disclaimer

Monday, October 04, 2005

disclaimer

after a delicious, sybaritic weekend (which was as close as i'd ever get to a honeymoon), i came back to earth glowing and tousled. my middle was covered with a heat rash. my feet tingled from one too many foot rubs. and the rose-colored glasses, which i thought i had shed forever, were suddenly back to haunt me with warm and fuzzy images of utopia.

sarcasm, once the source of my presupposed brilliance and the main fodder for my writing, had seemingly evaporated from my list of soulfood. and now that tenderness has taken its place, i feel like a denizen of the couch.

HYPOTHETICAL SHRINK: what are you thinking?

ME: i'm thinking i'm in love.

HYPOTHETICAL SHRINK: tell me what it's like.

ME: well, it's the way the sunset would look when you're 15 stories above the ground. and it's mostly the smell of white sheets—rumpled, but clean. and it has that wonderful taste on the tongue, like warm banana-caramel crepes topped with cold vanilla ice cream. and it has that bluesy sound to it, like billie holiday before she went to seed.

HYPOTHETICAL SHRINK: well, that's all very nice. but your 50 minutes are up.

i am afraid. now that i seem incapable of mockery, will i turn out a bearded gnome like james lipton, reading niceties off blue note cards?

being in love is being an idiot. i'm blaming all this on s..., of course.