Physical gifts are strange things. The rabbit around my neck actually calms me some.
But – beyond “I was thinking of you”, unless they are useful, I often think they just become reminders of things that were. By definition – souvenirs – and I’m becoming less and less able to think of the past without being bitter about my choices.
I do like the gift of experiences. Taking people places – the cruise was such a gift to me, but in this sort of thing, I’m far better at giving than receiving.sitting and watching cause I’m creepy…
Going through rehearsals for an on-the-boat talent show. I’ll be playing LooseN cause I want to. Scott’s playing the David Lee Roth version of “Ice Cream Man”. I’m amused. We have fun stage options, and now we ALL want to come through the stage elevator thing with the smoke machines going. However, during the rehearsal, when one girl mentions that she wants to dance and that she’s a cheerleader, there’s an unfortunate failure of the language:
“So you’ll be shaking your tampons all over the place?”
Took a little bit of sorting out. In any case, I’m sitting in one of the bars watching Shelly O’Brien play thinking how very beautiful she is. As always, I’m too shy to be too close, but damn she’s exquisite in a black dress, lit soft by candle light reflected off the baby grand piano she’s playing. Diamond earings and diamond hems – but of course, on a cruise ship, looking dazzling in a tight black dress is probably part of how you get hired for the job.
The showers on the boat are extreme, and extremely hot. Incredible water pressure, and then I step out on the deck and let the ocean wind (breeze is too gentle a term) dry my hair. I come inside and almost feel worthy of being in this goddesses company.
I wonder what it’s like to be that beautiful – to watch people’s eyes follow you, knowing that they are hungry. It’s funny, I can’t imagine marring such a creature physically – leaving fingerprints or bruises – watching Shelly (or the previous Brazilians) is an excercise in trying not to stare. It’s not even sexual, you just want to drink them in.
It’s like the ocean, or like a canyon, where the detail is unending, and you can fall into it endlessly.
The sun sets behind her hair and her halo makes it hard to see – in a world where Halo is a shooting game to me now… that’s a shame. What ese is a shame? That the more I listen to her the more I’m impressed by her appearance than I am by the light jazz of her performance.
Back to lower, more longing chords. She plays things for heartbreak and for longing for home. Not too far from the thoughts I’m thinking. I have beauty of my own to faith back on the East Coast – and I don’t know what awaits me there.
Could I ever be kept by someone so beautiful? They wouldn’t be human – it would be like being with Aleksandra again – though I was never anything more than a toy for her. I wonder how jaded those perfect ones must feel towards the beauty of others and their expectations of what they deserve out of the world. There’s no question that the world’s a little easier in some ways for the Beautiful People. Heh. I can ask Holly.
God, I would KILL for a ginger-ale.
And yet miss Shelly O’Brien could never haunt me the way that woman from Cuyutlan did.
