Notes: Tales From The Table

Most of what I do here is a note-taking.  There are always 6 or 7 different stories brewing my balding head.  In order for me to include them in a coffee-table book or whatever, I have to write some of it here.

I have been working as a massage therapist for almost a year now.  The women and men that I meet in this environment are fascinating, and will make it into some story I tell some day.  I take notes on them.  This is one of those instances.

Tales From The Table:  Jasmine

A regular customer of mine (since March), came to see me yesterday.

She always divulges too much information.

In the elevator from the locker room to our massage room on her first visit, when I asked her if there were any areas she's like me to focus on, she replied "Well, my boyfriend proposed to me last night."

"Congratulations" I said.

She continued, "and I told him no.  I think I'm making a huge mistake."

I said "So, the first thing you did was come to the spa?  Great!!"

"No," she answered, "The first thing I did was call my shrink.  Then I came to the spa.  So, I guess you can work on whatever you want."

Too much information.

Yesterday when she came, nothing happened in the elevator.  I got her to the room.  Told her I would step out for a second to let her get undressed.  I let her know that when I return she should be face down and under the sheet.

When I returned, she was face up, naked, and on top of the sheet.  Seeing the shock on my face, she said "Well, I just had Botox a few hours ago and I don't think I should be lying face down."

Today's Top 10

1. I’ve been talking to strangers recently.  Coffee shops.  The bank.  Laundromat.  And not in any weird way.  “How’s that book?”  “Great jacket.”  Small talk.  It’s no more than 3 minutes.  Smiling can be wonderful.

2. A mutual friend and I share a former friend of mine.  She confessed to me that she often fears the day she too will be let go.  I told her to call me when she stops worrying about that.

3. I’ve been waking up in the middle of the night.  4:AM recently.  Tea tastes so much better at this hour.  And it’s amazing what can come out of a keyboard with a good set of headphones.

4. I don’t miss the way you used to throw yourself at men.  You scared off half the white boys I know.

5. He has a dog.

6. At least 3 times a year, I try to reinvent my recipe for collard greens.

7. I’ve never once denied who I am.  And I don't mean that in any sort of anthem-type, poetic stance.  I can truthfully say that I have never in my life denied any portion of myself.  If you came expecting something else, that’s actually not my problem. 

8. I miss the relevance of MC Hammer.  “Turn This Mutha Out” is still my jam.

1. Recently, I’ve been lyrically studying the genius of MC Lyte… the original.

9. And all we have seems to be RuPaul.  Putting on the heels, and the lashes, and the gowns, and the wigs may be all right for some.  It’s the clown, the Mandingo, or the thug I guess.  What about those who like to secretly translate German lieder just for fun?

10. There are characters that live in my neighborhood with names like Orange, Housedress, and Nosy Pam (R.I.P.).  They are the reasons I sing with the windows open. 

Today's Top 10... (and a little extra)

1. If 2 birds land in your hand early, do you still get a worm in your bush if you only use the 1 stone?

2. What is with white people, September 1^st, and pumpkin-spiced anything?  It’s just like the walls come down on that day.

3. I’m compiling a group of Deletion Letters that I will be sending out in nicely wrapped boxes as Christmas presents this year.

4. “Art is art.  Short for artificial.  Good art, the art of art, is about being as real as you can under these artificial circumstances.” – Joni Mitchell

5. The common misconceptions that I am angry, regretful, guilty, fearful, worried, judging, competitive, or looking to place blame, usually come from …Scaredy Cats.

1. Haha, I called you Scaredy Cat.

6. Have you ever felt “compelled” (direct quote) to betray a friend?  I never have.

7. Distractions can be nice.  I spent the weekend at a wedding in Provincetown.  Most of yesterday was spent in a car with my best friend.  My evening, sitting in my room listening to the modern day equivalent of a mix-tape…in every sense of the word.  Remember the absolutely ridiculous times through which you still smile.

1. Also, if he makes mix tapes, he’s gotta be pretty cool, right? 

8. Each spring, since I was a senior in college, I have re-read “Valley of the Dolls”.

9. It is completely possible that Candy Crush causes hemorrhoids.

10. I do not like the word “partner”.

A Bonus #11…Because I felt like it.

11. Anyone who can give me a valid reason for liking your own Facebook status, please respond with said reasons in the comments section below…if you have time, as I would assume liking your own Facebook stati can be a rather cumbersome job.

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My Last "Last Tuesday" event is tomorrow night.  It's with the LEGENDARY Amber Martin.  We're trying to dedicate the evening to the women of the 80s and the men who made them drink.  Come see us at Duane Park at 8PM if you can.  It's free, y'all.  

The 80s got me remembering this ditty I did earlier this year with MCDB!!  Girl, where are you?  Should we try the 90s next?

Don't you wanna?

Don’t you wanna?

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            Not picked up and thrown across the room

           

                        Although, I know some of you little bitches are into that.

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            Somebody to grab you by the friendly parts

                        Instead of just grabbing you by the back of your head

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            Instead of just letting them place an ashtray in the small of your back

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            Because the subway alone can be an awful place to try to fit in.

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            Instead of being so angry all the time.

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            By the way he walks into, out of, and across the room.

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            By the way he cooks for you?

            Because dividing recipes in half was getting to be no fun.

                        And he understands that you just don’t like chocolate.

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

            By the light he brings into your world.

                       

                        Cuz it was getting awfully dark there for a second.

                                    & being a love-sick Queen didn’t even work for Cleopatra

Don’t you wanna be moved by somebody?

Don’t you wanna be moved?

Don’t you?

What’s the answer?

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In an effort to get through these next few months, things have got to be compiled from a variety of sources and kept like doggies in a row.  Is it doggies?  I thought it was ducks at one point?  

Organizing thoughts from different receipts, napkins (I still do that) and legal pads of paper (I also, still write, but only because my pen collection is rivalrous), is only arduous when I compare it to my recent attempts at [re]organizing my OkCupid and Match.com profiles.  

I realize I'm asking a series of questions.  

Do I move you?  

Do you move me?  What color are his eyes?

However do I want it?  Try to put his smell into words.

Don't you want to be moved by somebody?  

At a time of day when the horizon isn't important - maybe noon, I may also question these:  

Did she settle?  They must lie silently in bed.  

Did you see his smile when he said they were opening up their relationship to a third?  

There's no way he really wants that.

I found it was easier to study others instead of paying attention to myself.  And it's left me perplexed.  I'm not impressed by what I find.  The research.  The excavation.  The cream of the crop seems to be rapidly curdling.  

But it's sometimes comical for a fool like me to believe in faith.