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.

10.18.2007

My co-worker asks me if I want anything from the store. “Two hours of sleep, please.” I came home on Tuesday night to a notice taped to my front door. It was from DEP, letting me know they were turning off my water the next morning for repairs, and giving me dire warnings about what might happen if I didn’t turn off my water main, refill my boiler with cold water, flush my taps, etc. So I rolled and tossed all night, anticipating a 6AM call to my plumber, and wondering what would happen if I couldn’t get hold of him, and what might happen to my building’s plumbing, and how would I get the main turned back on, and where the hell is it anyway, and generally making myself miserable.

It wound up not being a big deal. Although I did have to go get a long-handled screw-driver to use as a cheater bar to turn the tired valve. Thank you to the guy who said “Give me a lever and a place to stand, and I could lift the world” and thank you to my tired brain, even if I can’t remember his name, I remember the application.

Determined to sleep long and hard last night I went out and had three fancy martinis with dinner. I paid for two, the bartender slid me the third. That should have done the trick, or at least I was hoping it would, as this particular concoction was called “Esperanza,” but for the cab drivers arguing outside my window at 4.30AM, starting a set of pancake hours that lasted until I got up in disgust at 7.30.

Tonight is our annual gala, my opportunity to serve the wealthy and examine them up close. I kid you not, last year we auctioned off a diamond tiara. That had been owned by Adele Bloch-Bauer, yeah, you know her, that one, who commissioned her portrait by Klimt. Perhaps after working 14 or 15 hours straight I will sleep through the night.

All this to say, even though I have things to say, I’m not in lyrical mode.

2 Comments:

Blogger four inches of ego said...

If you ever find the shop that sells two hours of sleep, please let us know.

And, I know that gala. Well not that one, but one like it. I never felt so outside in my life... so very on display. And this from the performance artist.

7:22 AM  
Blogger ttractor said...

If I ever find a shop that sells sleep I am cornering the market and jacking the price way the hell up. I got a future to think about, y'know?

Thank god we don't do the gala thing too often, and it is made clear to me in so many ways that I have aged out of being a display item. But the difference between these people and those their pocket change is going to serve, that's simply mind-bending.

(man! I sound cranky! to much coffee, too little sleep)

6:08 PM  

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