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.


The seat on this train is warm from someone else's body. There are beer cans rolling around on the floor at ten a.m. A young woman is well asleep, her hair is still wet from her morning shower, head tilted back against the wall, her jaw relaxing until I can see daylight between her lips. She is too young to be so tired.

I am remembering joy, daylight, merriment and I am drunk enough so that I can't stop my body from telling its truth. My hand shoots out to touch his freshly shorn head, the hand attracted to that field of velvet bristle as sure as humming bees to a field of clover.

And now I am standing on a traffic island where the cars hurtle towards me before veering off around the park. I am waiting for the light to change, for the bookstore to open, for the street to be crossed. Again I am drunk on joy and daylight, but I will keep my hands in my pockets and only hum to music in my head.


Blogger cherrydragonut said...

Woozey and Queasey, I threw up at work, grape juice and banana, my
breakfast, still sweet, and purple liquid. I feel sick and separated from everything and everybody as this feeling overcomes me, and our office party is today and there are grapes everywhere, purple grapes, and marzipan, and chocolate coins and dreidles and music boxes and there's a silvery present on my desk with lots of
ribbons and there's Christmas trees everywhere and the sun is so bright and streaming in through the blinds and I feel like the glare is too much, and all I want to do is close my eyes and rest, and my final is Saturday and I have to study and my paper is due and I'm sick of looking at it and I'm just going to reread it and leave it alone, print it out, and we're not holding up the holidays for me until I feel better. They happen every year at the same time for better or for worse, and I will embrace them as I have all week. They ordered tofu especially for me and I eye the rye bread and wonder if I can just make toast and eat it dry and silent. I feel like I'm going to my mother's house. Everyone is festive and chatty, unapproachble, scarey and smiling. I'm in jeans, the only one. Like your pictures. Thanks.

11:55 AM  
Blogger cherrydragonut said...

You know it just hit me, Do you think I willed this nausea on when I said if I write one more paper I was going to throw up? I was only kidding. I have to watch my words. I affirm that I feel wonderful, clear headed and ... Oh oh, "it's lunchtime," "it's partytime." "Partytime."

12:36 PM  

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