BMW - 7 series

Last night as I left a crowded restaurant bordering Hillcrest, I locked eyes with a man standing in line as I tried to squeeze myself into the tiniest possible me and get out of there without a panic attack. I knew he was gay because I was watching him earlier, wrists flailing, weight resting on one leg as he stood talking to his boyfriend. I wanted him to smile at me when I squeezed past him, to say something funny, like I've known gay men to do, to comfort me, as I was obviously (in my own mind only perhaps) distressed at being with all these people in such close quarters. Instead, he looked at me with level eyes that sort of said, "I don't have time for you. I'm tired of people like you, women. I don't even care enough about you to make me sick."
So as I was walking to my car I was lamenting that I've never had a gay man as my friend like so many women seem to. I have always CRAVED that sort of closeness with a man who I knew would never want me sexually. Gay men always seem to hate me, as do most women.
I was pondering this as I drove down the Mission Hills and merged onto the 5. Immediately I was blocked from merging because a BMW - 7 series was blocking my way, going about 45 mph I might add. The car made me think of a story that Alex, my boss told me last week about his neighbor, who he said drives him nuts and drives a BMW - 7 series - and when he said the 7 series part he rolled his eyes back and sort of let his jaw go slack so I knew he meant the guy was a pompous ass. Alex said that the man is very anal, that he measures the height of his lawn with a ruler, that his kids - in high school - are forced to dress alike. He said the lights in their house go out in eerie synchronization at very specific times, 9:00 for the kids, 9:45 for he and his wife. I commented what his relationship must be like between him and his wife if they only get 45 minutes together a night.
Alex ignored me and went on with the rest of his story while I smiled politely, but I was really thinking how sad a life like that must be. What power that man must have over his family if they allow such rules - and with teenagers too! The wife must drink, or take pills, or perhaps she is a devout Christian. Then I thought Alex might be projecting. He is a bit anal too so I was unsure what exactly about his neighbor might be irritating him because he won't even let us pop popcorn in the office because he hates the smell.
So as I struggled to merge onto the highway, past the BMW, I was thinking about the Alex's neighbors. Why do so many people drive silver BMWs? I decided that they were the sharks of the road, and that people who drove them must be similar in character to sharks, too. Sort of driven, always going, never slowing down, ruthless, soulless. I thought it was fitting that Crush drove one too. I thought police cars are the killer whales of the road. Black and white, usually peaceable, capable to murder. I wondered what my red Jetta said about me.
finally! A chance to merge, and I did. As I passed the BMW, I looked to see what the person looked like who was driving. Where they foreign, old, what could account for such poor driving manners? As I passed, all I could see was a slender arm attached to a skinny watch on the dainty wrist holding the wheel with a tiny hand, backlit by the orange lights of the dashboard. I wondered if it was Alex's neighbor's wife.

Cali & Tex by collin english

Collin: … And night blooming jasmine! I love the Mediterranean. I
may be what i like most about California -- that it reminds me of the
Mediterranean.


Trish: Me too. It's like the Med married a cowboy. Love it!
I always thought of California as Texas' girlfriend. Strange?

C: California as Texas' girlfriend. That's so funny. And cute. Why does
that seem like something you would think?

T: I'm a hopeless romantic.

C: Yes, but with a grand view. Talk about an interstate love affair: California, the hottie with the cool ocean breaze in her hair, toes in
the sand, pacific across her feet. Texas, the, uhhh, ass in dusty
boots and a huge hat being all: "Howdy ma'am" and stuff. i can see it
now.

T: You totally understand me.

C: He looks at her and says: "You're as clear as a sweet spring day, Miss
Cali." He tips his hat and smiles.
"Aww, Tex," she blushes,"...you're so sweet... hey, you're stepping on
my towel."

T: Towel..? What? Because of the ocean?

C: Cali tugged at the towel under the toe of Tex's dirt burnished boot.
The waves washed across her feet and onto the towel. "Why am I on a
towel so close to the ocean?" Cali asked the narrator. The narrator
paused thoughtfully and replied: "Good question."

T: what is your obsession with this towel?

C: then as suddenly and as mysteriously as it appeared the towel
vanishes. Neither Cali nor Tex noticed because at this moment their
eyes were locked in a moment of such portent and anticipation that
Cali had to look away. The waves shwooshed across the sands.

"It's been so long Tex."

"Two years, Cali. That's a spell. And don't you look as sweet as ever."

"Why do you have to go up there this afternoon? You just got here?
Stay. We'll have lunch. Have some drinks. You know: get reaquinted..."

"I'd love to baby, but I gotta get this business out of the way first.
You look so good honey. I feel like I'm seeing the ocean for the first
time...Why didn't I take you back to Texas with me?

"You tried...remember...? You did try." She laughs and glances at him,
his eyes glitter with the light off the ocean.

"Will I see you at the Hurley's little soire tonight?" She asked.
Looking out to sea again and feeling his eyes on her neck and
shoulders, "or are you going to be too tied up with your business up
in Bakersfield to get back tonight...?"

"I'll be there, baby. I didn't come all this way just to miss a
magical evening with my best girl". His smile is warm and broad.

snapshot of that damn hippie

i am torn between loving her for her lust for life and hating her for her inability to be loyal to anyone but herself or fun, or the moment. people like her, her spit at life and get rewarded for it make me physically ill. their hapiness astounds me. touring about the world, smoking pot, pullin' up stakes as soon as the wind shifts... what sort of life is that? and friends? who has friends with a life like that? that's what i mean about the lack of loyalty.

not enough

a man stopped me in the parking lot today and asked for my phone number. I was flattered. he called tonight and made small talk. within two minutes he told me that he liked my figure; that it caught his eye. my heart sank. i told him i wasn't comfortable with that sort of conversation. he said perhaps i would feel more comfortable talking over lunch. i said i would. we said goodbye.

sometimes I get sentimental ...

Mom, baby Nicky, me. Isn't my mom beautiful?

snapshot of judith

english isn't her first language, yet she's an english major. not that i feel her first language should impact her ability to interpret literature or write in english, but it does. tonight she ranted on and on about the fact that our teacher refered to Virginia Woolf's essay, "A Room of Ones Own" as a feminist manifesto. in her (unswayable) opinion, that is an insult. she feels as if Woolf's words do not speak for all women. when i tried to point out that they may have been profound at the time they were written, she retorted that there must have been other, better fiminist manifesto writers at that time. ...
she constantly asks for explanations of seemingly simple things like the meaning of sentimental.
she is passive agressive.
she wears her bangs cut straight across her forhead
she constantly reminds us that she is 30
she tries to bring christianity into every facet of conversation, literary or otherwise

the walls aren't exactly falling down

I feel at war with almost everyone i know right now.
my parents: don't love me enough, therefore i must cut them out of my life. that will show them.
my boss isn't standing up for me at work and my work is suffering because of it. i vow to be extremely professional in our interactions so that she can't see how much her actions wound me. that will show her.
i kept a place reserved in my heart for a man, in case he decided to love me one day. he loves someone else now. i moved him off my myspace top 8, that will show him.
i'm building up the walls around me. not that there weren't walls to begin with, now there are just more of them, higher ones, with larger stones.
if you don't value me, if you can't make me feel valued, i will suffocate in my walls and die.