Lately I feel frenizied. In heat. I want to run. I want to soar. I want to fly.
I want to paint my eyes with bright circles of black, my lips a tempting crimson, wear my tightest jeans, my favorite tank top, grab my friends, and swill down massive amounts of alcohol. Drive somewhere where the people are sweaty and happy, the music is loud and the lights are low. Let the beat match that of my heart, which is inconsistent and confused anyway, and just LET GO. For get the bullshit. Let the guitar riffs rip through me, the licks and twangs seduce me, rumble through my thighs, gyrate through my hips, shiver up my spine, and toss themselves through my hair. Blast Chili Peppers, give me tequila, and put me on a bar, give me a pole, a stage. Wind me up, watch me twirl, undulate and go. Join me in my primitive belly dancing, my erotic steps of freedom and being woman...
Instead, I do not do these things. I restrain my breasts in sports bras. I run out my excess energy on the treadmill. I hide my sexuality in loose skirts and t shirts with clever sayings on them- for example "We are are going to hell". I do not apply red lipstick. I straighten the wanton curls from my hair. I do not go wild. I replace the tequila with a strong merlot- 2001, Napa Valley- I am only allowed 1 glass. I remove the natural swerve from my walk. I watch CSI: Las Vegas. I volunteer my free time.
But though I sit alone- in my librarian clothes and reading glasses- the unnatural stillness only allows for a better environment to listen.
I still hear her. That wild woman. She of the red lips, the tight pants, the lion's mane, the tequila and the gyrating hips. She of the loud opinions, and the dreams..oh the dreams she had!
Do you know what she whispers? Do you really want to know?
She says:
"Live."
I want to paint my eyes with bright circles of black, my lips a tempting crimson, wear my tightest jeans, my favorite tank top, grab my friends, and swill down massive amounts of alcohol. Drive somewhere where the people are sweaty and happy, the music is loud and the lights are low. Let the beat match that of my heart, which is inconsistent and confused anyway, and just LET GO. For get the bullshit. Let the guitar riffs rip through me, the licks and twangs seduce me, rumble through my thighs, gyrate through my hips, shiver up my spine, and toss themselves through my hair. Blast Chili Peppers, give me tequila, and put me on a bar, give me a pole, a stage. Wind me up, watch me twirl, undulate and go. Join me in my primitive belly dancing, my erotic steps of freedom and being woman...
Instead, I do not do these things. I restrain my breasts in sports bras. I run out my excess energy on the treadmill. I hide my sexuality in loose skirts and t shirts with clever sayings on them- for example "We are are going to hell". I do not apply red lipstick. I straighten the wanton curls from my hair. I do not go wild. I replace the tequila with a strong merlot- 2001, Napa Valley- I am only allowed 1 glass. I remove the natural swerve from my walk. I watch CSI: Las Vegas. I volunteer my free time.
But though I sit alone- in my librarian clothes and reading glasses- the unnatural stillness only allows for a better environment to listen.
I still hear her. That wild woman. She of the red lips, the tight pants, the lion's mane, the tequila and the gyrating hips. She of the loud opinions, and the dreams..oh the dreams she had!
Do you know what she whispers? Do you really want to know?
She says:
"Live."
VIEW 5 of 5 COMMENTS
knives2meatyou:
You haven't updated for 5 montns now (last entry on 9/11 no less) so I'm hoping you haven't left the site. I say that because I really liked your 9/11 entry and I also found myself agreeing with a lot of the favorites you listed in your profile. So if you're still around send me a message or update or something, please! It's very nice to meet you, if in fact we've now met (you sort of need 2 people in order for them to meet one another, you know).
silencia:
You're back! I've missed you!!!!