It's time to walk the streets

I got a haircut last night and left the salon feeling like a rock star on her way to play a swanky prom. It was a shame I'd planned to go home and lay in bed with a pint of ice cream. She gave me glorious waves using a nifty-noodle device called a diffuser. These kids and their gadgets. They gave me a free manicure while I waited. My nails are cuticle-free and dainty. I should really go to Queens and make out with a certain someone before the clock hits twelve and I turn back into a dirty, shoeless housemaid.

Zephyr and I went thrift shopping today and I snatched up a gorgeous white pashmina scarf for $20, a Kangol winter hat for $7.50, and a ViX bikini, also $7.50. I checked the bathing suit for signs of, um, usage and found none. Still, a little crotch bleaching never hurt anyone. I also purchased three books, Difficult Women by David Plante, Cock & Bull by Will Self, and The Art of Drowning by Billy Collins.

Collins is involved with the college and I've heard him read a few times. He's a terrific poet and a mighty fine reader. Perhaps I'm violating some law of copyright, but here's a good illustration of his talent:

Monday Morning

The complacency of this student, late

for the final, who chews her pen for an hour,

who sits in her sunny chair,

with a container of coffee and an orange,

a cockatoo swinging freely in her green mind

as if on some drug dissolved,

mingling to give her a wholly ancient rush.

She dreams a little and she fears the mark

she might well get -- a catastrophe --

as a frown darkens the hauteur of her light brow.

The orange peels and her bright senior ring

make her think of some procession of classmates,

walking across the wide campus, without a sound,

stalled for the passing of her sneakered feet

over the lawn, to silent pals and steins,

dorm of nobody who would bother to pull an A or care.

I dig it. This poem makes me want to travel through time and gather up all those delicious moments I spent walking around a campus, thinking about nothing in particular or everything at once, on my way to spend money I barely have at a vending machine because I woke up too late to finish my homework. I should've relished all those times I had to park in the Mass Comm lot and walk all the way to the JUB. I had a lovely life. Nice weather, usually. Not much to complain about. Priveleges I may not ever have again.

I should pay more attention. It's hard to feel bittersweet when you're in the moment because, well, you're there. You can't go to a party, stand at the open bar, and say, "Man, that was a rocking party." You'd sound like a maniac.