Life in the City...

It's sort of like the vibe you get from someone who escapes from a dysfunctional family and moves all the way across country to change her name from Sophie Ann to Sophia, then years later she has to go back home for Thanksgiving (her mom made her promise), and is filled with dread because she hates her family and she knows the holiday evening is going to end up with her and her mom in a screaming match at the dining room table about how her life is sooo fucked up because her mom didn't let her take ballet lessons when she was 5 years old and everybody said how talented and graceful she was (Damn it! She coulda been in Swan Fucking Lake!), after which she will run up the stairs to her old room (which is exactly the same way it was when she left 15 years ago), ransack her luggage for an airplane sample bottle of Smirnoff and a stale cigarette she knows is at the bottom of her purse (and thank God for putting it there!), lean her head out the window and puff away, careful to blow the smoke out, and when her mom knocks on the door 5 minutes later to see if she is okay, she fans the smoke and yells through the closed door,

"I'm fine mom. I'll be right down. I Just needed to grab my book to write down Cousin Tommy's new address in San Francisco".

Yeah, like she'll ever be visiting that schizophrenic homo...

Life in the City...
Copyright © 2001 Winifred Tracey