telltale

smooth sheen
Originally uploaded by kristalynn.

a friend of mine ran up to me on the street. "i want to talk to you about your hate mail..."

i have to admit that it affected me. this e-comment basically called me out on being a failure for not having published anything. i walked around slightly insecure for a couple of days. i felt that all eyes on me were critical, and mocking.

"i bet it was someone you know - who has a grudge, and saw an opportunity to take it out on you," she said.

"no, it was random. just someone fucking around at work and left a nasty comment," said her husband.

"she, or he, works at the national research council."

they gasped, but it meant nothing.


a few nights ago i was having dinner with my best friend and some of his clients. he sometimes brings me out for entertainment value. he also knows that i know which champagne to order.

i ordered the veuve cliquot. vintage.

we were onto our second bottle when someone noticed a spill of something on their leg. that, and the champagne, prompted me to tell a story of a business trip i had taken a few days previous:

as i entered the "check baggage" line, i was stopped by a man sitting on a stool. he was apparently manning the entrance to the ropey maze.

"where are you going today?" he asked.

i told him.

he paused. "at what time?"

"4:30."

he looked down at my bag. "are you checking that bag?"

"yes."

he rubbed his chin. "do you have yourrrrrrr... mmmmm... boarding pass?"

"no, i didn't have time to print it. i was hoping to do all that in this line."

he nodded slowly. "you can do that."

"may i?" i asked.

he looked around the terminal. but he was looking really high, like where pigeons would fly. "there's no one in line today."

he was just making general comments at this point. i wondered if this was a new security measure.

he motioned for me to finally pass. "have a safe flight."

after i had checked my bags and passed through security, i went to the bathroom. i looked in the mirror and gasped. in my hair was an opaque and viscous substance. i gasped and threw my head under the sink. it rinsed out easily. it was water soluble.

as i was drying my matted hair, i noticed yet another patch of the substance. this time on my skirt.

gawd damn it... i muttered as i hiked up the skirt and threw it into the sink. i realized the man perched on the stool had kept me there with his questions so that he could laugh at the jizz-like substance in my hair.


back at the champagne table i was met with interest and wide eyes.

i shrugged, "…so i dunno what it was. but it was in my hair and on my skirt." i popped a jumbo shrimp in my mouth.

"was it jizz? did someone jizz on you?" asked my best friend.

"no..." i replied still baffled. "nobody jizzed on me that day."

my best friend and his clients at the table leaned in. my champagne glass was refilled.


they too were stymied about the substance in question. concerned, they propounded various emulsions and suspensions at me all evening long.

"had you considered that it was suntan lotion? were you in the sun earlier that day?"

"perhaps a bird got you? it was only last week that a bird shat plum on my shoulder."

i even got a call the next day from their boss's house in the country. in the middle of his yearly brunch.

"i was just telling sean about your jizz-o-gram and he thinks maybe you had just used an abundance of hair products. had you used that new stuff i brought you back from london?"

gawd bless them.

loserdom. it's all in the eye of the beholder.