Easter Parade

When I was little, we would go to church on Easter. The stained glass windows made me feel European, and after services, I took fruit punch and chocolate chunk cookies.

Spring Foward

I saw a shade of green today I hadn't seen in months,
or should I say the green saw me.

I ran up the hill and the grass blades blushed,
a translucent hue of verdant reserved for peas.

I was not ashamed and stared right back,
surprised by the lavish intensity.

And the meadow seemed greener, not for the lack
of all the spent rainfalls it weathered to be.

Gullible and Emphatic

The tweaker across the street is going to tell "that dumb ass motherfucking cheesedick roommate that [he] don't have to pay rent if those dogs keep shitting everywhere their ass can fit." And that "there is enough energy in a pinch of baby powder to power the whole planet until the apocalypse brings a heap a hurting on youse too dumb to ride on out before." And that if he "ever goes to jail for good, like for good good, he's going to get an Arby's Bacon, Beef 'n Cheddar for his last deserts."

Cupid's Arrow, Straight and Narrow

Who is your Valentine?

And Step on It

We danced in the living room like sweaty psychos, like dervishes, like saints. It was a Saturday, a flaneur day, a bright light night day and we were going downtown. Our voices were loud from being young and the music made them more so. "Did you call a cab?" we all shouted. "Yes," one of us said.

We piled into the taxi and sat on top each other. We were all laughing like we didn't know or care where we were headed, but we weren't lost, no we weren't lost. "Red River and 7th" said the backseat and that too was funny. "Cesar Chavez and Sixty-Nine!" said the backseat and no, that wasn't funny, but we all laughed.

The taxi hadn't moved yet. "Really, Red River and 7th would be perfect," I said. And then there was silence. The cab driver stared forward, eyes dead ahead. "Yes, I think I could do that," she said. The taxi still hadn't budged and we didn't know whether to laugh or be calm too, and so we said thank you. She said, "You're welcome," and then explained, "It's a little test I do to see people's reactions, to predict my tip. A sense of humor is important. Humor is a way people are able to ease the fear of death we all share." She let up on the brake and we were off.

We made eyes at each other but kept our mouths shut. "Yes, I've been driving a cab for fourteen years, and humor is what saves me, saves all of us. Jokes, practical jokes, antics and pranks are created in order to be funny. I once saw a stand-up comedian, but I don't remember the punchlines."

Our driver spoke, uninterrupted, for the remainder of the trip. "Taxi driving, when you think about it, is the noblest profession. Because we show up where we are needed. Because we accept strangers, allow them our company, and let them trust us with their lives. Each taxi ride is a brief, vehicular community. Our souls strapped together with seatbelts. But I am weary of strangers. And I live with four fish. I once knew a joke about a fish but I forgot it. Humor is very important."

The cab driver's voice was deep and honeyed, like a radio talk show host. She had picked up that way of phrasing, too, and you could hear her searching for her words, as if she was addressing an important audience. "Traffic lights are another one of the sacred mysteries --- controlling the crossing of paths. But when the universe favors you, and you hit that stride of green after green, it feels like flying."

The cab had been stopped since "universe" but she hadn't stopped talking. So we handed her a twenty and tumbled onto the sidewalk. Not able to walk away, I leaned back in through the open window and asked, "Were you able to predict the tip?" The cab driver stared forward, eyes dead ahead. "Tipping can be a measure of civilized society," she said. "It is a gesture of gratitude for a service rendered and the average person will often," we heard her voice continue, alone, in her cab as she drove away.

At that moment, I stepped off the curb, a step closer to where the cab had been, and my foot was swallowed by a muddy puddle. And we all laughed, yes we laughed, and we felt even younger for it.

Quarter to Ten

Yesterday, I found myself in a store called Quarter to Ten. My friend bought Air Jordan logo earrings and I tried on some wigs. I also found a cabbage patch doll birthday card. It was a delicate watercolor on textured ecru card stock, with a floral filigreed border. The center depicted a cabbage patch doll in red overalls lying on her stomach reading a book. The front said, "Wishing You a Storybook Birthday." The inside read "With Many Happy Endings." The mark on the back said it was from 1983. Not the image, but the actual greeting card. I wanted this to mean that it had been part of Quarter to Ten's floor stock for almost a quarter of a century. Turnstile full of them amongst the turbans, barrettes, and pomade, all patiently waiting to be sent.



Did you ever get a cabbage patch doll for your birthday?

I Can't Stand the Rain

It's all yellow ground now. Yellow ground and naked trees. For a while, too. Gettin' enough water but don't matter's too cold. Just brume and gloom. Sticks and a quilt of cotton over our heads.

Photography Show @ Austin Figurative Gallery

Flyer Final, originally uploaded by whitney lauren.

Can you make it?

If You're Going to San Francisco

The wind was keening as we were sleeping. Gale force and fast, it made for a shrill drone in my dreams. Then we heard Hailey's scream. The instrument room had flooded.

Cables and pedals were addressed first. The marumba was then moved to higher ground, its wood already warping. Amps were stacked. The bass drum went to the bathroom, but the high hats and cymbals withstood the rising waters, proudly. They would beat once more.

The landlady was called and her tenants scrambled to clean the dregs of the keg and cocktails. "Do you have a shop vac?" she said. "Do you have renter's insurance?"

The grocery store stayed open, though, despite the lack of power. We left our friends to deal with dampness and hoarded food for the storm. In the darkness customers walked slower, squinting at the shelves and using cell phones as light. Grocery employees had begun the task of moving refrigerated items to the beer cooler, which seemed to have a separate generator. No one looted. Everyone remained calm.

What's the weather doing?

Drink Champagne When We're Thirsty

Black Eyed Peas, originally uploaded by nep.

What's your New Year's Resolution?