Posts from August, 2008
On the ferry back to Manhattan last night, 10:00.
GIRL A: “Bitch, how many months are you?”
GIRL B: “Six.”
GIRL A: “You know what you havin’?”
GIRL B: “First they said a boy, then a girl, now they say they ain’t know.”
GIRL A: “Maybe it all them forties you been drinkin’, bitch.”
GIRL B: “Ha, I ain’t no Des’ree. Stupid mother fucker.”
GIRL A: “That bitch? She done had the kid three months early. I was still a heavy eight, and she laid with Damon behind my muthafuckin’ back.”
GIRL B wisely ignores this line of conversation, leaving a few precious seconds of silence before one of the group’s sleeping babies wakes with a cry.
These girls couldn’t have been older than seventeen. Each of them is holding a child, and with the exception of one who doesn’t appear to be pregnant, each of them is developing another one. That’s six girls, six babies, and five robust baby bumps.
The New Yorker has it right, children suffer indignities that adults would never stand for.
They’ve covered the Party, Capitol Hill, and Garage scenes. But surely there are others.
I was about to write the 44th Floor Cubicle scene, until I realized that mid-level managers are already subject to the indignities of grammar school. Oh well.
Much as some try to convince us otherwise, rubber is not sexy. But, to me, keeping your new suede slingbacks dry is.
That said, I’m not in love with Shuella’s aesthetic, but I think they’ve beaten wellies here, if only because you don’t have to tote around five pounds worth of floppy boots when the rain doesn’t make good on its threat.
Still, these are a bit too Uhura for the everyday ensemble.
And on that note, October is coming up – they could make a great costume piece.
Sunday night brought a familiar sense of sudden dread.
I had been sick all day with a fever, not able to go outside and enjoy one of the last free days in the summer heat humidity. And since I wasn’t out having fun, a familiar notion of waste was gnawing at me, spending an entire day on the couch:
Jessica, did you do the dishes? I know you didn’t finish your budget work. What about the bills? And all that mail on your desk? The refrigerator is both empty and dirty. And just think of the light switches – the very dirty light switches which you did not clean.
It was especially bad since there was nothing left in the Tivo but the Olympics. (Wasn’t it nice when USA Basketball linked arms and stepped onto the platform together? Yes, yes it was.)
Eric was kind enough to play caretaker and stopped working to watch the latest Netflix arrival, Ratatouille, with me, which was awesome, both of Eric and of Brad Bird. But as the credits rolled, it was 6:45, and suddenly the sun was sinking. The sick kid-on-the-couch in me was wailing: But It’s Still Summer…
I’ve been looking forward to fall for weeks now, bemoaning the 80+ temperatures and wet heat shoved on us by M. Nature. A week ago, I was more than ready to embrace the early sunset. But in this last week before Labor Day, I’m reliving all those childhood summers when I’d start to panic about school being inflicted upon me yet again. New pencils and pens and notebooks and folders were just the pretty trappings of prison.
Seeing now that it was wise of my parents to start scheduling our annual Jersey shore trips in this last week, when I’d only have a day to notice that fall was moving in and my freedom moving out, now I’m looking for something to distract me. In all my post-school years, I’ve never felt the dread quite so accutely.
Even though it’s business as usual here in the adult world, it feels like there’s a nasty change to come. More work. More seriousness. More stuff that must get done. Mo’ money, mo’ problems. (Just that last part, actually.)
It’s funny to try to shoo away the feelings of a nine year old all these years later. Even though I won’t be reporting in to the new (and soon-to-be-found-awesome) third-grade teacher, Mrs. Duemesi (who ate Cool Ranch Doritos on her pizza!) those feelings are just as real now as they were then:
Please don’t make me go.
Even though I want corduroys and sweaters and knitting to be appropriate again; even though I want a crisp fall breeze and auburn leaves on the ground; even though I haven’t actually been on summer vacation and I don’t have to go back to school, I vehemently feel the cry of summer can’t be over already.
Anyone up for a trip to the beach?