Thoughts

constellations, gravity, small acts of violence.

People were more apt to roam bra-less in the 80s. And in the 90s. And in Robert Altman films.

Have you negotiated your various competing identities today? I haven't.

A woman stopped me this morning and asked where I got my necklace.

"From my mother," I said.

"Where did she get it?" she asked, relentless.

"From my grandmother," I said.

"I hate you," she offered. She was one of those overly verbal/overly opinionated/overly loud types. The types I can never decide whether I like or not.

"I always look at your jewelry in the elevator," she said.

This made me feel strange. Like she was telling me that she stares at my breasts in the elevator.

In an English class once, there was a girl with perfect breasts. Not big, but perfectly proportioned. Everyone looked at them. Even just to pass time, while we were bored with the lecture.

I often feel strange, at the things people say or write. Or say. Or say in writing.

But I do nothing, just smile.