Her Two Cents
Over the weekend I volunteered at a local arts festival in my neighborhood. Nine hours of live music, pottery, prints, paintings, books, and esoterica like jewelry made from grape vines or old forks. (And twelve hours of carrying chairs, carrying tables, carrying crates of pottery, and sweeping up cigarette butts.) When I wasn’t moving items I had time to sit back and people watch – and the crowd did not disappoint! Shapeless little old folks with frizzy white hair walking along-side equally shapeless skinny black jeans and dreadlocks. Past, present, and tomorrow colliding in a two-block span. I’m of an age where I kind of missed tattoos as a fashion statement – you either had to go down to the Navy yard (Hello??!!) or NYC. Not convenient at all. Plus, I worried that I’d start a tattoo and not be able to stand the pain – thus being left with a couple of permanent squiggles on the body part of my choice. So, my body remains a blank canvas. As I watched the multi-colored sleeves and designs pass by I realized I inhabit an in-between land. Admiring beauty from another place, another time… another girl, another planet. It’s a little unsettling. ~ Last week while searching for swan poems (see Thursday’s post) I found this funny little self-deprecating gem from Portland. While it wasn’t the right fit for that particular musing, I think it’s perfect for today and is complemented nicely by this unattributed image from Frankie Leone’s Borough of Lost Boys Facebook feed. We all have different stories about American Beauty.
Swan Mart Boy, I Kind Of Love You
Missed Connections from Portland
The guy with the boyish good looks and the pretty brown eyes.
Maybe it’s just that you seem so out-of-context in a miscellaneous minute-market that I only frequent for its proximity to my apartment (y’all are totally overpriced!!!). . .but there’s something about you that’s disarmingly attractive.
You look youngish, which could mean you’re my age OR could mean you’re in high school or something, which makes me really super creepy.
I really hope you’re well above the legal age of consent, for my own peace of mind.
You make my sporadic trips to the Swan Mart significantly more fun and also infinitely more stressful.
I get all flustered and awkward whenever I take my selected purchases up to your counter.
This is usually made a lot worse because typically these shopping trips only happen when I look like shit and am buying something really weird that I’m too embarrassed to get from a “normal” grocery store (or I just need it quickly and don’t want to travel further).
The list of bizarre things I have purchased from your store while you were working includes
a) copious amounts of ice cream,
b) various packs of cigarettes (I’m not even a smoker!)
c) Mad Dog 20/20 (I swear I had a good excuse for buying that. . ..actually, no, never in history has there been a good excuse for buying Mad Dog), and
d) Spicy brown mustard. By itself. The only bottle you had, of course, because who buys mustard from a minute market?! . . .Me.
I’m in a committed & happy relationship, so if you figure out who this is and are totally creeped out, or if you have a girlfriend or something, no worries!
I’m not a threat and I’m not trying to mack on you.
I just know how much I appreciate sincere compliments that come from out-of-the-blue, so I thought you might like to know that one of your regular customers thinks you’re totally cute.
Actually, two customers do–my roommate agrees with me.
Sincerely, your secret admirer[s].