Sunday, January 21, 2007

so much for my coma poems

Last night Matt e-mailed some of us to talk shit about his recent dream featuring me. I liked this e-mail, mostly because I like hearing from the Matt, but also because, as he wrote:

[S]tina came outof a shop in a black wool cape and an un-[S]tina hair style...

I've never stopped to consider myself in a black wool cape before, but then I couldn't stop thinking about it. I mean, I'm not the type of girl to buy a cape. Capes are to me like skinny jeans and those little cardigans with faux brooches pinned to them or peep-toes shoes and big soft leather handbags with complicated yet classy buckles; they are something to admire in magazines or from afar. If I ever got my hands on any of those things, I would somehow end up destroying them after I missed my mouth with a liter bottle of diet Pepsi and smacked my nose instead, thus releasing torrents of blood and diet soda, or try to match them with the only other things in my wardrobe: old t-shirts and ill-fitting pants.

This cape thing, though, had sort of gripped me. I spent some time at Grizzle's thinking about capes, and thus aftering coming home from work I Google'd "black wool cape." Just to see what it is I could be if I owned a cape. And then I entertained a brief three-minute fantasy in which I wake from a coma to find that the flesh-eating bacteria that orginally put me in a coma have been entirely cleared from my system, but not before eating away every ounce of fat on my body, and over the two years of coma my hair grew out, but the bacteria altered my head chemistry so that suddenly my hair was style-able, and though I mourned the two years of life spent comatose I decided to embrace my new self and wear capes and jeans.

I chased this fantasy a little further; I started thinking about the poems I'd be able to write about my coma, and the resulting thematic chapbook that would win contests and lead to my first publication contract. Then reality smacked me again, and reminded me that should I ever end up wearing a cape, I'd look like an idiot. As is so often the case.

2 comments:

  1. But... you already have a cape. The Responsibility Woman beacon appears to be working subconsciously now.

    Does Matt need some responsibility in his life? I think you need to discuss this with him.

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  2. Think of yourself with a wedge-type haircut with bangs hanging low over half your face and wearing an 80s era, Laura Ashley-style black wool cape (complete with a large, brass safety pin), tartan pleated skirt (a la Catholic school girl), black stockings and black shiny shoes and you will have an idea of how you looked in my dream. I remember it vividly as it was so unlike anything you've ever worn before.

    Perhaps I will draw a picture later.

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