a million moths.

carmenita road and telegraph road. the intersection of my first kiss. junior high circa 1993. i can almost smell jessie monarez’s salty fritos breath each time i drive past. 


there he was. a player in the making across the street from shari’s restaurant and el pollo loco. big, pointy nose, caramel eyes, dickie cholo pants so baggy he could’ve fit three versions of himself — diving toward my face like a clumsy camel. 

” it’s easy. you just go round and round,” one cousin had told me. “or in and out,” another said. i didn’t get it. what if there wasn’t enough room inside our mouths? what if my teeth got in the way? what if i lost my place? and where does the saliva go? and what if i can’t breathe? i watched movies and stopped at the kissing scenes. pause, observe, rewind. practice. pause, observe, rewind. practice. round and round. in and out.  

i dreaded the moment.

“what’s wrong?” i remember jessie asking me. “how come you won’t open your mouth?”

“which one are you gonna do?” i said. 

“what?”

“round and round? or in and out?”

“what are you talking about? have you never kissed a guy before?”

(long awkward pause as i avoided jessie’s judgmental eyes and imagined what everyone would whisper at school if they found out a boy had never wanted to kiss me before)

“i’ve kissed lots of guys,” i remember telling him. 

“then open your mouth,” he said.

and so i did. and it was gross. and i hate fritos.

i found this and this and also this little gold mine in cyberspace last night. am seriously losing my mind after sleeping less than three hours, two days in a row. me + < than 8 hours of sleep = cranky, grouchy, evil raccoon. but then again, there is a bright side.

#7 on the list, i’m coming after you. 

and because i lovelovelove the rhythm of repetition in writing (and any mention of sunbeams), here’s a tom wolfe snipet that made me smile as i read it — over and over (and over) again:

ten o’clock sunday morning in the hills of north carolina. cars, miles of cars, in every direction, millions of cars, pastel cars, aqua green, aqua blue, aqua beige, aqua buff, aqua dawn, aqua dusk, aqua aqua, aqua malacca, malacca lacquer, cloud lavender, assassin pink, rake-a-cheek raspberry. nude strand coral, honest thrill orange, and baby fawn lust cream-colored cars are all going to the stock-car races, and that old mothering north carolina sun keeps exploding off the windshields. 

– the last american hero is junior johnson. yes!