With Curiously Waning Trepidation, I Emerge
I took my tooth off today.
I have now officially graduated from my semi-sheltered roaring twenties.
This small decision seems monumental, and I am afraid to post the information and yet afraid to let the moment pass without documentation. It seems odd I would offer to help anyone carve vulnerabilities in my armor.
What would someone think - new or old, friend or stranger - what would happen to my possibly delusional air of 'sexiness' were I to write of how it stunk, my loose crown gathering god-knows-what beneath it, shoving it under my gum. Would they guess that I spoke with my hand covering my mouth because I could imagine people passing out from my conversation. Could I really write how I would catch a whiff of something putrid, then realize with shock and shame that it was coming from me. One day I thought I must have chewed on feces.
What do I do? No dental insurance. No money even for parking tickets, quickly adding up to a rent-sized column in the budget (that's rich, me with a budget). So I just pulled it off, and left it off. Fuck it. The odor is gone, my tongue has a new playground, and I have quickly and deftly acquired a new method of taking in liquid, curling my tongue in a protective bypass funnel so that the fresh nerves stay quiet.
I have entered a new room. I can feel initiation in a cool breeze through my molars. The threshhold is covered with flakes of vanity; I stop for a moment in the doorway to decide which pieces I'm willing to drop, or to accept that some must fall away. I stand a while longer adjusting, the missing flecks show that there had once been a whole suit I hadn't known I was wearing. Suddenly I can see all of the things I've left unmended, all the loose strings of my life that have been flapping as I sped by. If I trip now that I am slowing, it is only the nature of strings and motion. [It has always been my job to measure the thread.]
Breathing through my mouth in East Bay January pierces pain receptors, and I realize I'm gonna have to put the damn thing back in so all my other teeth dont rush over there to see what's going on. But, at this moment, I'm wearing my nametag, I'm in a new club.
We do what we got to.
I have now officially graduated from my semi-sheltered roaring twenties.
This small decision seems monumental, and I am afraid to post the information and yet afraid to let the moment pass without documentation. It seems odd I would offer to help anyone carve vulnerabilities in my armor.
What would someone think - new or old, friend or stranger - what would happen to my possibly delusional air of 'sexiness' were I to write of how it stunk, my loose crown gathering god-knows-what beneath it, shoving it under my gum. Would they guess that I spoke with my hand covering my mouth because I could imagine people passing out from my conversation. Could I really write how I would catch a whiff of something putrid, then realize with shock and shame that it was coming from me. One day I thought I must have chewed on feces.
What do I do? No dental insurance. No money even for parking tickets, quickly adding up to a rent-sized column in the budget (that's rich, me with a budget). So I just pulled it off, and left it off. Fuck it. The odor is gone, my tongue has a new playground, and I have quickly and deftly acquired a new method of taking in liquid, curling my tongue in a protective bypass funnel so that the fresh nerves stay quiet.
I have entered a new room. I can feel initiation in a cool breeze through my molars. The threshhold is covered with flakes of vanity; I stop for a moment in the doorway to decide which pieces I'm willing to drop, or to accept that some must fall away. I stand a while longer adjusting, the missing flecks show that there had once been a whole suit I hadn't known I was wearing. Suddenly I can see all of the things I've left unmended, all the loose strings of my life that have been flapping as I sped by. If I trip now that I am slowing, it is only the nature of strings and motion. [It has always been my job to measure the thread.]
Breathing through my mouth in East Bay January pierces pain receptors, and I realize I'm gonna have to put the damn thing back in so all my other teeth dont rush over there to see what's going on. But, at this moment, I'm wearing my nametag, I'm in a new club.
We do what we got to.
posted by greenthnkng @ 4:12 PM
2 Comments:
At 9:35 PM,
Michelle Puckett said…
"If I trip now that I am slowing, it is only the nature of strings and motion." fuck, shells. this was brave and bold and chin-high royalty. when u spoke of the crown, i imagined 2 kinds. ah, the body and its endless smells, it's endless dying. i loved sitting up this close to u. xo.
At 12:49 AM,
Meg Day said…
you are one braveass motherfucker, shelly gomez. i raise my glass. xo
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