As my summer nears a close in LA, I’ve become more aware of what that means in the next week. It’s Thursday. I leave on Tuesday to go home to Virginia. From Virginia, I’ll drive to New York City to move into my dorm. So, I’m trying to plan my last few days here. I’ve been so excited to get out of LA that I haven’t put much thought into what I’ll miss.
Some people are just M&M’s
sugar and chocolate
exoskeleton that snaps between your teeth
yellow like a taxi
blue like a Gatorade
leave them in the sun and they melt like lovers
they come neatly wrapped in paper packaging
that you’re meant to open
perforated to perfection
tempting your redemption
it wasn’t happenstance
you were set up
“Still water runs deep.” That’s a cliche that my grandma uses when people surprise her. When I was younger, she would tell me that my mom was always her quiet child but that she got married and had children first. So, still water runs deep, meaning that people are humming and pulsing beneath their exterior.
There’s a difference between writer’s block and feeling uninspired. The other day I was listening to the radio and that Rhianna song came on and the chorus says, “bi*** better have my money,” and I started to think about the wide dissemination of her songs versus the lack of meaning being imparted onto the listeners. Suddenly, I felt uninspired.
I first learned the word facade/façade in middle school. We were learning about French art and architecture. The teacher put a slide of a church on the overhead projector, one of those crude, cumbersome machines with sheer printouts. She explained that the church had a false front or a façade. I remember thnking to myself (I wasn’t vocal in my younger and more vulnerable years) “why not make something through and through? Why put up a facade?”
In Santa Monica I live next to a hotel. Sometimes I glance over and see people walking around in their hotel rooms. It’s not creepy because I’m not looking for them and I’m sure they are not looking to see me.