I was talking to my mom today and my birthday came up. It’s in a few days. She told me that even if I’m not around, she always has a nice dinner in celebration. After all, it was a pretty big day for her too. On my mom’s birthday, she baked a lemon lavendar cake and brought it to school. Everyone was giving me dirty looks, like I was a bad daughter who came to visit my mom on her birthday and she still had to bake her own birthday cake. But we’d fed her cake (okay, pies) the day before. Lack of cake was not an issue. No, my mother just feels that out of all the people in the world, she is the person most glad that she was born and therefore she baked herself a cake while I was sleeping out in my van.
Today is Davka’s birthday. Davka and I have spent hours standing and rocking on a foot fetish client together. It’s also Davka’s sister Nina’s birthday. Nina and I have stood on the same guy together, and she told me I looked like a woman with a fruit basket on her head, and I told her she looked like a woman harvesting silver queen corn.
Davka wrote a poem a couple days ago. I don’t know how to describe it. It’s beautiful and horrible and true and important:
last night in the mirror,
two faces fighting for space,
my friend. fag. his fierce self-expression
in the dead christ dangling down his chest
under glitter eyeshadow- our two faces
fight for space- i can’t figure out
what he is to me
as he powders my nose. I can’t laugh,
my breath is caught
in the soft, cold touch
of sponges on skin, he’s breathing on my neck,
and i’m smiling, i love him in every little girl
You hafta click to read the rest.
BTW, it’s also about to be Hat-ma’s birthday. All the best of us have our birthdays together. 😀