been awhile since i rapped at ya

my lovelies, my coney's, my doves.

i am not really so gone.

i am coming back.

i have been terribly remiss. please bear with me another 10 days or so. the girlie and i are taking flight and taking wing and will hopefully return with many a story.

all things good and squishy.

m

a rose, by any other name

"how about campbell?"

"campbell? like campbell soup? 'hi there soupy sales. you smell like soup. we hate you!' no way."

i've always had a knack for naming things. barbies, pets, cars- you name it, i could name it. like a motherfucker. a motherfucker, i tells ya.

i was such a good namer that, as a kid, the other girls used to step to me and try to steal my names for their own. they'd show up at school with a stuffed cat named 'daisy' and try to play it off like they didn't know that i knew that they took the name from my malibu stacie doll.

in junior high, i made up names for my imaginary twins, a boy and a girl. (my dad was a twin as were his pairs of older and younger brothers, so i just assumed twins were in the offing for me.)

"what about scarlet?"

"scarlet? like scarlet o'hara? 'frankly scarlet, i don't give a damn?' never."

but now, here i was, with the funnest naming expedition ever. finding the perfect monniker for my own child, and it was becoming a cold winters slog through the gulag.

i came up with lists and lists and he hated everything. it looked like i'd have a 'baby girl x' suckling sometime in the near future. which is sorta, kinda cute, in that 'i heart minister farrakhan' way.

on march 7th, she showed up. three weeks early. baby girl x. a little wisp of a fairy girl. all heart shaped face and teacup blue eyes.the hospital folks kept pestering us to name her, but our collective wells were dry.

then, i had a neat memory. i used to see this cute asian skate boarder when our high school football team would play his. he was smart and sparkly and he gave me a wonderful nickname. everytime i heard his voice say the name, it sounded like the prettiest one in the world.

it made me feel like a different girl. someone self assured and happy, a girl who danced through life with a giggle and a swagger. a girl with a light breeze in her hair and the sun at her back. i felt like that girl would have a really cool life.

i looked at baby girl x and wondered if she might like this name. if it might bring her luck. i whispered it in her ear. it sounded nice. real nice.

the bard himself asked 'what's in a name?' and you might too. but, i'll tell you what- she is the smartest, happiest, deepest, prettiest little girl i ever did meet.

coincidence?

you decide.

silver lining

my level of non-enjoyment upon receiving the mass email was vast and high.

its cloyingly loving tendrils reached out in a neon pink san serif font:

"did you know that AT LEAST 6 people love you enough to die for you?!" (a) i'm pretty sure not b) ewww. gross. there ain't a single person i want dyin' on my behalf. i'll take my own damn death when it comes for me.)

"did you kow that if you hugged everyone who secretly loves you, that the energy from that love could power a small village for a week??!!!"

on and on it goes. feel good pablum that makes me feel so bad. there's this terrific picture entitled "my squid suit makes me feel isolated." for some reason, that's the feeling i get upon receiving generic messages of love and brotherhood.

same thing for greeting cards and anthemic love songs.

but yesterday, i discovered a delicious, idiosyncratic truffle of 'you-are-not-alone-ness.' a look at my site meter revealed that someone found me using the google search-

"if i were jack the ripper, would you still kiss me?"

the fact that i can't quickly explain why and how much that means to me, makes it mean more. i opened their search page.

i saw the quote, in all small letters, and a list of potential 'hits.' two of them were my site. one was a beulah fan site, another was a music lover who had also written about magnetic fields and beat happening.

i felt all connected and happy knowing that someone, somewhere, was sitting at their computer querying this lyric. i don't know why. i don't know what they were hoping to find.

but they found me.

and suddenly my squid suit feels less isolating.

ahhhhhhh.

ma vie en vert

my new career
Originally uploaded by imperialviolet.

the white escalade rolls to a halt. tinted window slides down.

"are you a model?"

i look around to see who he's propositioning, but since the homeless dude with the gaping forearm gash doesn't respond, i say-

"me? no."

"would you like to be a model?"

my inner public service announcement is warning me of 'stranger danger' but i hate to be rude, so I answer.

"no, thanks."

"not even for two thousand dollars an hour?"

i laugh, and for the first time, take a good look at him.

"what kind of 'modeling' are we talking about?"

"very classy. print work. french magazine."

ah, oui? you don't say? 2K an hour for some classy french stills eh?

like, me eating a baguette with brie perhaps?

or me, in a beret and red stripey shirt acting haughty and reading celine?

sign me up! my non-winner days are over, folks. no more promotional hoaxes for this jeune fille.

just piles and piles of filthy francs and sexy pics.

c'est bon!