HOLD ON TIGHT

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT And when we were children, staying at the archduke's, My cousin's, he took me out on a sled, And I was frightened. He said, Marie, Marie, hold on tight. And down we went. In the mountains, there you feel free. I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter. ~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot Thursday, December 18, 2008 bill's mechanics tonight there will be a huge blizzard, tomorrow i will wake up to 14 inches of snow. i've weaned myself down to 1 benedryl a night. the whole day i have been drifting amidst a field of flowers, in need of sleep. i've done most of the craiglisting and apartment stuff (i love craigslist, and i realised the moment i discovered it, all i wanted to do was to list all of my stuff on craigslist and ebay, and that was the moment i realised, i had absolutely no sense of proper ownership). got the fireplace fixed, bought myself snow tires at the mechanic's. being the only girl in a workshop of grubby, cigarette-smoking car mechanics, is a hilarious experience. enter into bill's workshop, and the smell of noxious car fumes and stale cigarette smoke hits you like a vodka shot. the phone rings, it's the obnoxious phone advertisers, "you gotta call before 6am," yells steve, "that's when our boss, roger is in." (roger is not the boss, he is the cleaner, and he does not come in before 6am, steve explains later, eyes twinkling.) "you ever played a prank on s'one?" asks steve, tire in hand, rolling out the ithacan drawl, "i played one on that damn roger. i put a nail like this, something with 20 years of grease, (he lifted up a rusty nail for dramatic effect) into his soda, while he's not looking. he musta found out when he was three-quarters way through. oh boy was he mad." "so what'd he do?" i ask, amused. "roger, he took a grease gun, filled it with grease and shot me with it. i took an hour cleaning the shit up." then he asks, "so you ever played a prank before?" "sure i have, when i was little," i say. "how little?" "very little," i say, putting my hands out to illustrate heights. "what you say," asks bill, who is 70, the owner of the shop, cig in mouth, but doesn't look one day his age (and i tell him that, for his kicks and my kicks), "you gotta speak louder, you got one of those high girl voices that's hard to hear." they put the snow tires into the car for me, tell me to drive safe, and i do. posted by dawn # 2:54 PM Comments: Post a Comment << Home		[publishing] Publishers Weekly . Dystel & Goderich . New York Center for Independent Publishing . Association of American University Presses . Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators [people] clarisse . nurul . aunty zarina (ummi's bakery) . jeremy . pak . cyril . softblow . karen & kenny (booksactually) . eric . joel . [other loves] digitaljournalist . ballet dictionary . poetshouse . urbanwordnyc [me] dawn, singapore, new york city, ithaca. [yesterday] history doctors and nurses things to do when you have lost your voice sick to the core wedding glassware am lit break my hea-a-a-a-a-ar-t, break my heart Comus, 1787 on the verge of a trembling walking with grace [archives] January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009

HE SAID, MARIE, MARIE, HOLD ON TIGHT

And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter.

~ The Waste Land, "The Burial of The Dead", Eliot

Thursday, December 18, 2008

bill's mechanics

tonight there will be a huge blizzard, tomorrow i will wake up to 14 inches of snow. i've weaned myself down to 1 benedryl a night. the whole day i have been drifting amidst a field of flowers, in need of sleep. i've done most of the craiglisting and apartment stuff (i love craigslist, and i realised the moment i discovered it, all i wanted to do was to list all of my stuff on craigslist and ebay, and that was the moment i realised, i had absolutely no sense of proper ownership). got the fireplace fixed, bought myself snow tires at the mechanic's. being the only girl in a workshop of grubby, cigarette-smoking car mechanics, is a hilarious experience. enter into bill's workshop, and the smell of noxious car fumes and stale cigarette smoke hits you like a vodka shot. the phone rings, it's the obnoxious phone advertisers, "you gotta call before 6am," yells steve, "that's when our boss, roger is in." (roger is not the boss, he is the cleaner, and he does not come in before 6am, steve explains later, eyes twinkling.) "you ever played a prank on s'one?" asks steve, tire in hand, rolling out the ithacan drawl, "i played one on that damn roger. i put a nail like this, something with 20 years of grease, (he lifted up a rusty nail for dramatic effect) into his soda, while he's not looking. he musta found out when he was three-quarters way through. oh boy was he mad." "so what'd he do?" i ask, amused. "roger, he took a grease gun, filled it with grease and shot me with it. i took an hour cleaning the shit up." then he asks, "so you ever played a prank before?" "sure i have, when i was little," i say. "how little?" "very little," i say, putting my hands out to illustrate heights. "what you say," asks bill, who is 70, the owner of the shop, cig in mouth, but doesn't look one day his age (and i tell him that, for his kicks and my kicks), "you gotta speak louder, you got one of those high girl voices that's hard to hear." they put the snow tires into the car for me, tell me to drive safe, and i do.

posted by dawn # 2:54 PM

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