Week 12 Day 3
What happens in New York? Music, Art. Hmmmm. The Bolshoi Ballet was here, but I did not go. Not enough money you see. If only I was a whore. I was faintly embarrassed in Soho yesterday, for my look - plain, glasses, no make-up, sweats, old holey running shoes, unwaxed shins peering out. We saw "March of the Penguins," and although the writing was weak, the stars were adorable, cuddly things. The papa penguin keeps the baby egg balanced on his feet under his fur for months, through snow storms and 70 below and northern lights. Then a babe emerges, I love babies! I ate too much popcorn though.
In New York it is just a big fancy dress party and I'm not invited because my dresses don't fit no more. I did break down to Aaron tonight, poor Aaron. "I don't feel comfortable here!" I wailed, "I can't find anything, like cranberry juice or soil." I need the cran juice for my burning bladder and the soil for my poor baby plant, my trial run baby. Aaron went to Whole Foods to get me stuff - it took him 2 hours. He couldn't take the car, because where was he going to park in Union Square? The logistics of New York are illogical. Good for staying thin, though, if you're not pregnant.
Look at where I live - the LES, where all the immigrants came to live in tenements. They came with their heartss full of hope and worked mighty hard, laboring long hours so that they could create a better life. It's quite inspirational really, to think of how these newbies transformed their situations, educated their children, etc. Hey, my parents were like that too!
But now I've become part of the brat generation - expecting things upon demand, not liking long hours that get in the way of my "lifestyle," waiting for the next technology boom to get rich quick or at least my real estate to appraise higher. I read that 20-somethings can't commit to any career and that they often steal things from their parents, not for drugs or anything, but just because they want their parents' stuff. "That's despicable!" I said about the younger generation. But then: I took a Persian rug from my mom's house 7 years ago when I moved out and she still remembers it, expects it back. "Forget it mom, it's mine now." There's also her black sequinned sari from India which I now have. I vaguely recall her giving it to me, but she doesn't at all.
So karma has given me a bladder infection. It is not fun. I had heard that pregnant women get it, but I thought I'd escape it due to my love of water. I don't like water anymore. It tastes weird and makes me nauseous. Then me and my lover were copulating today when bam - it burned on my pee pee place. I was courageous and kept going. Finally I said, "I can't take it anymore."
"Can you take it for one more sec?" said my lover. He's lovely though, he travelled far to fetch me cranberry juice afterwards.
In New York it is just a big fancy dress party and I'm not invited because my dresses don't fit no more. I did break down to Aaron tonight, poor Aaron. "I don't feel comfortable here!" I wailed, "I can't find anything, like cranberry juice or soil." I need the cran juice for my burning bladder and the soil for my poor baby plant, my trial run baby. Aaron went to Whole Foods to get me stuff - it took him 2 hours. He couldn't take the car, because where was he going to park in Union Square? The logistics of New York are illogical. Good for staying thin, though, if you're not pregnant.
Look at where I live - the LES, where all the immigrants came to live in tenements. They came with their heartss full of hope and worked mighty hard, laboring long hours so that they could create a better life. It's quite inspirational really, to think of how these newbies transformed their situations, educated their children, etc. Hey, my parents were like that too!
But now I've become part of the brat generation - expecting things upon demand, not liking long hours that get in the way of my "lifestyle," waiting for the next technology boom to get rich quick or at least my real estate to appraise higher. I read that 20-somethings can't commit to any career and that they often steal things from their parents, not for drugs or anything, but just because they want their parents' stuff. "That's despicable!" I said about the younger generation. But then: I took a Persian rug from my mom's house 7 years ago when I moved out and she still remembers it, expects it back. "Forget it mom, it's mine now." There's also her black sequinned sari from India which I now have. I vaguely recall her giving it to me, but she doesn't at all.
So karma has given me a bladder infection. It is not fun. I had heard that pregnant women get it, but I thought I'd escape it due to my love of water. I don't like water anymore. It tastes weird and makes me nauseous. Then me and my lover were copulating today when bam - it burned on my pee pee place. I was courageous and kept going. Finally I said, "I can't take it anymore."
"Can you take it for one more sec?" said my lover. He's lovely though, he travelled far to fetch me cranberry juice afterwards.
posted by Mama at 4:42 PM
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