Gaps, patches and in-betweens

It was invigorating in the midst of half-naked bodies. The atmosphere exuded power. The good kind, stemming from years of being restricted and forbidden.  It reminded me of my 20s, backstage, in a dressing room of a bar with pole dancing. The feeling was excited, so many colors and the air energized as the women bustled about with make-up and shiny clothes, or lack of it, preparing for a performance.  The difference with today’s was the sense of empowerment.  At the bar they had to do it for work, lack of opportunity, what they thought was best for them at that time. Sometimes they would have to sit with customers and order a drink. Hopefully, they enjoyed it.  Today, they wanted to show skin. They expressed themselves on the pole for themselves. Paying for the chance to do so. It was their choice. It was the usual aerial pole dance studio.  I was just the mom waiting for the daughter with a moment of a spectacular feeling. "I am an X in an indeterminate equatio...

It landed on my lips with the thickness of lard then I tasted the unpleasant surprise sweetness that  should never be for noodle soup. I bit through a-few-minutes-to-al-dente noodles. Even chili and vinegar could not fix the strange taste. But it was not just the taste.  It was also the feeling.  There was no joy  of eating, of tasting, of flavors. Gulping down the last of the pieces of spring onion leaves and shred of a chicken,  I stare at the chicken foot that was left in my bowl.  The almost cold soup felt like it was served by a widower at a funeral,  lost, now that the reason for his being has gone. Or being alone, in solitude in a crowd.  Or someone solving the mysterious murder of someone no one cares about.  Per Alanis Morisette, “it’s meeting the man of your dreams then meeting his beautiful wife.”  What is the point?  I wanted to complain to my daughter who was obediently finishing hers.  It took all I had to keep si...