Monday, June 19, 2006

You Shouldn't Be Reading This

Hello to Shawn, my wonderful and gorgeous Bamms! And apologies for stealing the title of his brilliant story, but it's only for a day and I promise to give it back!

The strangest things started to happen, the fruit started to glow. I’m not kidding, the entire produce section pulsated. My old life had left, a bored guest at a dinner party that got the coats and cruised. The fruit, that was something else. It wasn’t anything I wanted to eat anyway. Like everybody else, I wanted things to change. When they did, I couldn’t understand it, but I had to anyway. I tried to tell myself it wasn’t that terrible. You deal with things the way you always have and that turns out to be, well, inadequate, like swimming in the current of an already swollen river.

Sometimes when I wake up, my eyes are cut out of my head and things appear behind them that no one could imagine. What could I tell you that I wouldn't want you to know? I don't know any sad stories, just moments and that will have to do. Once I sat in a bar and saw a man sitting alone with a blinking Santa hat, talking to himself. I tried to hear what he was saying, but I couldn't. Some things are not meant to be. And well, if this story has a happy ending, I'll be as surprised as you are.

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells, the less you know." Diane Arbus

Wake-Up Call

One part peppar vodka
One part vodka
a hint of vermouth

This is served like a traditional martini garnished with an olive.

Benedictions and Maledictions

First published in bordersenses:

A Wife That Doesn’t Work

Here we are at the end of it -- this
is the part that often doesn’t go
well -- you know, the moment I
threaten to cut off your dick or kill
myself. So you have to be careful.
The tone is tricky. Too much sadness
and I’ll plead that we should be
together, that I could be your wife
that doesn’t work, the one who gave
up everything for you as well as she
can. Too little pain and I’ll feel
used, betrayed, and I could make my
presence known, the lump in her breast
that turns out to be malignant. You
and I have created kingdoms out
of the tiniest slivers of your life, and I
remember each generic hotel room, but
mostly I feel closest to you when you
are not with me. In those moments you
are the faintest hint of the moon instead
of a man in the shower, trying to erase me.
Marry me so I will not love you anymore.


cindy said...

Michelle (yes Ms. and Missy, but never Miss -- imagine someone calling Angelina Jolie "Miss Jolie" - labels and titles are powerful words and phrases), I love the poem and today's post! And your hair, of course. May the poem be a warning to any -man- who tries to marry you again ;) They are always trying to force their will on us when it comes right down to the nitty gritty . . . . .


Anonymous said...

Diane Arbus must've had one of your Wake-up Call drinks when she said that. The camera doesn't lie.

Anonymous said...

Miss Behavin.

robin said...

Wow, Michelle,
The poem is totally there! Hang on, though, for true love is born through the death of romance. Mary Remains Unmoved has a little competition, now!

robin said...

The term, "Miss," may be seen as a mark of innocence, society proper, but we Southern "Ladies" know the irony of it, an inside joke, if you will.

Sheila said...

I absolutely love the poem. And the title is great, even if it's borrowed! Whenever someone says you shouldn't read this, YOU JUST GOT TO!!! nice post today

Anonymous said...

Shawn Connery? Can you get me his autograph? He was great in the movie Goldfinger. "Do you expect me to talk, Goldfinger?" "No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die." Priceless.

Cheri said...

Michelle, I adore that poem! Never change "dick", no matter what some idiot publisher says. See you tonight!

Anonymous said...

"A Wife That Doesn't Work" won the prestigious John Wayne Bobbitt award.

Anonymous said...

Your poem read my mind. I have been with a married guy for three years and can't stand it anymore. I hate him, but I hate myself more. Any advice? Hopeless in Bloomfield Hills

Cheri said...


Leave the fucker.

Anonymous said...

Go on Jerry Springer.

John said...

Dear Michelle,

Another splendid post; and that shower curtain makes me wonder what's behind it.

The husband? Does he have children? The only detail is whether you want to take him down with you or just go in peace.

Shawn said...

Howdy back, dear Pebbs, and you may borrow at will. I miss you. Will call on Wed. xox, Your Bamms

robin said...

Three years is a long time, so I'd find a counselor or friend, someone who won't judge you, to help you sort things out. What advice would you give your best friend if she was in such a relationship? Write it in a journal.

Anonymous said...

Today's quote: Art is a lie that leads us to the truth.--Picasso

Anonymous said...

A Reply: A lone tree/Stands in a field and asks,/"What is art?"./Art may be both/Eternity/Or an arrogant frame of mind.--Sheldon Tannenbaum

robin said...

Another quote, like Picasso: Gradually, I am recognizing the meaning of my existence through my own myth. --Marion Woodman

Anonymous said...

Myths tell us who we are. All we need is the right interpreter(s).--Anonymous