Rinsev. 1. To cleanse by flushing with liquid
(as water): Shrubs, low houses, seventeen year olds; the kitchen window is just
taller than my head if I stand in June evenings crossed through with shadows, rinsing dishes, ham grease crusted on.
2. n. murky: You, your bike, passing
in therinsed light: pass twice, turn, pass again and then with one finger you’re raising goosebumps on my neck
under my hair, 3. to remove (dirt or impurities) by washing lightly: rinsing me with kisses: kissing: it’s
like standing in a direct spot of sun, or me a white shirt after bleach, back
to clean-so-clean and flapping on the wash line over the hedge(s)n. 1. a fence or
boundary formed by a dense row of shrubs or low trees; barrier, limit: all the
neighbors use to keep their dogs fenced in; you kiss me like a mower, you
flatten shrubs and open gates then 2. encircle: you reach forward and you’re hedging me; I turn and I’m hedging you 3. a means of protection or
defense: we’re a small neighborhood in revolt, we’re sharp with thorns, 4. A
calculatedly noncommittal or evasive statement: and we’re in your car with the
ripped seats and I’m asking where to? And you start hedging, did I like the book about, you say, when you know I mean
which state, let’s drive, I say baby let’s drive I say I feel shut in, I’m
thinking how I’ve never seen a desert but then we’re necking and it takes me
weeks to learn 5. to protect oneself from losing by a counter-balancing
transaction: I’m here in case your girl-friend leaves; she doesn’t, and I’m
laundry left in the rain long before I’ve learned tohedge,
yes it’s long nights on the telephone talking like a see-saw againadv. 1. in return: back: and I woke up this morning and wanted you
to turn again to me, because my
dreams smelled like your soap 2. another time: once more: anew: though there
is, (and I know), no way to begin again
even if you turned. 3. on the other hand: And then again I know better than to have what I’ve already captured, and 4.
in addition: besides: again I know
your lower half, your heart-tooth’s rotten root, so yes knowing better, I think
of you spo rad i cal lyadv. occurring occasionally, singly, or
in scattered instances; fitful: (yes, I think of you) and I’m fury without
generation, watering my houseplants over the sill leaving splashes, pools as
when, after infrequent arguments, my body found its way across asphalt to the
park’s near entrance where rain met still water in starts and fits, and hands
handled touch-me-nots, made to open—sometimes—when touched roughly or softly,
springs and seeds bursting in all directions, parts to all of the plant
exploding under my grasp into green fireworks of shock, scattering bugs in rinsed light, leaving you never knowing
just which parts of me were freed, or how, or to where.
Before there was NYC #roomieweekend (pictures to come), there was Miami #springbreak:
Basically last weekend consisted of toasting in the sun all day and partying in beach bars all night. A lovely person very generously took me to Miami for a little weekend getaway with friends, and we had a wonderful little time together. As the only non-drinker of the bunch, I'm pretty sure my designated driver blood became 90% caffeine for the weekend, and I have since developed a really attractive eyelid twitch (look closely). I also returned a little, um, burnt, and can now be tracked by the trail of peeled skin I leave behind me. It's sexy.
Though the years I lived in Miami now feel like just a brief, blisful moment, the few times I've been back since then have always felt like going home to me. To my twelve year old self, Miami felt like a different world, a world where it was normal to see a peacock strutting across the street and parrots flying overhead, where salsa and meringue music played in the grocery store, and where footballs kicked through high school field goal posts had to be collected from the ocean after the game. This time around, I went back to see my old house (the middle row of pics above) in Coral Gables, and even creeped around the back of the property to take a sneaky pic through the hedges. Happy memories in that casa. Happy memories in that city.
Calvin Harris' "Feel So Close" and Jake Owen's "Alone With You" aren't exactly complementary, thematically or aurally...yet here they are in all their glory, two songs that have been filling my ears lately. Everyone can relate to at least one of them, right? The first is the closest I get to techno (i.e. not very), the second is pretty standard country fare. I know I'm from L.A., but country is probably the genre I love and listen to the most. I blame my myriad of nannies from bizarre places like Utah or Idaho or Colorado. I was brainwashed, I tell you! Brainwashed!
Hey hi. Have kind of neglected this masterpiece recently. Busy makin' moves, you know?
Some lessons learned, lately:
1. Clear your search history if you've recently searched for "adult stores DC" to avoid red-faced, "It was for a bridal shower, I swear! No, really. Really!!" explanations when a guy borrows your phone at church. Yep. Just as embarrassing as it sounds.
2. Things don't always heal. Sometimes they just scab. And then the scab gets scratched off, and you bleed, and then scab again, over and over and over again. And you go through a lot of bandaids. And you get used to the loss of blood.
3. Only go running in your neighorhood right after work if you are comfortable being seen in sweat and spandex by basically everyone you know. It's me at my best, people, so aim to be walking home from work between 5:30 and 6 for a literal hot mess sighting.
4. It is entirely possible (and right) to subsist on only Girl Scout cookies for over 24 hours. Samoas and Tagalongs, specifically. It is also possible to go through an entire sleeve of Thin Mints in the time it takes you to walk from the metro, where you purchased the cookies, to your house, two blocks away.
5. Being in bed for 17 hours straight on a rare free night will simultaneously make you feel like a princess and a schlub, and will result in a back ache and a NyQuil hangover. But nights off are good. Dating is tiring. How do you all do this all the time?? I don't get it.
6. Boys who like Star Wars as much as I do are wonderful. Gets me every. single. time.
7. Dubstep is not, in fact, a dance move. I only recently (two days ago) became cool enough to know this.
8. No matter how much mental energy you direct towards the roots of your hair, you will remain bald. Growwww. Grooowwwww!!
9. If you wear it often enough, the roomies eventually will stop noticing the omnipresent tiara on your head, as will you.
Slowly but surely making my way back into the kitchen...this time with heart-shaped lemon ricotta pancakes. I don't really like pancakes or lemon-flavored things, but I do like heart-shaped food, bowls, and baking utensils. And I was cooking for someone other than myself, AND it was February, so...it all made sense at the time. It was a lovely dinner and evening, but guys...it felt so forced... I only cook for the ones I love, you know? (You know. You've seen.) I guess I don't yet love cooking just for the joy of cooking. Won't be trying that again anytime soon. Regardless, the pancakies were delish, and now that they are tucked away in my teeny tiny cooking repertoire, they will be replicated this weekend for Shannon, a lady I do love, in celebration of her recent engagement!! Aaaaah!
n.b. I should clarify that baking with someone is not the same as cooking for someone. K?