I WILL SURVIVE
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moon phases � |
Another time? Another place? Just this afternoon.
After taking a shower with my daughter today, I had the "pleasure" of combing the kids hair. Her hair is alot like mine - straight and fine and oh so knotable.
Time travel. A junior high school girls locker room. Choking chlorine fumes and a terrible echo. Uncomfortable exposure and chills down the back of my legs. A true friend with orange hair and aaawful knots (know as G.W.s) needs help getting a comb through her hair so the rest of the day can happen with only moderate discomfort. The task is time consuming and mezmerizing. So much better than looking at the other girls in our gym class as they try to remove the chlorine from themselves before they go off to more acedemic persuits. We are supposed to feel fortunate that we have swimming as a part of our gym spastications. We are one of the few schools in the early 70's to have a pool in the school. It sucks, being wet and chlorinated for the rest of the day. Taken apart and only able to do limited damage control before moving on to the next class. Delicate sense of self esteem cracked from all that exposure and scrutiny.
My daughter doesn't like to have her hair combed. She won't allow anyone but me to do it, and often fights the concept. She hasn't realized grooming is an important social activity for primates. One day she will decide to have her hair washed, cut, combed, and curled by a complete stranger. She will pay alot of money for the service.
I hope she has a friend who will sometimes do a combing for free.
I hope her conversations will be best out of the salon chair.
Maybe she will shave her head. ( I want to touch her bald head again even if it has a tatoo)
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My dessicated love life continues to scatter to the four winds. Valentines day was an exercise in appearances. He actually told me the kid wanted me to have a present so I would be getting one. (wouldn't want me to get the wrong idea and think he thought it up himself) She knows something is not right. Ever since the banana incident she has been reminding me daddy will not talk loud to me anymore. My soul is cracking.
Same old... he has always operated from the idea that physcial contact precedes emotional contact. Well, I dont think I need to get too into detail for the female side of the universe to see the flaw in that philosophy. I can easlily enjoy a zipless fuck with a hunk of the month, but if I have to live with it it better be marginally present. I can get appliances that can do the job without the bullshit if all I want is physical. For that matter a good mutual grooming with a pal is nice for that too (see above). Zipless fucks do not require laundry to be done or bookkeeping or dodge the underwear housekeeping. Husbands apparently do, hence the need for a greater payback. Your may scratch your head and ask, "what about unconditional love?". Well, don't you think housekeeping is a condition for me?
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I want to SEE again. I want to give a shit about the state of the world my child will inherit. I want to rhyme again. I want to ride a very big rollercoaster and scream my head off. I want to play in the woods with goats and hear the plants talk. I want winter to end soon, so I can feel the breeze on my skin.
I WILL SURVIVE.
written at 22:28:39
2001-02-17
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