skates

i'm not sure if it seems like i just do fun stuff all the time or if i just make it sound interesting by offering my take on it all. my life is full of the same drudgery as yours, dishes, laundry, floors, meals. i just don't let it eat me alive.

as i was thinking about it this morning, it came to me that i dismiss the drudgery to the periphery of my life, i do not let it take center stage, ever. poetry weaves in and out of everything i do. even sleeping.

my dear friends who lament to me about not knowing what to do, or how to do it, break my heart because i remember a time when i was there. i remember a time when i worked and slept and worked and that was about it.

but then i began to go rollerskating, i've always loved to skate. never learned how to rollerblade, though i've often thought about it. now i wonder if the old bod can handle the bumps and bruises of blading/learning to blade. it probably would have been wise to learn it when i was younger and less inclined to really hurt something if i took a dive. but now, there's a lot more of me than there was then, so it might be dangerous. i'm a committed skater, so i will likely just get new skates when i feel the urge. got rid of my old ones for some reason (i don't know why) and have been longing to skate again lately.

when i was nineteen, i found a large park with great skating paths, it was about 45 minutes away from where i worked, but the beach was about 1.5 hrs away, so it was a nice compromise. i grew up by the beach in my high school years and skated from torrance beach all the way up past manhatten beach. then when i moved after high school to orange county, i'd skate from huntington beach to laguna beach. nothing like skating down the beach.

i wiped out once, i will tell you this briefly, as it is the only broken bone story i've got. i was carrying a ghetto blaster (remember when radios were huge?), playing metallica or something, and my stopper, break, whatever it's called, came off. i went flying but my hand around the ghetto blaster broke my fall, except that i had been in a beauty pageant and had on a full set of fake nails (that is not as great a story as it sounds, but perhaps i'll tell it), and my nail ripped off with all the tender flesh of my pinkie on it, and i broke that tiny pinkie bone. ouch!

a guy walking his dog went right past the bloody mess that i was, didn't even ask if i was okay. i picked up all that went flying and sopped up the blood in my tank top. then my sister took me to emergency after i made it back to our apartment.

i've completely gotten off my point, but that is all right, i had to get that story out. sometimes things get in my head and if i let them sit there they take up all the room like a big fat man on the middle of the couch. no where to sit until he leaves, so i write about it, essentially feeding him, and he leaves.

i'll write more about drudgery in my book. which was my whole point anyway.

peace.