Reanimated Lavender Granola Switchblade Nun rides again.

Monday, October 8, 2012

The Girl Who Liked Hemingway

I didn't win the pageant
because those bitches wouldn't know beauty if it beat them over their 'do's with a porch plank.

My Mediterranean sultriness was not what they were looking for;
them with their politeness and their narrow-lipped smiles holding back the churning reflux that their hearts produce.

They are not human.

As a baby, I was different.
I spoke within minutes, asking for a mirror before milk,
and sharing Portuguese brandy with my father in the library before the month was out.

Let others become checkers at Target.
Let others slave in the shamba under a broiling sun.
They do not have my sculptured cheekbones,
and so must scramble and struggle while I laze under an awning in a cafe,
accepting the dazzled worship of waiters named Jean-Guy.

But look, it hasn't been all roses and honey, just the same.
I stayed barefoot until I was twelve, by choice.
I whipped all the local boys,
and was the terror of the American compound.

I first considered pageants when I was caught siphoning gas from a diplomat's car.
The diplomat took me inside and stood with his back to me,gazing through his wife's sheer curtains at the stucco buildings across the street, and said,

"There are other things
you could be doing."

Soon I was shivering,
my arm dangling boneless over the edge of the dining room table,
smiling at the patterned copper ceiling.
I had still been in command of myself when he lost all his polish and said things to me that were not diplomatic, but rather,
the shouts of a drowning man finding shore.

So anyway,
these bitches looked at me critically, as if I were a steer at auction,
each of them a little complacent fat cask of petty.
I knew I couldn't win,
and my mind turned, as it always has,
toward ways to rain down destruction upon my enemies' heads.

I have a little French cahier
that I write down my dreams and plans in.
If the gendarmes ever find it, I'm so fucked.

But never mind.
The world of pageants plateaus early--
you're done at twenty, turned loose in the streets to blink big-eyed
at the onrushing autobus that will flatten you dead.
Does this sound like me?
Does it?

I am a girl without an umbrella,
because it never dares to rain on my perfect creamy shoulders.
I own no pearls,
but I have six different divining decks,
one for each day of the week, and then I go to Mass on Sunday.

I didn't win the pageant,
but I escaped to Algiers and met a man.
In the morning, we start out together for Kilimanjaro--
I shall be barefoot, in my element once more,
and McComber will have some sort of accident and leave everything to me.

Heft those trunks, bush guides,
I forgot my mirror and am keen to retrieve it
so that I may kiss my image as one would Cerberus,
if he were female
and as pretty as me.
_________

for Flipside's word list 15: Mediterranean, siphon, brandy, destruction, cafe, cahier, raincoat, narrow-lipped, barefoot, pearls, sculptured, mirror, critically, casks, plateau, politeness, awning, curtains, shivering and shamba. (words taken from Ernest Hemingway's "The Garden Of Eden")

Also linked to real Toads open link Monday.

And shared on 10/27/22 to Dverse OLN


 

38 comments:

  1. That is wonderful that you were able to put that together from Ernest Hemingway's words. I've been on a Hemingway kick this summer.

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  2. it had a definite Papa feel ... if Papa were a lesbian ;)

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  3. What a story to lose oneself in! I love this character's grasp of self - both the good and badness of her.
    I thought this a pivotal statement:
    The world of pageants plateaus early-
    one is done at twenty, turned loose in the streets to blink big-eyed
    at the onrushing autobus that will flatten you dead...

    I'm glad this girl had a Plan B, though the African continent may not be her best backdrop ever., being hot and squalid for the most part.

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  4. Agree with Daryl, there is a random angsty Hemingway-ness to the progression of this twisty narrative--but the writer I see most at work here is someone named Fireblossom, painting an idiosyncratic emotional portrait from the inside out, all the hidden exposed, all the exposed, celebrated. Too many good lines to quote, but especially liked 'kiss my image as one would Cerberus..' and '...complacent fat cask of petty...'

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  5. fantastic...love the raging river of a journey continuing here.

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  6. Holy crap...that was bad girl sexy....and I mean sexy. Grand, heavy unadulterated sigh.....

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  7. Oh, baby! "the shouts of a drowning man reaching shore"
    That is so perfect!
    Only you could write a delicious novel in twenty minutes. I'm full.
    *burp*
    Not even gonna mention the ben wa's. Nope. Too easy.
    But this girl is so easy to fall in love with as she exposes all in her path of conquer and destroy.
    And "a well lit cafe" is still my fave short story. Can't read it w/out a cig.
    I'll always hate faulkner for saying of ernie~"well, he never made anyone run for a dictionary"
    The bastard!
    ~rick

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  8. You have painted quite a fantastic character here Shay.....you should continue this on in a squal!

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  9. Yes, the pageant industry's idea of beauty is a narrow criterion where only the tall and gangly misfits from high school who went out and got boob jobs are considered worthy...

    I had to check to make sure "Ben-wa balls" wasn't one of Hemingway's words!

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  10. I'm already loving it. But I've just gotten here:

    "There are other things
    you could be doing."

    ... and I suspect things are about to get very interesting. ;)

    I love this: "my arm dangling boneless"

    "I had still been in command of myself when he lost all his polish and said things to me that were not diplomatic" ... Yup. This is getting pretty good.

    "If the gendarmes ever find it, I'm so fucked." ... Ha! I don't believe in journals for that very reason. :)

    "I shall be barefoot, in my element once more" ... Ah, there is hope. I'm glad of it.

    The fourth stanza is my favorite. Excellent storytelling, my dear. Thank you for writing. I knew you would have fun with these words.

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  11. Fantastic story, so well told. You could write novels!! You took those words to places even Hemingway would not have thought of!

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  12. Much story and also much depth we see in this character--great write!

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  13. I could read this over and over. I loved it so much that I'm speechless. LOL

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  14. digesting your opening trio of lines that I love savoring



    Aloha from Waikiki,
    Have a sweet week
    Comfort Spiral
    =^..^=

    > < } } ( ° >

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  15. There is an overflowing confidence to this writing. I think this is a thinly veiled autobiography. Well done, my friend.

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  16. How DO you dream it up!
    Unbelievable. This is the best justification for working with given words that I have come across.

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  17. This is some powerful and powerfully fine story telling.

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  18. Love that image, by the way. And now I'm craving a Coke.

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  19. Like Lynn, I've been reading Hemingway again lately. He wasn't this cool.

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  20. Oh, but youth and beauty is so fleeting a thing...

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  21. are you actually allowed to love yourself so much????

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  22. Wonderful character study of one who knew how to make sparks fly as well as ignite them.

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  23. Picked up a few 1st editions in Petoskey this summer of Hemingway's for $10. (don't think they knew they were first editions) Don't think his stories had this much zing, though. The Diplomat looking through the sheer curtains made my skin crawl... Powerful character study!

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  24. "They do not have my sculptured cheekbones, and so must scramble and struggle while I laze under an awning in a cafe, accepting the dazzled worship of waiters named Jean-Guy."
    This made me laugh, Shay.
    I've never dared try channeling someone as daring as Hemingway, for I am merely a mouse who used to be a bit of a tomboy, but you have excelled here. Love it!
    K

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  25. Wow. There is so much here to love, I cannot even pick a favorite line. What a likable hard@$$ this chick is. :)

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  26. gotta get those pelvic exercises in every day ~ are you sure it's safe to skip Sunday? {grin}

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  27. Now this was a story it really draws you in, now tell me there is more coming..

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  28. What a mesmerizing character sketch! I especially love this part; "I am a girl who will never need a raincoat, because it never dares to rain on my perfect creamy shoulders." 💘💘

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  29. Wow... I had never read this before, but all those comments takes me back to a history of writing. I was captivated by the confidence, but thinks maybe there is a danger in looking too much into the mirror.

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  30. the idea of this girl entering a pageant is what makes this story poem even more amusing - the narrative is excellent - pithy

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  31. WOW. What a story you have told Shay. I am constantly amazed at your writing. Thank you for joining in at dVerse OLN!

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  32. Absolutely fascinating, and wholly engaging Shay. This is you at the top o’ya game. Great flashback, thank you!

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  33. I loved it all, it's all splendid, but "each of them a little complacent fat cask of petty" is magnificent

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  34. "my arm dangling boneless over the edge of the dining room table,"

    Shay, I am, as always, left in awe of your poetry.

    ~David

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  35. This is just amazing I can say no more <3

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  36. "I am a girl without an umbrella": indeed she is. She doesn't seek shelter, even in her mirror, and danger or disaster mean nothing to her, she just keeps moving, from an American compound to Kilmanjaro, from one birthed identity to another. A restless commodity. Hemingway would have recognized her at once.

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  37. Be still my heart. I feel strongly for this narrator, reliable or not. I'd love to share an adventure (perhaps one longer than the diplomats) or at least a cool drink with her. Brava!

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