You Can Have All The Blood

Once for a high school science fair, I bought a bucket of blood from the slaughterhouse. They didn't charge me much -- just a dollar for the bucket and nothing for the blood. We got it coming out of our ears, here, honey, the old man at the helm said. You can have all the blood you damned well please. I'd gotten it in my head that I would do a project on how fast blood could coagulate. Not everyone was impressed with my second place ribbon or the fact that I'd gone to such lengths to procure an entire heavy bucket that I had to carry with my weak arms all the way back home given that I'd gone by myself and told no one my idea. One of my dad's friends, a brilliant physics guy who'd lost a leg in a plane crash, said that he couldn't believe what stupid ideas won ribbons these days. I couldn't really backtalk him, given his fucked up leg and his mean parrot named Rudy who was prone to swooping down and biting people. I hated that bird with his clipped wings and mean eyes. He could only fly a little around the house, and it had made him bitter. For holidays, Rudy's mother would put colored ribbons on his little parrot head which served to make him look even more evil.

The blood did not conform to my expectations. It was not a smooth liquid -- there were chunks of it that had not broken up. You could hold pieces of it in your hand, which I did. I took some polaroids of it for my poster. I showed it in its different stages. Some parts of it were very dark, others seemed almost pink. You can't generalize about blood. This was in the early eighties and people were becoming fearful of blood in a way they hadn't been before. A few years later, I'd get into an argument with my high school history teacher about the rights of people with AIDS. Do you want the person at McDonald's serving you your orange juice with AIDS? I knew the people who worked at our local McDonald's and frankly was more afraid of their personal hygiene skills than I was of getting AIDS in my orange juice. I stood my ground. You can't get it that way, I argued. I thought back to my bucket, which I'd dipped my hands into many times, just to see what it would look like if I was covered in blood. Like Lady MacBeth, I could still see it sometimes. The bucket had been so heavy, covered with a crappy plastic lid, and I couldn't help but slosh a little on the street as I walked home, leaving a trail.

Michelle's Spell of the Day

"You got no say over your heart. And if you think you do, you'd best not let yours roam too far. " Come Early Morning

Cocktail Hour

Drinking movie suggestion: Come Early Morning

Benedictions and Maledictions

Happy Holy Saturday!

ONE more day until The Sopranos airs!