Sunday, May 14, 2006

A Misson For My Sins



Once I went into a food coma. It was at a place in Ponder, Texas called Babe's. Waitresses served food family style and chicken fried steaks the size of plates. I went here a couple of weeks after my beloved Daddy died. It was a strange day -- I mowed a little strip of my friend Angela's yard (in high heels and a denim skirt, much to the laughter of her neighbors who said -- That's how a poet mows the lawn!). We (meaning the dearest and nearest friends I have who kept me sane and going during such bleak hours) went to dinner. The food pushed us to insanity and overeating. I usually starve when I'm sad, but not that day. However, the most interesting part of Babe's was a man who showed up in an orange jumpsuit with huge hair, Conway Twitty hair, obviously meeting his lover, another man with mousse issues. I made up an instant history for Conway about how he lived in this small town and kept his love life a secret from his aging mother and that Babe's was the only place loud enough not to draw attention to his date because no one would go to such a place for intimacy. The operative word about Babe's was family style. Okay, so my instant history stole a lot of Tennessee Williams, but I swear Conway's eyes met mine, like we understood about each other, how fucked up lives could become and how hidden and how good it was to have big hair (I've never really grown out of that, being a child of Texas and the 1980s). I loved his orange outfit, his hair, his aura. I've been there since that time and he's always there. A regular. I love that. I don't go often -- I'm too afraid of food. But it's BYOB and with enough alcohol and the right dietary regime (no food for many days), I'm raring to dig into the offerings. I'll always remember the first night, though, eating until I thought I would be sick and then swinging on some old playground, shouting out lines from Apocolyspe Now, before throwing myself into the abyss or off the swing, but that's so much less dramatic, now isn't it? I needed a mission for my sins, I thought, but then again, who doesn't?

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"When God hands you a talent, He also gives you a whip." Truman Capote

I discovered a great new vodka mix called Jenn's. It's flavored vodka, which spares you the trouble of mixing. It's a simple spell, but an effective one. My favorite flavor is the green apple, like drinking a big old Jolly Rancher.

Benedictions and Maledictions

First published in The Oak

Shabby in the Light

This is what I know:
my secrets are not yours.
Even if I give them to you,
their value lies in hoarding,
magazine clippings I think
I’ll use to help decorate
a house I might own someday.
They look shabby in the light,
useless and thin as they flutter
from my hands to yours,
even when we’re being careful.

4 comments:

Cheri said...

Michelle,

Those vodka mixes sound interesting, drinking a piece of candy. The sweetness makes my stomach ache but the flavor makes it all worth it.

Anonymous said...

Michelle,

you don't need a mission for your sins, that's a male paradigm :)
(They most certainly do -- in the desert, alone with scorpions)

You look lovely and amazing, to steal from the movie title, a great move about women instead of the usual drivel about men and their pathetic buddies.

xo
Cindy

Anonymous said...

I love the latest post, sweetie -- and the photogenic smile. Not to mention the poem, which is elegant in its simplicity.

Anonymous said...

My Queen, beautiful as all get out like always. It's a bummer that Twitty City no longer exists. Now there was a place. But how about those foxy Twitty Birds? And what could be finer than the man's rockin' rendtion of "O Danny Boy"? But Mt. Clemens, is that dude kidding? Cass rules! Old Miami forever! We got a barstool out for you any time. Pizza can be delivered. Come see and you'll like it.