‘God! She’s mean,’ Holly whispered to me as we stood en barre facing the wall.
We had a substitute instructor that evening and Holly’s form was not making this prima ballerina, of days gone by, very happy We had signed up for the basic adult ballet class, hadn’t we? (more…)
When I tell people that I play roller derby, everyone always wants to know what it feels like to hit a bitch, knock her down, and hear the resounding thud of her knee pads (and maybe her face) as they hit the floor behind me. They want to have an image of me smugly skating past, short skirt whipping in the wind of my own daredevil speed, face twisted in a delighted smirk. (more…)
On April 20, 2010, it happened. A BP oil rig in 5,000 feet of water off the MS-LA coast exploded, killed 11 people and has leaked at least 5,000 barrels of crude into the ocean every day since. The sort of spill that Gulf Senators and industry execs repeatedly promised could never happen actually did. Technology had apparently become so advanced that accidents couldn’t happen anymore. This particular rig was at the technological frontier. But, the truth is, accidents do happen and we forgive them, don’t we? We certainly forgive our friends and our children and ourselves. We’re only human right? No use crying over spilled crude. (more…)
I used to like to play ‘Friends’ by the Police, the B-side of ‘Da D Do Do Da Da Da Da’, on the jukebox at the Lion’s Share Restaurant at Southland Mall in Houma, LA, circa 1984. The song is funny. I think it is guitarist Andy Summers growling ‘I like to eat my friends and make no bones about it’ over a lurching half-ass blues riff. It was an ironic thing to hear in a restaurant and may my young brain appreciated the frisson of playing a song name ‘Friends’ that will win me none. (more…)