Aggravation (143) Anxiety (93) April Fool (1) Bitchiness (65) Bobby (84) BP (7) Burning in Hell (36) Bush (66) Calme au Blanc (13) Catholic Church (33) Charlotte Cushman (11) Cobalt Blue (26) Confusion (11) Crime (22) Daily Life (144) Dangling Conversations (41) Deep Thoughts (45) Depravity (29) Depression (43) Divertissement (13) Embarrassing Moments (16) Family (44) Friends (110) Frozen (15) Fun (60) Gay (67) Gertrude Stein and a Companion (19) Glass Menagerie (34) Good Things (72) Government (58) Gustav (16) Hate (20) Holidays (36) Hope (37) Hugging the Shoulder (6) Humid City (9) Humor (155) Hurricanes (3) Internets (8) Jesus (5) Justice (6) Katrina (119) Latrine (15) Life in the Quarter (353) Louisiana (12) Mardi Gras (85) Mark Rylance (1) Movie Stars (35) Music (22) Nagin (20) New Orleans (126) News (28) Nighthawks (29) NOLA Partee (1) Obits (12) Our-Leaders-in-Their-Wisdom (111) Outlaw City (126) Personal (404) Photography (532) Pity Post (11) Politics (79) R I P (12) Religion (20) Retirement (11) Righteous Shit (24) Sadness (37) Saints (19) Search-Engine Crap (20) Sex (34) Sick Humor (60) Silly Stuff (150) Southern Decadence (22) Striking Words (23) Stupid Shit (217) Take Me Out (41) Tattoos (18) Tennessee Williams (64) The End (1) The Human Comedy (15) Theatre (508) Thinking Blogger Award (1) Thrill Me (37) Treme (7) Valhalla (42) War (28) Weekly Photo Challenge (41) Weird Shit (9)
Monday, December 27, 2010
When Did These Changes Happen?
Oh, I don't mean the gray hair or the deep wrinkles lining my face. I'm not even referring to the bags under my eyes or the bumps appearing on my once pert and upturned nose. No, these changes only happened a few weeks ago. Overnight. I can deal with them with a little color and cold cream.
No, I'm talking about profound inner changes, changes to my way of thinking and feeling.
Let me give you an example.
Yesterday, since the Saints weren't playing, Bobby started flipping channels and we encountered a figure-skating event. I used to love figure skating. I would plan my winter months around the various events. I doted on the divine Peggy Fleming, the adorable Dorothy Hamil, the little oomph-girl Kristi Yamaguchi. I let myself be dazzled by the incomparable BB (not Bardot, but Boitano), the doofus-who-could Scotty Hamilton, and stumpy Elvis Stojko with the big butt. I hung on every prissy word Dick Button ever said, although I never had a clue what he was talking about.
So when Bobby stumbled onto this event, I begged him to pause, to let me savor a few moments of unbridled joy.
There on the screen was Brian Boitano in an unfortunate see-through shirt introducing the singing group Heart. He was speaking in a reedy voice, pitched slightly higher than the voices of either of the two ladies he was speaking to. His body was as reed-like as his voice. If it hadn't been for his thick thighs, I wouldn't have known him for who he was. For who he once was.
The ladies of Heart were going to sing a song, and some little girl was going to skate to it. They started, she pushed off onto the ice, and ... nothing.
The skating was bland. It had no purpose. The little girl's movements gave me no clue why she should be there. Did she want to be there? I didn't know.
I told Bobby he could go on with his channel surf.
And I wondered what had changed? Was it me? Was it the skating? Were my memories false? Little white lies my mind told me just to give me a little pleasure and a nudge to get on with the rest of my life?
I don't have a clue.