Thursday, April 7, 2016

Turn On, Tune In, Drop Out


I almost forgot how pretty you are,
And how something suspicious
surrounds you.
I am overwhelmed;
swallowing dirt
just to have something hit my lips.
Tune in: what’s that?
Nope, no one is sitting here.
I’ve lost my appetite.


I tune in just in time,
Why didn’t I write that down?
I follow this thought to a more civilized place -
How perfectly wretched,
Echoing in a British accent.
Eyes roll.
Page turns.
Sighs deep.
So deep, so deep,
Helm’s Deep.
Wait, how in the middle-earth did I get here?


I am surrounded by mothers.
Some Soon-to-be,
Others Wannabe.
Shouldn't I be
tuned in by now?
That palm reader in Queens said
I'd be a mother to three.
Seems improvident.
Highly improbable.
Somehow impossible.

Mutual Interests

I've been thinking a lot about mutual interests.

Well, only since I decided not to put my purse on the floor in the bathroom because the opening scene of A Visit from the Goon Squad involves theft in that exact scenario.

That, in turn, reminded me of a recent experience trying to date online in NYC. I messaged a handsome journalist who had accidentally typed, "A Visit from the Good Squad" to alert him to his error, hoping to show that I too am a writer, and I have read this book! Mutual interests!

"Ha Ha," he wrote, "what a different book that would make!"

We met for whiskey and ramen. Had a great time, and awkwardly said goodbye, hoping to see each other again. In an effort to clinch a second date, I followed his suggestion and read some of his work.

I immediately found a typo. This time, more embarrassingly, on a national publication rather than an already embarrassing OKCupid profile. The first time landed me a date, so I thought it would be advantageous to point out another flaw.

It turns out, men don't like to be reminded of their mistakes.

I even went the positive route - praise and affection. Support and admiration. Acceptance of awkwardness.

Compared with tales of former lovers, this was new, I wanted to be positive in my criticism. Bright and shiny, wide-eyed. I tread carefully into a constructed world where all are welcome (but only allegorically).

It turns out, men don't like to be reminded of their imperfections.

I'm so bad at this. I once painted a man so deep into a corner that the only way out was to tell me, "You're pretty". Impossible to recover: Nobody puts Baby in the corner.

It turns out, men don't like to be reminded of their lack of attention to detail. Note to self: stop dating creative types who's lives depend on post-it notes.