Wednesday, June 29, 2011

She's not in fashion

Maybe, maybe it's the clothes we wear
The tasteless bracelets and the dye in our hair























My friend Chloe is the greatest thinker I know, she produces memorable quotes to an extent ordinary people could only dream of doing over a lifetime.

Tuesday night she visits me, we're sitting on the roof of our house as the reddish sun sets over Silver Lake. She has to work in the morning but I convince her to stay a little longer, just so we can pretend like time doesn't pass.

When Marilyn Monroe died, she says, Lee Strasberg inherited her entire wardrobe. It must be like owning a fashion museum.

Wouldn't you want to wear them?, I ask.

She doesn't answer, instead she's quite for a minute before she says ...and they claim nothing ever changes for the worse. Imagine being Lee Strasberg today, Lindsay Lohan dies and leaves you all her clothes. Wouldn't that be just like a big fat slap in the face?

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

New York stories

They talked for hours, she listened to what he said and looked him deep in the eyes when he spoke, as if she was trying to see what he was really like under the surface. They soon left the crowded sweaty room and walked together through the late New York night. She seemed to know the city like the back of her hand and showed him places he would never had seen without her.

Maybe, he thought as they walked, this is when everything starts over again. Maybe this is when everything finally falls into place.

He had always been a cynic, but one that thought it was somehow the easy way out. Somewhere beyond the liars, fakes and frauds there just has to be something real and true. There has to be someone who is honest and worth loving the way he wanted to love.

That's what he hoped for as he held her little hand in his and listened to her breathing in the summer air. He let his guard down for the first time, so it never occurred to him that when something seems a little too good to be true, it almost always is.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

A memory gone missing

I hate being reminded of why I resent my mother. It's just so much easier to live in the illusion that everything is fine, and it takes weeks of pretending to forget it all over again.

This morning I woke up with the memory of a dress I loved but hadn't seen for a long time. I think I dreamt about it but I couldn't remember when I last wore it or where it might be now. I went through my closet, then mother's, then back to mine, but nothing. Mother has a way of being curious and asked me what I was looking for, so I told her.

Oh, that old rag, she said. I threw it away. I guess she saw that I got upset and said but darling, it was all worn out, and it wasn't even a nice brand.

I wanted to tell her that I didn't care about the brand, that it didn't matter if it was worn or torn or even unwearable. I loved it because of what it represented, for all the memories it carried, for who I used to wear it with.

I wanted to scream to her that a person like that must have no soul, but I was afraid she'd take it as a compliment.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

We'll go where people go and let go

Whatever makes her happy
Whatever makes it alright


Saturday night, S and I are back in that same house where she had met a boy the week before. She had called me earlier in the day begging me to go out with her, saying she wanted to see him again but wouldn't go alone.

As we're dancing and drinking she's constantly looking over her shoulder, trying to find him in the crowd. After an hour he shows up, gives her a kiss on the cheek and a pink rose with a black ribbon. We leave shortly after and end up on a playground under the stars. He starts undressing her and she lets him, never taking her eyes off me as if she's silently asking for my approval. As I kiss her on the neck I whisper in her ear is this really what you want?, and she doesn't even blink.

Her touch is so soft, but it's her determination that makes me shiver. I've never seen her like this, the pale moonlight makes her glow like an angel.

Saturday, June 11, 2011

A defining moment

What a moronic question, he thought to himself. Who doesn't like Mick Jagger? But then again, this is America, maybe he's not as popular here as he is in Europe.

The woman's voice in his ear was like a sudden gust, putting him completely off balance for a split second. Not because it was sweet or special in itself, but because the words it carried talked to him like nothing before. He had never believed in fate or the predestined, but this just had to be something out of the ordinary.

He turned around slowly, savoring the moment, somehow knowing it could define the rest of his life. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was the music or the liberating atmosphere in the crowded room, but he imagined he had never seen anything quite so beautiful.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

California dreams

Last night, mother announced that she has hired someone to "help out around the house", as she put it herself. He turned out to be a 200 pound Mexican package of muscles in his early thirties called Hernan. Mom presented him to me as I was having breakfast in bed. He smiled at me with his perfectly white Hollywood teeth, his bare tattooed over arms glistened in the late morning sun.

I'm guessing this is not the first overly rich but lonely woman he's ever been hired to "work" for. After lunch he drove away in his brand new Porsche Cayenne, and the only one that had eaten anything by then was me. Mom came out of the bedroom a few minutes later, her hair puffed up, the purple Lanvin silk chemise put on inside-out.

Sunday, June 5, 2011

What about us?

I've always known that God is just an excuse for all the evils in the world, my father taught me that. He told me that whenever something bad happens, something we didn't plan for or wanted, we can always blame it on fate saying "the lord works in mysterious ways".

Being certain of that is a mixed blessing. It means you can be in control of your own destiny, but also that there is no afterlife. And then what?

Yesterday S joined us as we were going out. Just looking at her I could see she's beginning to have the same insight, but without the darker side. She only wants to enjoy life and not be afraid of how she will be judged or rejected in heaven. She looked amazing on the dance floor, as if she had done it her whole life; flirting with the boys, moving like an angel in a twirling skirt. I hope she never starts thinking about what happens when we're all gone.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

Not a mean spirit, not a kind soul

I'm terrible at being mean to people, and I seriously consider that a weakness. I can be cold and distant but never openly unkind. On the other hand I'm equally bad at showing people my honest affection, no matter how much they deserve it. I sometimes come off as arrogant when I'm really just a little apathetic.

Mom came home late last night, I was still up when she staggered in around 1, crying and smelling of alcohol. Amidst the frantic sobbing I picked up a word or two and read between the lines to understand the context. Someone had called her "old" over drinks, a remark that's more than a slap in the face when it comes to my poor mother.

I really wanted to say something comforting, just because I had the upper hand, but I could only think of one thing as I buried my head in her white Givenchy overcoat and gave her a technical hug: this cashmere is so incredibly soft.

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