chain of thoughts #1999.9999.2755.(c)
this morning, while trying to put some orden in my chambers, I discovered that the kitty --people, I give you Tiger Lili(th), see her well-- has made some scratch marks on my rolltop desk. I examined them more closely and decided that it wasn't too bad at all; they're marks she made trying to get to the top of the desk and she'll stop using her nails as soon as she feels more secure in the jump. Besides, I could put some wax on them; the marks wouldn't go away, but they'd show less.
my mom would freak out if she saw them, I thought next. she hates anything Lili related and she's the kind of person who cannot stand a marr in her stuff. she scrubs, sands, revarnishes, repaints, and mourns any casualties in her home. that got me thinking about how I kind of like that my furniture can tell a story. I wouldn't like to have a household full of brand-new looking impecable pieces without one stain, one scratch, one cigarette burn on them. I like to sit here and look at the table where the PC sits and wonder why my brother squibbled 'Sword' right under the keyboard.
the marks also reminded me of another scar my desk bears, this one much bigger than a few gentle kitten abrasions. I visually scanned the top of the desk, looking for it. my desk is covered with an assortment of girly shit and when I couldn't find what I was looking for, so I started to move memorabilia, figurines, snapshots, dried flowers and other useless crap around, to no avail.
I finally swept all that cute stuff off the top and ran my fingers all over it. nothing. the wood was even, smoothly waxed. no depressions or breaking or distortion.
but how did it disappear? had it even been there in the first place?but I remember it like it was yesterday.
it was the second --maybe third-- night bel and I spent together. I remember clearly it wasn't the very first one --I would have considered what happened a bad omen, at the very least. but that night there was no dark cloud upon me; I'd met a guy a few weeks before, and he knocked my breath away: handsome, intelligent spoken, long fingers of an artist, great smell. the first thought that went through my head when I first met him was 'a very nice guy, smells good, but he's the kind of guy who's usually not into girls like me.' and incredibly now it seemed that this wonderful alien man, so unlike anything I'd ever dated before, thought I was just as cool.
I'd been reluctant to believe it for awhile --thought he was up to something there; his quite obvious interest in me seemed suspicious. but on that october --maybe early november-- night I was starting to allow myself to believe it. we were in love. this could work. this could be It. I felt a good match for him, just as he was for me. we were already making all kinds of plans for the future, and we were talking marriage. it was that big.
so we'd come home last night to find that we had the apartment for ourselves, a rare and delightful treat in a place I shared with two other people and their diverse cultural attachés. we lit all the candles in the place and made love, talked, made love again, talked some more, until we fell asleep with the first lights, exhausted and happy in each other's arms.
some weird popping woke me up. I opened my eyes to find that my desktop was catching on fire, for in the throes of passion we forgot to sniff out the candles. we put it out fairly easily, but the top board was a warped and there was a big burnmark.
the burnmark I couldn't find this morning. my eyes filled up with tears, I swear. where was it? did this mean that night didn't happen at all? or did this mean that whatever burned that night isn't there anymore?
of course, it means neither. I found out later that my mom actually turned the top board upside down with the aid of my dad so the burnmark is out of sight, forever. I also think this is weirdly symbolic, given my parents' attitude towards bel.
Lili doesn't care one way or the other, though. she just likes to lounge on top of the desk because she likes to command the higher ground.
my mom would freak out if she saw them, I thought next. she hates anything Lili related and she's the kind of person who cannot stand a marr in her stuff. she scrubs, sands, revarnishes, repaints, and mourns any casualties in her home. that got me thinking about how I kind of like that my furniture can tell a story. I wouldn't like to have a household full of brand-new looking impecable pieces without one stain, one scratch, one cigarette burn on them. I like to sit here and look at the table where the PC sits and wonder why my brother squibbled 'Sword' right under the keyboard.
the marks also reminded me of another scar my desk bears, this one much bigger than a few gentle kitten abrasions. I visually scanned the top of the desk, looking for it. my desk is covered with an assortment of girly shit and when I couldn't find what I was looking for, so I started to move memorabilia, figurines, snapshots, dried flowers and other useless crap around, to no avail.
I finally swept all that cute stuff off the top and ran my fingers all over it. nothing. the wood was even, smoothly waxed. no depressions or breaking or distortion.
but how did it disappear? had it even been there in the first place?but I remember it like it was yesterday.
it was the second --maybe third-- night bel and I spent together. I remember clearly it wasn't the very first one --I would have considered what happened a bad omen, at the very least. but that night there was no dark cloud upon me; I'd met a guy a few weeks before, and he knocked my breath away: handsome, intelligent spoken, long fingers of an artist, great smell. the first thought that went through my head when I first met him was 'a very nice guy, smells good, but he's the kind of guy who's usually not into girls like me.' and incredibly now it seemed that this wonderful alien man, so unlike anything I'd ever dated before, thought I was just as cool.
I'd been reluctant to believe it for awhile --thought he was up to something there; his quite obvious interest in me seemed suspicious. but on that october --maybe early november-- night I was starting to allow myself to believe it. we were in love. this could work. this could be It. I felt a good match for him, just as he was for me. we were already making all kinds of plans for the future, and we were talking marriage. it was that big.
so we'd come home last night to find that we had the apartment for ourselves, a rare and delightful treat in a place I shared with two other people and their diverse cultural attachés. we lit all the candles in the place and made love, talked, made love again, talked some more, until we fell asleep with the first lights, exhausted and happy in each other's arms.
some weird popping woke me up. I opened my eyes to find that my desktop was catching on fire, for in the throes of passion we forgot to sniff out the candles. we put it out fairly easily, but the top board was a warped and there was a big burnmark.
the burnmark I couldn't find this morning. my eyes filled up with tears, I swear. where was it? did this mean that night didn't happen at all? or did this mean that whatever burned that night isn't there anymore?
of course, it means neither. I found out later that my mom actually turned the top board upside down with the aid of my dad so the burnmark is out of sight, forever. I also think this is weirdly symbolic, given my parents' attitude towards bel.
Lili doesn't care one way or the other, though. she just likes to lounge on top of the desk because she likes to command the higher ground.
posted by gaby san at
6/27/2005 12:51:00 PM
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