We all do things differently.


In London, we went out to eat and there were many Muslims. On the street and in the restaurant. The women fully veiled. They did not eat. The men ate their food. The women watched. We could not see these women, they were all covered up. Perhaps they were enjoying being all out in the open except for their face. We can say that this is wrong, but that is a personal opinion. For all I know, these women might be as happy as clams. (Clams in the ocean that is. I doubt clams are happy when they are about to be made into clam chowder.)

Women in Southern California. There is a look I find scary. It’s the look where the woman is super skinny and wears a baseball cap, she wears long pants and covers up her thin arms and legs, but all the time she thinks about how fat she is. The Los Angeles woman thinks day and night about how fat she is. I think the Muslim woman is probably more comfortable than the Los Angeles woman. She can’t eat with her husband but sometimes she gets to eat, surely. But to each his own. We all get to be excruciatingly thin if we want to be. That could be your whole life work: Just being thin.

There are people who do all kinds of things in the world. We are all different. Some of us wear short skirts, some wear long. Some have shoes with very high heels, some wear skanky clothes, some wear skinny jeans. Some people make buckets of money. Some don’t seem to care about money at all. The thing to do is to accept people for who they are.

But the freaking skinny women with their baseball caps scare me. I try to say to myself, to each his own, but I can’t help thinking how freaky it is to be in a country with plenty of food and to choose to look like you are dying.
We all have something we don’t understand.
Today, Mark’s birthday, I went for a run and then made him breakfast after I walked to the store to buy the food. We went to Eloise and Colleen’s house and Eloise read us her poetry. We went to the plant store and bought plants and did some gardening, and I bought groceries and made a Chinese chicken salad. We like to stay with the non traditional, so with our salad, we had tequila. The first plan was white wine which might have gone better, but Mark wanted margaritas so we had them.

I am reading with Rex at Diesel Books on Wednesday and on Thursday with Douglas Kearney and Peter Kline at Mrs. Dalloways in Berkeley. This weekend is my birthday weekend. At the end of this, three is a breath of air. And that air moves in huge circles. Breathe in and breathe out.

I understand love, clouds, joy, books, dreaming, the imagination. I understand happiness.

Published in: on April 20, 2014 at 8:08 pm  Leave a Comment  

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