There is absolutely no better month than the month of May. I adore everything about it. The weather is perfect (even if you live in New England). Right now the smell of my neighbor's lilac tree is permeating into my room and after being sick for the last few days I find myself unbelievably thankful I don't have allergies to such things. It truly is making me feel better. It isn't just the lilacs that make the wind smell so sweet in May. There's such an innocence to the winds of May. After the first real snow storm of the winter season, there is always this rough, piercing "cold" smell to the wind, reeking of accusations. Everyone complains about the snow and the cold, but the wind comes out unsympathetically to say, "What? You've left me long ago." Mother nature reminding us we've turned our back on her first, so why should she be merciful. She's right, I play Dinner at Eight, by Rufus Wainwright when this winds first blows. She gave us life, she can easily take it away.
The other day I was ringing a mother and daughter through at my work. The mom had one of those phones with the pens attached to it and she was using it. The daughter (around 11) asked her mother what was on the agenda for "John's Party" this Saturday. Now look, sometimes people find silence awkward so they just choose a topic to talk about in front of people. I do it, we all do it. The mom was doing whatever and that left the girl and me . . . some people can appreciate moments of silence, and some can't. I teeter between liking them and hating them myself. The mother looked up from the phone and said, "I emailed you about it yesterday, didn't you get the email."
"Well, yeah Ma, I just . . . "
"Never mind, I'm emailing it to you again."
And that was that. The girl pulled one of the Twilight books down from the display next to my register and opened to the middle of the book and appeared to be reading.
"Oh, God, Molly . . . I'd wish you'd stop it with those horrid books. They're pure rubbish . . . "
That's it. I snapped and cut the woman off, speaking directly to the girl,
"Are you on team Edward or Jacob? Don't spoil anything for me, I just finished the first book and haven't started New Moon."
"Should I swipe my card now?" I just ignored the mom, and kept ringing, folding, bagging and talking Twilight. And just a side note, don't fucking ask, just always wait until the end assholes.
"Excuse me, should I swipe my card now?" A few minutes ago you were ignoring both my existence and the existence of your daughter so . . . suck it.
People are not finding the balance between technology and mother nature . . . so to say. We keep taking from one and throwing all our best into the other, for what? One of my favorite's from Shel Silverstein is The Giving Tree. In the end, I suppose she'll always be there come May, as forgiving as ever, but . . . I don't know if that makes what we do to her in the interim alright.
Other things that made me happy,
a full ballet barre in the kitchen
chanel film
fat cats in baby carriages and hearts in mocha swirl
not enough night
esopus magazine
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