacks. You know, for something to wear to PTA meetings or while they're flat on their backs in that lingerie from Frederick of Hollywood's special Junior League Selection. And me? I'm not above pushing a sister out of the way to get at the last pair of polka-dotted, round- and open-toed Mia pumps with a little bow on the front. Because it ain't easy to find those motherfuckers in a size 10M. Anyway, I did go in to buy a pair of entirely frivolous shoes, of which they had a wide selection. However, I have quite different criteria when it comes to a frivolous shoe apparently, because I only found two pairs that I would even consider paying too much for. One was the above mentioned polka-dotted pair (which made me look like I had raided Minnie Mouse's closet). The other was this bad ass pair of pumps that had a distorted black-and-white grid printed on them and the highest stiletto heels you have ever seen in your life. I saw actual strippers shudder and turn away, the heels were so precarious. I didn't buy them though, because I couldn't think of a single solitary place where I would wear them. And don't think I didn't try. I mean, what? Bowling? Drunkenbowlingkaraoke? NicI's wedding? The sushi bar? Church? Where? Where, dammit, where?! The brainstorming went on until I could smell smoke, and still I could not think of a single place where those things would have made sense. So I laid them back in their sad little cardboard box and went to the discount store next door to peruse ugly clothes until I was thoroughly disgusted with humanity. And then I had an iced Venti Americano at Starbucks and now I'm feeling a bit better. Demons On The Loose I met The Demon Who Always Does The Right Thing and The Demon Who Tolerates Intolerable Behavior (a.k.a The Demon Grrlfriend) for lunch at the local Aryuvedic chai house this afternoon (prior to shoe shopping). The Demons had a couple of presents for me. They brought me a framed photo of The Demon and me on The Demon Grrlfriend's (s)old motorcycle, looking for all the world to see like butch motorcycle babes. They also brought me a souvenir from their recent visit to the midwest--a lighter emblazoned with the logo of a local convenience store chain: Kum & Go Mart. In light of recent events, I'd have to call it an appropriate gift. The Demon and I made plans to go to the gym and then dress shopping for NicI's wedding festivities. I think if I can't get those shoes out of my head tonight (now there's an image for you), I'll drag The Demon over to ShoeCo and show them to her and make her tell me how stupid I look in them. We talked about their trip, The Demon Grrlfriend's redneck brother who wants to pick up on some fine lesbian chicks (best line? "No, he has all his teeth."), the air conditioner at their house-sitting gig which kept them up until four a.m. by spewing smoke into the living room, and then we were in the middle of getting up to leave when Ama, The Demon's ex-Grrlfriend, walked in. The Demon Grrlfriend and The Demon Ex-Grrlfriend have never laid eyes on each other. No one was really tense except for The Demon herself, who did not introduce the two. There was not the slightest bit of awkwardness to the situation as far as I could tell. (Though I could be wrong about that, as my awkwardness detector has been all fucked up since sometime last Tuesday.) I started that story for a reason, and now I can't remember what the reason was... Sublingua's getting old. What Is The List Price On Gratitude? I am grateful. I am grateful for beautiful and uncomfortable shoes. I am grateful for those freaky little sort-of nylons that they have in shoe stores so that you can try on too-tight pumps. I am grateful. I am grateful for keys. I am grateful for chai. I am grateful for distraction. I am grateful. I am grateful that I am a girl, butch though I am. Grateful that I can do things like spend an afternoon trying on shoes that I will never buy, not in a million years. I am grateful. I am grateful for all my Demon friends, who remind me that I am cared for, that I am not invisible. I am grateful. I am grateful. I am grateful and I hope always to be so.
More lies:
|
|||||