Grapefruit Body Wash

Was only going to be in Boston for two days, so I used the grapefruit body wash in Bex shower, assuming two squirts would not be missed. I rarely eat grapefruit because it's so obnoxious, but if it's on a brunch menu? Some brown sugar-crusted magic? Sigh, sigh, I have the luck of remembering the first time I ever ate grapefruit. I was 3 or 4 and up tootling around the house as my childhood insomnia had me to do. First stop was usually my grandmother's recliner. Sometimes I could shake her awake and ask for a story. One this night, I'd like to think it was summer, but who knows, she grogged awake and asked if I'd like to try grapefruit. I did because what is that. She took me to the kitchen and explained the two halves, the special spoon, the tartness. I slurped it up. From then on every time I visited her I asked for some, but it was never in the kitchen again.

I liked the body wash so much the day I got lost walking through the city (making a 2 mile journey into 5) I stopped in a CVS to alleviate some of my back sweat and bought some. It's what I have been using here in Maine. A happy, fresh way to start my day. The new cast member Dollar arrived Sunday. I started noticing something in the tub--sometimes my pink bottle was suddenly open. I had left it closed. But then I started noticing sometimes I would walk into the bathroom to find the cap open, then closed, but I hadn't showered. Last night while brushing my teeth I asked both the guys to come into the hall. I asked, "Who has been using my grapefruit body wash?" Dollar admitted it. He seemed embarrassed (?) to be caught in a way that made me wonder if I should have said anything at all. "I don't care!" I said. I just wanted to know. Then, Tulsa: "Wait, what does it look like? Pink? Yeah, I've been using it too." It was like the time Hill and I were hanging out at our guys' house and we realized on the way to lunch we were all wearing the same deodorant. It made me feel gushy, honestly, that my castmates and I all pump the beady syrup into our palms once a day. I shouldn't have said anything, I thought. This doesn't matter. "You can use as much of my body wash as you want!" I exclaimed between spitting my toothpaste out. Dollar walked into the bathroom, picked up the soap, said, "excuse me for a moment," and opened it over the toilet. "No!" I whisper-yelled at 2 in the morning. He put it back. This morning I got the third shower. The pink line was lower.

Best Side

Muffy sees my best side. Even when I text her about my insecurities or rage, she sees only what I want to be. My glowing potential.

We were roommates in our second to last quarter of college. She called our room the tower because it was located at the corner of the top floor, with a peaked ceiling. It was a snowy winter, and we felt like ice princesses well before Frozen was a thing.

The school yearbook asked everyone to come by a booth at dinner for a few weeks to make sure everyone had a pic. And then they sent guerrilla photographer to nab photos of people who couldn't be bothered (me). It was nighttime. Maybe 8 PM when we heard a knock on our door. The girl said she was going to take a picture no matter what, so did I at least want to pose. I said I wanted a picture with Muffy. First we took a picture looking at each other and laughing. But I asked if we could switch sides of the bed because I was turning in and covering my good side. She said, "No, because this is my good side." She thought. "Let's both show our good sides," she concluded. We rearranged so I was facing the wall in profile and she was facing my back. She decided she would braid my hair, so it wasn't too weird. That ship had sailed for the yearbook girl, I'm sure. So, yeah, my senior picture yearbook photo is Muffy braiding my hair and both of us looking very smart about it.

Sugar Cookie Pop-Tart

Sugar Cookie Pop-Tarts do, in fact, taste like sugar cookies. Beside the more cracker-like Tart texture vs. the chewiness of a traditional cookie, they are the same. The frosting is lackluster and plain, decorated with stupid pictures like a skiing snowman. The inside, especially when heated, is delightful. Borderline majestic. That right-out-of-the-oven-at-Christmas game, mang.

I ate two of the box of 16. On an afternoon in December. Ro ate 13, as they were good "just woke up from a nap" snacks. And in January she took a lot of naps. She left one solitary Tart in the box, stale and lonely. A gesture of "See? I didn't eat all your food."

Taste is A. But I will not be buying these again. They're just too darn close to full-blown dessert, you might as well just go for legit cookies if that's what you're in the mood for.

Red Envelopes

So many young men have crumpled

backs from the wind,

clomping through Harvard Square holding

paper-wrapped bouquets.

Bisque points to a guy middle-age

outside the taco shop

penning a card.

"Last minute," he says

because his letter to me (the one with the s'more on it--

'I love you s'more every day')

is in his backpack

sealed, ready

for our date.

On Wednesday he left a vase of roses and

Reese's Cups on my kitchen table.

A tiny potted ivy for Ro. A pink flower for Rora.

Over high-end hazelnut cocoa

we hold hands.

We haven't been all day because there are children

to lasso. But they're all off

in the slushy streets. Doing

their own

stuff.

So we hold hands and we exchange red envelopes

(mine for him, two peanuts hugging)

with messages that sound

the same.

Every day is a better day.

The ultimate Valentine.

Philosophies Of Roommates

RO: It's obvious what Alice should do.
RORA: Oh, of course.
RO: Because you only have one life!
RORA: Right!
RO: She's got one life. She's got to take a chance!
RORA: Are you kidding?! She's got one life, she can't screw it up!

Drive to AZ. Summer 2011.

Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor.

The Problem with America

SHELLS: Alice and her boyfriend etc. etc.
SHELLS' ROOMMATE: Wait, I always thought Alice was a lesbian.
SHELLS: What? Why?
SHELLS' OTHER ROOMMATE: You know. She's all about women's rights and vegetarianism.
SHELLS: So she's gay because she's a...strong person?

Shells Birthday last April.

Opening Night of True

Nervous. Excited.

Shells texts me emoji ghosts. The roommates yelp down the hall, "Tonight!" My sister presents me with a book of bat pictures. My aunt e-mails Xs and Os. Everyone's on my side.

True and Faith. Dress rehearsal.

Long black night, morning frost.
I'm still here, but all is lost.
Feel the storm every night, hope it passes by.
Hallucinate a shady grove where Judas went to die.

Roommate Things

My roommates are perfect. They are friendly, considerate, clean, and we're all pretty quiet. We keep different schedules, and I sometimes don't see one of the other for a few days at a time. Zeta, generally a bit shy, recently told me I should get a leather jacket to look tough on my scooter. Beta watches a lot of Teen Mom. I find them both very attractive looking humans, and they don't even have to try. Their whole family is this way. When I come home and the sisters and parents are all in the kitchen sorting leftovers from some family event, I feel like Charlize Theron in Monster. RAWWWWR I HIDE IN MY ROOM AND WRITE PLAYS YOU GUYS COULD ALL BE MODELS RAWWR GONNA GO MEET CHRISTINA RICCI AT THE ROLLER RINK.

Here's some proof from Zeta's birthday last year:

Pretty Roomies. 2011.

So, I like 'em, but we're not friend-friends. We're profesh. SO, Beta texts me sometimes, but not like "Haha joke joke joke" texts. Like, "the hot water will be shut off tomorrow at 10" texts. Hence, when I got a text from her yesterday that said "Hey I accidentally opened your book package! I didn't read the label and thought it was mine!" I was kind of surprised she even bothered. Not a big deal obviously. I texted back "OMG MY PRIVACY! Just kidding, it's fine."She: "Haha ok good lol." Odd. ESPECIALLY when I got home and the package was only halfway opened. No big!

And then I saw what Beta would have seen.

Just the title of the textbook peeking through the package.

In huge black all caps,"GAY SHAME."

Uh oh. It was for a class! I was taking an English class on Queer Theory (that I actually ended up dropping but already had bought some books)! I laughed and called out to Beta in the living room, "OH! Haha this is for a class! You were probably like 'what?'! Haha! But! It! Well, it was a class at least, I'm not in it anymore...but ha...ha..." I trail off and Beta does a really giant I'm-Letting-You-Know-I'm-Comfortable smile. This is what I call some STRAIGHT SHAME.

Come out of the Cave

Running around the desert--cool breeze--swift steps uphill to "King of the World"--
a song I loved as a 17-year old Lucy in AZ.
Early morning crackers spread with Trader Joe's peanut butter and strawberries.
Mountains and hedgehog cacti.
Two roadrunners, quail, a jackrabbit on Easter morning.
My aunt, Maf, and I, aproned, bake a vegan shepherd's pie.
We drink pomegranate juice out of champagne glasses, and I clean my pastel bowl of carrot soup with a potato roll.
I love these people, and I believe in the power of family because here is my father's sister who lives in the North Woods and her best friend from childhood and the boy from down the block and me, and they're singing me an early happy birthday over a chocolate cake made with no animal products, sided with Soy Dream ice cream.
I head home with a saddlebag of leftovers.
It's a forty minute drive that seems much too short for the vacation I'm returning from, for the finals prep I am returning to.
I curl up on the couch and watch Don and Peggy and Joanie while my roommates study and their significant others bake Lent-Is-Over-Cookies and paint a sailboat on an ocean.
I was in a saltwater hot tub this afternoon.
The show ends, and I head to my bedroom.
I pull out this infernal writing machine. I unpack a little.
The smell of my damp swimsuit in a grocery bag.
It reminds me of being called Lucy
when that was my only name.
And I think we could all use a resurrection sometimes.



Happy Easter.

Falling Into My Lap

Our kitchen--observe the evidence of Boy Roomie's homemade ale brewing on the stove and counter and sink. Notice the covered banana bread.

Today things fell into my lap. I think it's karma from a donation I made to a Save the Arizona National Parks campaign against my better judgement this morning. I was walking just off campus when I got stopped by a volunteer, and one thing led to another, and suddenly I was dishing out fifteen bucks to save beautiful places I may never visit.

I felt guilt tumbling in my stomach--silly donation or right choice? Then, as if on cue, a girl offered me a free chocolate cookie outside an ice cream sandwich shop. Free Thing #1! Then--

2. An advertising exec stopped me and asked if I would answer some questions about hockey for a short video. Apparently, a big name hockey star interviewed me, and I gave really stupid answers to all his questions (I think the ad was about how little people know about hockey in AZ). Anyway, they liked my footage so much, they gave me six free tickets to a game. Swanky lookin' seats too.
3. A beautiful, dark, and cool September night for bikin'.
4. Upon arriving home, I was completely enveloped in cinnamon. Girl roomie had her beuff over, and they had just pulled banana bread out of the oven. Who do you think got the first slice? Moi. We unwound to MTV, and I was just about to hit the hay when the other four ladies of my sketch comedy group called me up.
5. Cut to a certified girls night complete with Mean Girls playing in the background as we talked about boys.
6. Chelle baked those Pillsbury sugar cookies with pictures on them--back to school variety. Which I ate.
7. Kale works at Starbucks and, thus, had a huge bag of leftover scones, muffins, danish, oh my! Which I ate.
8. Arriving home in the wee hours of morning, I said, "Thanks, moon," because she was so big and so bright.

NOTE: I wrote this last night, but decided not to post it as I was falling asleep at the keyboard. Good call, Alice--it was littered with little sidebars like, "but idont needany" and "dad foam theeeeeee."

Everything's beautiful,
everything's a holiday,
the day you live without it.

Laboring

Alice + Kath. Sunset on Lake Michigan. Summer 2011.

Today was Labor Day:

-Went running
-Read a lot about dramaturgy
-Met my best friend from Chicago's best friend from college (who happens to have just started a PhD program here) for lunch at a delightful breakfast/sandwich/bagel restaurant
-Wrote at my desk
-Wrote in the kitchen
-Wrote by the pool
-Talked to Jamin on the phone
-Talked to Henne on the phone
-Talked to Berger on the phone
-Baked cookies to celebrate a fellow playwright's new opening
-Gave my roommate and the dude who was studying biochem with him cookies because how horrible is it to be a in a house with fresh baked cookies and not get any?
-Went out to a lil bar to see new friend JD host a stand-up show
-Wrote in this blog

I'll keep working my way back to you, babe,
with a burning love inside.
I'm working my way back to you, babe,
with a happiness that died.

Hooray for Arizona Day!

Tuesday was Arizona Day! Not statewide, but certainly me-wide.

1. CACTUS
It was my last day with my aunt's friend (Maf). I woke up early and went running to soak in the desert and mountains one more time before becoming a city girl. I was having a pleasant time until while swinging backward, my right hand flew into a cactus--and it stuck to me. I thought cacti were prickly, sure, but I didn't know they attacked. A bulb of the plant popped right off and it's needles were thoroughly wedged into my hand. It was extremely painful--my knee jerk reaction was to grab it out with my other hand. A DOY the cactus just pierced that hand too. After some wincing and blood, I got at least one hand free and made my embarrassed way back to the house with a huge chuck of cactus on me. I learned that combs are the best way to free cacti from skin and that the pain goes away instantly once the needles have been pulled. WELCOME TO AZ!

2. PETROGLYPH
Maf had free passes to the university Petroglyph museum! Petroglyphs are drawings/chipping on rocks made my ancient peoples. I expected to find it interesting, but I was incredibly inspired. People from thousands of years ago made these designs we can only blindly guess about, and I was staring at them wondering. I can't begin to describe the freedom I felt from walking around the exhibit. WELCOME TO AZ!

3. CUTE OWLS
As a bonus we stopped at the bird rescue place Maf volunteer's at. Again, I figured I'd be interested, but I ended up overjoyed to see tiny owls and other desert animals. WELCOME TO AZ!

4. WELCOME WAGON
In late afternoon, I made my way to my new condo and spent about an hour or so emptying the car and beginning organization. Then, a second year grad student in my program invited me out for dinner. While I asked a bunch of questions about classes and professors, he gave me a little driving tour of the area. WELCOME TO AZ!

5. HOME SWEET HOME
When I got home my roommate and his girlfriend asked if I would join them for homemade tira misu. Uh DOY. They had another friend over, so we ate and then played a board game. WELCOME TO AZ!

Doesn't it seem like everything's comin' up roses?


Look at the bottom right of the rock. It's two deer kissing. Petroglyph!

Who Will Tie It Up with a Ribbon and Put It in a Box for Me?

One time in Japan, Grinz and Yatchface and I were jumping around our tatami room being happy and looking out the big old window, and I was explaining that when I was a child for a good year I used to wake up and sing "Who Will Buy" from Oliver! out my bedroom window. It just seemed appropriate. Then we were laughing and dancing and Yatchface was like "DO IT! DO IT TOMORROW!" And I was like "HAHA OKAY!" And eventually the night slowed down and we passed out on the floor. In the morning I clawed out of my blankets, drew back the curtains, and started squawking "Who Will Buy." Yatchface tossed about, shielding her eyes from sunlight, saying "Noooooooooo..."


Gradj, the roomies

But what was normal in the evening, by the morning seems insane.

Kinda Bus-ay. K-K-Kinda Bus-ay.

Last week I read Le Petit Prince on the elliptical machines. During periods in my life I don't have time for leisure reads I just do it while I work out--on a stationary bike or while power-walking.

Last quarter I had so much reading due all the time I had no opportunities for my own pleasure. I had to read the great American classics for my lit class while pretending to climb up hills. My professor frequented the gym the same times I would. Before lunch Saturdays, early morning weekdays...She would see me. We would discuss White Noise while stair-stepping. She would ignore me as people in gyms do so everyone can just focus and sweat alone...but she would see Belovedd creeping out from behind the number bar on machines.

I know it looks sad. The best reads, and I sip them while dripping. Would Saint-Exupéry be rolling in his grave? I don'y know. I don't know, but I'm busy. What else can I do?

Also, I watched four Gaga music videos today. Also, I am the worst procrastinator. Also...who were those white bodies running around the Chapel Green a couple nights ago?


Roomies S10: Grinz & Yatchface