Musings
an Online Journal of Sorts
By Alyce Wilson
Feb. 27, 2003: Getting Personal
In the Philadelphia City Paper, there's a section called "I Love You, I Hate You," where readers can send in free ads aimed at people they may or may not know.
While going through a stack of papers recently, I stumbled across this section and was immediately fascinated.
Most of the ads fall into three categories: sappy notes to loved ones, vitriolic notes to enemies and/or coworkers, and wistful notes to interesting strangers (sample: "Remember me? We met on Friday at Jefferson E.R. around 7:15 p.m. You: Scratched eye. Me: Injured feet.")
I had great fun reading through these ads and letting my imagination fill in the stories.
"How complete I was, nothing calling, nothing that divulged me; my stillness was like a stone over which the brook makes its murmuring. But now in these spring weeks, something has slowly broken me off from the dark unconscious year. Something has given my poor warm life into the hand of someone random who doesn't know what even yesterday I was."
This, I imagine, is a frail would-be poet who hangs out in a coffee shop all day and sketches in his artist's notebook. He wears mostly black and believes someday a movie will be made about him. One day, he gets dragged to a Philadelphia Eagles game and unexpectedly meets a perky woman. They throw hardened marshmallows onto the field together. Love blossoms.
"I feel like an ermine that wants to cuddle next to the childhood scar on your chest."
A full-figured woman who longs to be a small, protected little girl finds herself alone in the big city. Looking for a father figure, she develops a crush on the guy who installs her carpet. He wears a blue polo shirt, and through the open "V" she sees his furry chest, as well as a snaky white scar.
"It has come to our attention that you shun your shower. There is nothing to fear in there. Shampoo is your friend. Your head has its own ecosystem & is in fact producing enough oil to make drilling in Alaska unnecessary. Either turn over your petroleum products to the United States Government or be cleaned! From: the Anti-Pretension Squad."
A group of college students, who have been cramming for midterms, get tired of their buddy's lax hygiene habits and try to shame him into shaping up. "Hey, maybe if we make it funny he won't be as upset," they think. The unfortunate aftermath: the offended friend decides to make them suffer by never showering again.
"I kicked u to the curb when u took my van & wrecked my machine in the process, all because the devil was calling."
This passage fascinates me not only because of the sordid story it alludes to, but also because of the mixed metaphors. Are the van and the machine the same thing? Or was it all a plot from a teen horror flick?
The teens are running from Demon Jack, who has the ability to transform into objects. They're at a rest stop and the girl freaks out, convinced the guy's snow cone is Demon Jack. She takes off in the van before the guy can get back in. While driving, she glances over at his empty seat and hears what sounds like Demon Jack. She screeches to a halt, takes the offending object and smashes it to bits, only to discover it's a radio. The boy catches up with her and, upset about the incident, kicks her shins until she hobbles to the curb. He gets in and drives away.
"We love you more than Jesus but less than gummy worms."
A group of teenage girls who have known each other so long that they communicate with in-jokes are remembering the good times. Their friend Maria, a good Catholic girl, once made everyone giggle by declaring that she loved her boyfriend "more than Jesus."
"Yes, but do you love him as much as gummy worms?" Roberta asked, the rebel who had to stay in detention for wearing pink socks to school.
"No," Maria said, and they were all reduced to fits of laughter. Another in-joke was born.
"Let's lallygag the day away, wriggle & oscillate our winky parts some more & in no time we'll be gazin' up from shallow center field all over again... from there on out, it'll be rolling meadows & blue skies... yeah, blue skies."
A lover longs for the heady summer days when he and his beloved wasted a day away in a forgotten corner of a disused baseball field in a park they love. The backstop had gaping holes in it, and the diamond was overgrown, the chalk lines blurry. They found a tennis ball on the way there and tossed it around, ran the bases, tagged each other out, and collapsed in center field.
He's struggling to learn the guitar and wants to be the next Bruce Springfield. As far as she's concerned, he already is.
Moral:
Nothing quite beats imaginary people watching.
Copyright 2003 by Alyce Wilson
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