jolie laide

jolie laide

I started this when I lived in Brooklyn and struggled for grace in a city that grants moments of beauty and ugliness breathtakingly close to one another. Now I live in a place where things are a different kind of ugly and the beauty is pedestrian. I struggle with that.


It's strange to see New Yorkers unencumbered, with no shopping bags, purses, messenger bags, groceries we are always schlepping. So he already gets my notice for having nothing in his hands.

During this heat wave he is doing what I recognize from growing up down south. He has waited for the sun to go down, for the coolness of the night, to go for a run. Standing at the light, waiting for it to turn, in contrast to all the young people dressed for a night in the East Village, a night of drinking, flirting, gabbing, he is wearing practically nothing. Only tiny shorts and a pair of sneakers

And tattoos. A deck of cards over his heart, a pair of swallows diving down the smooth hills of his hipbones. As he runs past I know I have seen him before, he has a pair of wings inked to his back, making him a swooping angel, sweat slicked, sleek, traversing the intersection, then gone.


Blogger remue-menage said...

I always run in the evenings - when I run (which is seldom)

for a period of time I was running the stairs at the Empire State Plaza here in Albany

I feel more unobtrusive - as if running is something I have to do in secret. perhaps it's because I feel so awkward - my stocky frame was not built for such abuse

still - I have another friend who is training for a marathon ... makes me think if I had the gumption I could do it too

10:03 AM  
Blogger ttractor said...

r-m, the NYC marathon goes right by my house. I get goosebumps just thinking about it. It is a gorgeous, heartbreaking, wonderful stream of humanity. And if you saw some of the sizes and shapes that go by, you would think you could do it too (that's what finally inspired me. that, and the guy with no feet who threw me his marathon jersey. goosebumps, yes)

10:40 AM  
Blogger Miscellanie said...

Hello, I meant to say something last week about starting to read here, to be checking in here: an image of a waitress at Le Gamin on Dean Street with a heart on the back of each calf. One had a skull in it, her ponytail swaying endlessly down her back singing "endlessly." Have you seen her? A fan note: thank you for your arresting images.

9:48 PM  
Blogger ttractor said...

I've been lurking over by you too, feeling too dorky to comment without introduction. I haven't been to Le Gamin in a while....last time it was fairly empty and so we got the overattention of a sweetly inept waiter dude. If I venture down Vanderbilt I am usually Beast-ing (despite similarly inept waitpeople).

OK, I will admit it...I loved being a waitress. I loved feeding people, I loved helping them pick something they would really enjoy, I liked trying to adjust my approach to what they wanted to get out of their experience. So careless wait-work irritates me!

9:37 AM  

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