Little Star

Dear Nail.

Nothing gives me more pleasure now than writing through this sphere and calling you Linda. While showering post-bath I felt the urge to call you Linda. Tonight you are Linda.

I feel a fit of luminous. An entire fist of it the shape of a heart. Hello and welcome Digital Romanticism.

In Walgreens I stand and wait for the cashier to unlock the Sony mini dv tapes from the shelf. In line for check-out I see the unhappy souls in everybody waiting their turn.

In a bubble bath I mumble a hip-hop one hit wonder with lyrics that begin "Go mind ya own Bubble Biness.." I wade and sing feeling incredibly famous and alive. I am starring in the video for it with a gold miniskirt in a room full of bubbles with backup dancers doing their thing. I squeeze my little boobs to make cleavage and repeat "Go mind ya own Bubble Biness.." I do this for about 20 minutes. And get out.

Before brushing teeth I look at my beautiful face in the mirror and kiss it a few times. I kiss it the way I would kiss me if I were someone else. I imagine what it might feel like for someone else to kiss my face. They are twins. I am a twin of myself in the same way self-imposed failure works. But this time I do not see failure but something utterly beautiful and I bend over to dry my hair and am so grateful to the mystery of life. I know it is worth living just for the mystery of it, that we are loved by this mystery and that language is forbidden to say its name.

And now in bed on my luck.

Heart,
Clips