STL haps
two days ago an old woman took my ring finger in her hand and looked at the beady jeweled eyes of the pig that sat upon it. She told me a Quebecois fairy tale that I immediately mistook with the three little pigs but actually only involved one. This pig, to the best of my French ability, collected something or ate something or did something magical. (or ate something magical?).
yesterday an old woman took the wood plate necklace from my chest and started fiddling with the beads. She, to the best of my French ability, was an artesian jeweler who worked with wood and showed me something she had made which looked like plastic. We discussed collecting something magical in frippe-prix for quatre-vinght-dix-neuf soux, while her long, yellow fingernails remained attached to my neck.
Today a small Spanish child and I danced to Riders on the Storm as it was being blasted through my store windows. He had some pretty good moves for a two-year old and boogied with me through the entire seven minutes and sixteen seconds of Jim Morrison wailing in the rain. His mother, who spoke neither English nor French, smiled and nodded, whipping out her digi to blog us like crazy. I hope it ends up on the internet somewhere in Mexico and that The Doors have an acute affect on his cognitive development.
Also today: single dads were flirting like crazy.
...It has been an interesting couple of days...
Most recently, St. Laurent has been home home home in the heart of the city. I straddle the line between language and geography, flirt with boy neighbors for free everything, bang-ON boss-style and clocked in a cool sixty-four hour workweek. I can hardly believe that one year has passed since I saw the Dov strolling down the street with AA beauties humming all around him. How things have changed. Still here.
----
in other news, I am coming there. I am blowing this weeks work on preloved and a plane ticket. I have been doing a daily blog cleanse to psych myself up. Familiar faces, bad tattoos, awkward family photos, and, most importantly, why the fuck do you have a kid? I have been doing a daily jog and dreaming of karaoke at Lo Pub. I have been doing a terrible job of telling people that I want to party with them, but I will find a way. Can't wait, Winnipeg.
----
bizzies (the english bisoux), Loco.
yesterday an old woman took the wood plate necklace from my chest and started fiddling with the beads. She, to the best of my French ability, was an artesian jeweler who worked with wood and showed me something she had made which looked like plastic. We discussed collecting something magical in frippe-prix for quatre-vinght-dix-neuf soux, while her long, yellow fingernails remained attached to my neck.
Today a small Spanish child and I danced to Riders on the Storm as it was being blasted through my store windows. He had some pretty good moves for a two-year old and boogied with me through the entire seven minutes and sixteen seconds of Jim Morrison wailing in the rain. His mother, who spoke neither English nor French, smiled and nodded, whipping out her digi to blog us like crazy. I hope it ends up on the internet somewhere in Mexico and that The Doors have an acute affect on his cognitive development.
Also today: single dads were flirting like crazy.
...It has been an interesting couple of days...
Most recently, St. Laurent has been home home home in the heart of the city. I straddle the line between language and geography, flirt with boy neighbors for free everything, bang-ON boss-style and clocked in a cool sixty-four hour workweek. I can hardly believe that one year has passed since I saw the Dov strolling down the street with AA beauties humming all around him. How things have changed. Still here.
----
in other news, I am coming there. I am blowing this weeks work on preloved and a plane ticket. I have been doing a daily blog cleanse to psych myself up. Familiar faces, bad tattoos, awkward family photos, and, most importantly, why the fuck do you have a kid? I have been doing a daily jog and dreaming of karaoke at Lo Pub. I have been doing a terrible job of telling people that I want to party with them, but I will find a way. Can't wait, Winnipeg.
----
bizzies (the english bisoux), Loco.
posted by Loco at
12:46 AM
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