But really, pink is my favorite color
2002-10-04 8:44 a.m.
I am Watts! Which Brat Packer Are You?
You can dance if you want to
2002-10-03 3:59 p.m.
I went to a lot of proms in high school and even in college. I skateboarded in high school, so I was friends with the boys who skated and when their respective proms rolled around, I was always the default date. For my junior prom, I brought my friend Nicole, we were just recently single and she had gone to school with us until she went to private school in the 8th grade. I wore a black fitted dress with spaghetti straps and a slit up the back, a black feather boa, black sunglasses, and a little vinyl pink purse, and a neo-beehive. Right out of the late 50s. Nicole wore a light peach satin dress with white stockings and a white feather boa. When I showed up I was a fucking hit. I didn’t know I was going to look sooo different. I always went for a complete vision, and it usually didn’t have to do with the current fashion. I was retro from the day Marilyn and I found her uncle’s old 45s and I discovered Deelite I lived in a small town where big dresses with poufy shoulders and tidal wave bangs still had a stronghold into the mid-nineties. They wanted to re-instate Prom Queen for me. It was sweet, especially from those folks.So yeah folks, the prom is totally going to happen. Anyone who is in the Boston area interested in going, let me know. The goal is 100 people or more so bring it on!
To market, to market
2002-10-03 9:55 a.m.
My morning routine is becoming like a well rehearsed skit. 5am, let kitty out the window next to my bed. Alarm goes off, press snooze button twice. Get up. Get dressed. Brush. Unlock the bolt, walk onto the street. Walk up a half block and cross to the left side of the street. A couple of blocks up, three children come onto to the sidewalk 15 feet before I get there. I go around them, pretending as if I don’t notice them or the cigarette the 11-year-old girl is smoking. Cross the street, and as I near the top of the hill, a bus, the same bus, goes from right to left in my field of vision. I turn left and I’m at the bus stop same 5 people already there. I sit on the curb, they stare for a moment as I rummage through my purse. They are bona fide go-getters; at the bus stop early. A couple, I think, or roommates. The guy, forgettable, tall, fresh haircut, cheap suit. The girl is short, curly back hair, fit although some might say a little thick in the bottom. Did you ever see that awful MTV reality show about the girls trying to get into the sorority? She looks like the girl Mara. Then there are two girls about my age that might as well be sisters, thin, mousy brown, good tans, and trendy uncomfortable shoes. One of the girls always talks to this older woman; I would venture to guess that they work together. The woman is short and pear shaped with bad suits and red hair cut like a medieval friar. They talk in a way that only two women twenty years apart can: by stating the obvious and repeating those things back to each other worded differently.I left me lemons and pepper at the T stop today.
After covering the front desk for a half hour, I went down to Haymarket to get some lemons. Nothing was open so I went to Quincy Market. At 9 am, Quincy Market is like a sleeping circus. With no one around and the still fresh smells of food and peanuts and incense seeming to seethe from the brick and stone, I felt like someone was still sleeping and I was walking through their dream. I felt like I should step quietly in the fog. And I did.
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