dis/traction
This morning I caused a guy to walk into a door.
It had nothing to do with me; it had to do with spring. Let me start a little further back.
He came into Celia’s; I made him a drink. It was busy. By the time he was walking out I was on to the next drink, or perhaps the one after that. But I always try to say goodbye to everyone. When it’s busy, no one expects that.
So as he was pushing open the door he happened to glance back, and I flashed a big smile, and he got that Surprised Boy expression and then he banged right into the doorframe. I pretended not to notice.
And though I have my cute moments, I am not the sort of girl that guys walk into doorframes over. I’m not being self-deprecating here or fishing for compliments. I know those girls; some of them are my friends and we go out together. Guys around those girls tend to drop things and lose their train of thought and feel inspired towards alarming acts of idiocy. It’s sort of amusing and sort of tiresome, but that’s a different post.
The point is, I’m not one of those girls. And Bam, there he went. Because I am not the only one itching for spring.
Last night was Fat Tuesday and plenty of that wanting spilled out onto the streets. Two flights up on the Crystal Ballroom’s bouncing dancefloor, midriffs and ass cracks made early appearances. We are collectively hungry for heat.
Sometimes crowds infuriate me. Sometimes the noise and the pushing make me feel downright violent. But last night I had crowd euphoria, where every unknown hand on my back and every sudden smell of pineapple body lotion made me feel like part of an eager, animated organism. Here in this last half of February we are feeling inappropriately racy. We are feeling high on possibility. We are giddily unfocused. We are walking into doors.
March might be a Mess.
posted by tortaluga @ 6:38 PM
2 Comments:
I did something like that once, except it was a cute geology girl and I shattered my hand with a rock hammer.
Okay not really, but you've got to admit it's a hot fantasy. I mean I can't be the only one who gets light-headed at the sight of a girl on a roadcut with her Brunton compass, Jacob staff, and tape measure caculating the throw of that thrust fault and, um... uhhh ... bedding planes ... kink folds ... cleavage ... Moh's hardness scale. Holy sweet Jesus. What was your post about again?
march might be a BIG mess. I'm pretty sure jules and I haven't done anything but ride bikes and go out for the last few weeks. and (in a singy voice) i'm goooooing to Beeeeerkeleeeeeeyyy in a couple weeks! oh what fun that will be. there are many doorframes available there, I here.
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