Your feet fall asleep when you are asleep. How is it possible?
Deeper and deeper you gently graze into a place where nobody else is. The only place you are here. The only place you are safe and you are safe. Slower and slower you walk and you walk into a scarlet night; moon lumps fall into your lap as you and you reach up at the cosmos. Father and farther there is no turning back. It is only you, you and the moon lumps now. Where are you going?
Your feet fall asleep when you are asleep. How is it possible?
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
"Bad girls go to hell"
January 1st
Last year, on this day, I started my career at McLoughlin’s Pleasure Plant. I still remember when I first applied for the job – thinking the job description would be something along the lines of trimming Bonsai trees or something about meditational gardening. If I weren’t so strapped for cash I probably wouldn’t have done it. For a full year now, I have been painting rubber penises. Jim still doesn’t know. Even if he did, it’s not like there is anything to be jealous of. I mean, it’s just rubber. A lot of it.
January 12tth-
7:58am
42. Forty-two. Cuarenta y dos. Why is it that so many expectations are held for a single day? It rolls around once a year, but every year it’s the same bullshit.
“Do you want a party?” Jim asks me casually, lighting a cigarette and unfolding the morning paper. “Maybe next year,“ I lie. I have been saying this for fifteen years, the entire length of our marriage. Every year, he wakes me up by awkwardly trying to begin our days with even more awkward morning sex. Kissing my neck from behind, running his hands up and down my hips, moving closer and closer until I quickly pull myself out of bed and rush to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later as I come out of the bathroom he is sitting on the porch outside, coffee in hand, lighting another cigarette. It’s like clockwork. It seems like he should have figured it out after so much bad sex.
Later on in the day, after we come home from an early dinner at Applebee’s, he will try this again. Now, because I have most likely had three too many glasses of red wine, I will comply. I am drunk and have intimacy issues. After his attempts to move in close, I will likely begin to think about my job, the errands I need to run in the next morning, and probably something along the lines of “God I hope I don’t get pregnant.”
It’s not like it’s hard for me to let loose. I mean, if I ever had the opportunity to I definitely would. And could. I just haven’t had the opportunity to since I was young. But this year is going to be different.
9:42pm
Today we got in a new one. His name is Mickey. He is about 8.5 inches long, a real champion. After painting about 60 of them today I decided that Mickey was going to come home with me tonight.
I quietly introduced myself under the covers, but he didn’t respond. He’s quiet, which I like about him. He also doesn’t want to cuddle, or kiss my neck, or move too fast. He lasts forever. We could go on and on all night if we wanted to.
January 27th
I had always thought I was a bad judge of character, until Mickey came into my life. In every nook and cranny of decisions I have made, people I have trusted and loved, and the energies that I had let into my life, I always seem to have made the wrong choice. Except when it comes down to Mickey. Things may be moving fast, but we have been spending a lot of time together. Even on my lunch breaks he comes in to see me. He is probably the best thing that has happened to me.
February 15th
Jim came into my work today. I guess he found a pay stub with the address on it and wanted to surprise me for lunch. I was eating a bologna sandwich. Sitting, reading the daily comics in the Chronicle. I looked up to check the time, and there he was. Jim. My husband. Staring at me, jaw dropped, eyes bigger than I had ever seen before. And there I was. White gown, hair net, surrounded by windows looking into an assembly line of women painting rubber dicks. I didn’t say anything. Silence. I had nothing to be ashamed of.
“What the fuck is this place?”
“McLoughlins”
He grabbed my arm and firmly took me outside. Lighting a cigarette, he asked again, “Now what the fuck is this place?”
“I work here. I have been working here. You know this. It’s been over a year now.“ Confrontation never came easily for me. Neither did talking to him seriously.
“So you paint dicks. This is what you do. Everyday. Painting dicks. Why in God’s name would you never tell me about this?”
“Look, my lunch is over. I have to go.”
I walked back inside, and he stayed there, jaw still halfway to the cement.
February 20th-
I have considered leaving Jim for years now. I never thought I could do any better, but with the new influence of Mickey in my life, the thought runs through my head everyday. I called my sister to get a second opinion, but couldn’t manage to tell her the whole truth.
“Well, did you meet somebody else?”
“Not really.”
“Then why leave such a good thing for an idea of a better life?”
“I have to go.”
It wasn’t a good thing, it never was a good thing. It will never be a good thing. Nobody will understand me like Mickey does. Nobody will ever love me like he does.
February 27th-
Jim is growing more and more suspicious. He must know, he has to. We haven’t even touched each other since Mickey came into my life. Mickey even asked me today if I still intended on leaving him. I have to do it. I am going to do it. It is the only thing that makes sense anymore.
February 28th-
Mickey told me today that if I didn’t leave Jim, he would leave me. He said he was sick of feeling like just some toy, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted us to be serious.
March 1st-
Last night Jim walked in on Mickey and I. We were relaxing, having a glass of wine and watching a movie. I explained to him, the only way I knew how, that I wasn’t happy any longer. There was nothing he could do about it. I had fallen in love with someone else. Someone that understood me. Someone simple. No bullshit. I knew he wouldn’t take kindly to the news but I had no idea he would do this. Tearing picture frames off the walls, throwing my clothes into suitcases, screaming uncontrollably, “HOW COULD YOU.” I grabbed Mickey from the shoebox under our bed and left, leaving behind everything I had once loved.
“IS THAT IT?”
I slammed the door behind me and I was gone. I couldn’t help but doubt my decision, but I am here now, at the Sleep Inn next to the plant. Nothing matters anymore. It is just him and I. We. Us. Together. He doesn’t care that I am 42. He loves that I am 42. He says he will pay for everything once he gets his life together. And I know he will. He will.
March 2nd-
I thought Jim would be happy for me. But that doesn’t matter anymore. I am happy for me. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Even if my family won’t talk to me, it doesn’t matter. There is nothing more beautiful than the relationship Mickey and I have created. Nothing more real.
Last year, on this day, I started my career at McLoughlin’s Pleasure Plant. I still remember when I first applied for the job – thinking the job description would be something along the lines of trimming Bonsai trees or something about meditational gardening. If I weren’t so strapped for cash I probably wouldn’t have done it. For a full year now, I have been painting rubber penises. Jim still doesn’t know. Even if he did, it’s not like there is anything to be jealous of. I mean, it’s just rubber. A lot of it.
January 12tth-
7:58am
42. Forty-two. Cuarenta y dos. Why is it that so many expectations are held for a single day? It rolls around once a year, but every year it’s the same bullshit.
“Do you want a party?” Jim asks me casually, lighting a cigarette and unfolding the morning paper. “Maybe next year,“ I lie. I have been saying this for fifteen years, the entire length of our marriage. Every year, he wakes me up by awkwardly trying to begin our days with even more awkward morning sex. Kissing my neck from behind, running his hands up and down my hips, moving closer and closer until I quickly pull myself out of bed and rush to the bathroom. Twenty minutes later as I come out of the bathroom he is sitting on the porch outside, coffee in hand, lighting another cigarette. It’s like clockwork. It seems like he should have figured it out after so much bad sex.
Later on in the day, after we come home from an early dinner at Applebee’s, he will try this again. Now, because I have most likely had three too many glasses of red wine, I will comply. I am drunk and have intimacy issues. After his attempts to move in close, I will likely begin to think about my job, the errands I need to run in the next morning, and probably something along the lines of “God I hope I don’t get pregnant.”
It’s not like it’s hard for me to let loose. I mean, if I ever had the opportunity to I definitely would. And could. I just haven’t had the opportunity to since I was young. But this year is going to be different.
9:42pm
Today we got in a new one. His name is Mickey. He is about 8.5 inches long, a real champion. After painting about 60 of them today I decided that Mickey was going to come home with me tonight.
I quietly introduced myself under the covers, but he didn’t respond. He’s quiet, which I like about him. He also doesn’t want to cuddle, or kiss my neck, or move too fast. He lasts forever. We could go on and on all night if we wanted to.
January 27th
I had always thought I was a bad judge of character, until Mickey came into my life. In every nook and cranny of decisions I have made, people I have trusted and loved, and the energies that I had let into my life, I always seem to have made the wrong choice. Except when it comes down to Mickey. Things may be moving fast, but we have been spending a lot of time together. Even on my lunch breaks he comes in to see me. He is probably the best thing that has happened to me.
February 15th
Jim came into my work today. I guess he found a pay stub with the address on it and wanted to surprise me for lunch. I was eating a bologna sandwich. Sitting, reading the daily comics in the Chronicle. I looked up to check the time, and there he was. Jim. My husband. Staring at me, jaw dropped, eyes bigger than I had ever seen before. And there I was. White gown, hair net, surrounded by windows looking into an assembly line of women painting rubber dicks. I didn’t say anything. Silence. I had nothing to be ashamed of.
“What the fuck is this place?”
“McLoughlins”
He grabbed my arm and firmly took me outside. Lighting a cigarette, he asked again, “Now what the fuck is this place?”
“I work here. I have been working here. You know this. It’s been over a year now.“ Confrontation never came easily for me. Neither did talking to him seriously.
“So you paint dicks. This is what you do. Everyday. Painting dicks. Why in God’s name would you never tell me about this?”
“Look, my lunch is over. I have to go.”
I walked back inside, and he stayed there, jaw still halfway to the cement.
February 20th-
I have considered leaving Jim for years now. I never thought I could do any better, but with the new influence of Mickey in my life, the thought runs through my head everyday. I called my sister to get a second opinion, but couldn’t manage to tell her the whole truth.
“Well, did you meet somebody else?”
“Not really.”
“Then why leave such a good thing for an idea of a better life?”
“I have to go.”
It wasn’t a good thing, it never was a good thing. It will never be a good thing. Nobody will understand me like Mickey does. Nobody will ever love me like he does.
February 27th-
Jim is growing more and more suspicious. He must know, he has to. We haven’t even touched each other since Mickey came into my life. Mickey even asked me today if I still intended on leaving him. I have to do it. I am going to do it. It is the only thing that makes sense anymore.
February 28th-
Mickey told me today that if I didn’t leave Jim, he would leave me. He said he was sick of feeling like just some toy, he wanted to be more than that. He wanted us to be serious.
March 1st-
Last night Jim walked in on Mickey and I. We were relaxing, having a glass of wine and watching a movie. I explained to him, the only way I knew how, that I wasn’t happy any longer. There was nothing he could do about it. I had fallen in love with someone else. Someone that understood me. Someone simple. No bullshit. I knew he wouldn’t take kindly to the news but I had no idea he would do this. Tearing picture frames off the walls, throwing my clothes into suitcases, screaming uncontrollably, “HOW COULD YOU.” I grabbed Mickey from the shoebox under our bed and left, leaving behind everything I had once loved.
“IS THAT IT?”
I slammed the door behind me and I was gone. I couldn’t help but doubt my decision, but I am here now, at the Sleep Inn next to the plant. Nothing matters anymore. It is just him and I. We. Us. Together. He doesn’t care that I am 42. He loves that I am 42. He says he will pay for everything once he gets his life together. And I know he will. He will.
March 2nd-
I thought Jim would be happy for me. But that doesn’t matter anymore. I am happy for me. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. Even if my family won’t talk to me, it doesn’t matter. There is nothing more beautiful than the relationship Mickey and I have created. Nothing more real.
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