Thursday, 21 February 2013

4 life lessons

The first lesson we learned on the dank-and-dirty was never be afraid to make a fool of yourself. The furthest out you can go is the best place you can be. We wondered whether it would serve us well to be sensible ladies, keep to the lamppost side of the street, but even the lampposts have a pact with the pavements and sense is only sensible when you've run out of wittier places to go. Call me Cookie and I'll call you Jeanne Moreau and we can string these pearls through our hair and call for imaginary butlers, monkey butlers, men. I don't have a sales pitch for the tart gin fizz that we'll peddle to our people, but maybe that's okay, because I'm happy to slump with you on this sliding scale and take one for the team if the team is you and me.

The second lesson we learned was cute girls open doors, tell it, a pretty face makes the gate disintegrate. If you wear enough mascara and puff powder, princess, then you don't have to worry about the stoop as a stop sign or the stairs as a stile. We dressed ourselves fine so the walls were ours to step through, we made the most like wayward reject Hollywood ghosts, LA bubblegum gals, and you blew a pink globe and we stepped up inside and all through the city these stiletto toes tramped. They call you a tramp and you call him a trailer for the main event because this can't be it, you're not a tease, it's a test, right? Better things for us, they’d better be promised, because we're hungry bitches and our hair is higher than our hearts.

The third lesson we learned was between your thighs is a velvet purse of rubies and gold coin and motherfucking diamonds. It's so easy to step them apart and step up for the shot and take it on the chin, on the shin like bruises, on the nose, on every place you can take things on, just hold your breath while you're doing it, porpoise princess. This was the lesson of getting shit done, getting a break, finding a way to drag out of this hole. Do you have a long vine like Rapunzel or are you just hanging on to your own hair, pulling it out of your scalp? I don't think you're crazy but it's so quiet in that padded place so maybe you could take a day trip and spend it painting your green eyes brown.

The fourth lesson we learned was never trust a man in a leopard skin coat, no matter how many guns he keeps in his pants. This toolbelt isn't for hammering in your nails and these screws are staying forever unstrung. I had a feeling that we'd be better off alone, but alone is a terrifying horse with broken stirrups, and stirrups and stilettos besides, do you know what I mean? The heart is a lonely hunter, she said, and sometimes it is tiring on the lonely side of the hunt and sometimes sending our own fail-safe prey for his dinner seems like some kind of a gingerbread house plan.

We learned these lessons the hard way, so I'm sharing them with you in the hopes that you can roll the dice and step out into this choose your own adventure and take the right page turns and avoid the streetlights and the padded rooms and the pregnancy and the gun. I'm sharing in the hope you go bang on your own accord because there's nothing quieter than the sound of a firecracker waiting for another young man to come along with a match, waiting for another spark to light her. Get out there with your own sticks and magnifying glass and foolishness, get out there with your crown. Hit someone up for something and put it in your knapsack and let's start again, princess, let's get ready to run.

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