Saturday, November 30, 2013

monofilament


there were women in que to have monofilament threaded just beneath the skin on their face to change the shape of it. i kept watching the procedure thinking that the doctor performing it would show some indication that he was selling snake oil, but he kept up his charming banter as he moved the women through his chair in assembly line fashion. all the women were chattering like birds and i wondered if a critical line of thought had ever passed between any of their ears.

as each woman got up from the chair after the procedure, they ooohed and ahhhed in approval of each other but the results were actually crude and nightmarish, the skin visibly draping on either side of the anchor point. 'oh that will go away, don't worry.' the doctor said. the women believed his words and not their eyes.

george


i thought i was there because of a party, but rigging equipment was everywhere and so many people were talking logistics of the upcoming shoot that it was quickly apparent it was only work couched in mild socializing, bottom shelf booze and crappy hors devours. the grounds and mansion were huge. at first it was difficult to find anyone because it was so crowded, but soon enough familiar faces popped up and i made small talk as i moved through the crowd and mapped out my route and quick exit. i spotted a woman i loathed and narrowly avoided being the audience for another of her chronic brain killing, depressive monologues when i managed to duck out of sight and move on before she caught sight of me. just then someone caught my sleeve and said, 'george is here.' 'you're kidding' i said, 'where?' he pointed up some stairs and i made a beeline. i entered the kitchen and saw george surrounded (as usual...) by a laughing knot of people as he told another of his stories. i just waited quietly and enjoyed his beautiful energy and thought about how he made everyone feel they mattered. after he delivered his punchline, waldo grinned, tugged his sleeve and said, 'look who's here'. george turned to me and said 'shandra!'. we shared a bear hug and just laughed. he said, 'why, what...where have you been?'. i answered, 'dude, you have a buffer zone'. 'oh yeah, that.' he said and laughed. we then exchanged numbers, laughed some more and waldo asked me to scratch his back before i took off.

as i drove down the mountain, i turned my music up loud and felt all the happy.

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

inglorious ending


the problem was that the political types wanted to advertise it as 'the little american town that made the biggest sacrifice'. their plan was to move all the graves away from the main road, tuck the cemetery far off the beaten path, force visitors through a labyrinth of roads (all containing souvenir shops) that finally shepherded the morbidly patriotic unavoidably through our 're-imagined' town center where they could enjoy freedom fries and cokes before they jumped back on the interstate. for those of us who had lost the loved ones entombed there the only thing that made any sense was to leave the graveyard where it stood; a thousand identical white headstones planted right next to the unsentimental ribbon of tarmac that had taken their shining, living faces away and brought back empty, cold vessels to lay in the ground and sleep every night under a blanket of dense diesel particulate matter and sweet, pure hometown dew. there was nothing glorious about it.

in the end we won, but only after much debate and heartache had opened all the old wounds. the military  recruitment station at the high-school still took their quota and the silent coffins kept trickling back in.