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I keep my nose pressed up against the pane-glass window of American culture, but if someone were to come to the window and invite me in? I'd answer, "Oh, no thanks, I've seen enough."*Thanks to Gary Gnu for seeing me as the beautiful lady in the flowing gown with a sort of rainbow sash (no, I'm not a lesbian; I'm asexual and pretty much dislike both men and women; I've evolved beyond the whole gender thing). And I don't know what that head piece is that she wears, but these days the silk, paisley scarves I used to wear have morphed into knit hats with pompoms on top. I've lost over 40 lbs. so my jeans hang off me in a Skeletor-chic sort of way, I pair them with combat boots, unlaced. Heavy on the eye makeup, which I don't do anymore either because the kohl runs into the crevasses around the eyes and ends up on my cheeks. The sheath of wheat; yeah, I can see the symbolism since I've fed a lot of starving artists, but it traditionally symbolizes the harvesting of the soul. (I hope G/nu isn't going psychic or latter-day prophet on me). Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I'm beholden to Gary for seeing whatever beauty remains beneath this weather-beaten, pressure-cooker- facade that once walked gracefully, but now trudges onward toward journey's end, tripping over boot laces. But other than that, yeah, she's totally me, Gary. And is that the pelt of Sasquatch she stands upon? Well, I can only hope he died of natural causes.
