She says, “Hello,” in a way that tells me she would be an excellent mother. and if the price is right she'll mother me, tonight. She reminds me of Melanie Griffith in Milk Money, which apparently only I have ever seen because no one else admits to having seen it whenever I bring it up in conversation.
I was raised religious so I’ve seen a lot of movies with straighten up and fly right undercurrents. The Butter Cream Gang, Flying Purple People Eater and The Stand all come to mind. Movies where prostitutes turn away from their life of debauchery and embrace the glow of motherhood are a particular favorite. This is especially true if the kids are someone else’s. It’s very Old Testament. OT for the those down with the JC. Ruth, come into my tent and rear my children. Also, chased by Mafia Men.
I feel momentarily transfixed as Melanie Griffmeth caramels her mouth at me, “Do you have seventy-five cents?”
“Someone must have taught you how to talk that way,” I think. “I bet your mother taught you how to talk that way. Where do you come from? Some basin state? Where you grew up did your house stand alone in the cornfield, a beautiful white glyph against punishing blue sky?”
Imagine your mother’s bright eyes and soft hands, face of a warm pie. It put you a step above the others, able to sweetie your way out.
I don’t understand why they have a wikipedia entry for Meth Face but not for the way Melanie Griffith talks. I think they have ones about basin housewives putting spoonfuls of powdered meth in their coffee for a blue morning pick me up.
I have been vomiting every night for days. I am unsure if I can just crest this and move ahead or if this is the sort of pain that only stops when I give up. Remind me to tell you about The Burning Boy Gang sometime.