today was a drippy drippy day. drippy when u wake up cotton sheet pasted on your skin, drippy when u in dance class, drippy when u on the bus, drippy when u sit so still still as you can as still can be, drippy after the fourth shower of this drippy old day. arms dripping with sweat faster than i can wipe away. clothes dripping and drooping out of shape no matter how much care and starch you take. folks looking my way out of they drippy faces with drippy eyes.
i know, i know, i should just find some other pants to wear. every time i wear these jeans with the tear at the knee, these perfect comfortable jeans, everyone is looking at it like, what is with that? the ladies in dance class all a-staring in confusion, tho pishi hastened to explain that no no no, in USA the tear makes it cost more, more valuable, i saw it at the Old Navy, this is true. or this man in the bus today who was staring at the itsy bit of exposed flesh at my knee as if it were the whole of my legs were exposed, as if one could extrapolate from this hint-less innocuous island of pale skin what the rest looked like. regions scandalous and unknown. i had to hide it behind a bag.
with no rain in sight and all these proscriptions on clothing, i am reaching a potential crisis point. if either 1. light short skirts to let in the breeze sweet summer dresses and low-coverage shirts don’t become abruptly and unexpectedly socially acceptable, or 2. the monsoons don’t come soooooon, i might just melt away like the wicked witch of the west.
cooking away in humidity and heat. so steamy that coming out of an air-conditioned shop into the (it-should-have-been-cooler-but-wasn’t) early evening air my glasses fogged up so thick i couldn’t see thru them and almost got hit by a car. uff.
i know, i know, i should just find some other pants to wear. every time i wear these jeans with the tear at the knee, these perfect comfortable jeans, everyone is looking at it like, what is with that? the ladies in dance class all a-staring in confusion, tho pishi hastened to explain that no no no, in USA the tear makes it cost more, more valuable, i saw it at the Old Navy, this is true. or this man in the bus today who was staring at the itsy bit of exposed flesh at my knee as if it were the whole of my legs were exposed, as if one could extrapolate from this hint-less innocuous island of pale skin what the rest looked like. regions scandalous and unknown. i had to hide it behind a bag.
with no rain in sight and all these proscriptions on clothing, i am reaching a potential crisis point. if either 1. light short skirts to let in the breeze sweet summer dresses and low-coverage shirts don’t become abruptly and unexpectedly socially acceptable, or 2. the monsoons don’t come soooooon, i might just melt away like the wicked witch of the west.
cooking away in humidity and heat. so steamy that coming out of an air-conditioned shop into the (it-should-have-been-cooler-but-wasn’t) early evening air my glasses fogged up so thick i couldn’t see thru them and almost got hit by a car. uff.
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