Tuesday, June 12, 2007













Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair.

Supposedly, my mother was pregnant with me when she felt a deadly crave for rapunzel. Or Valerianella locusta, also known as corn salad, mache, lamb's lettuce, field salad, Feldsalat in Germany, Nuesslisalat in Switzerland, or Vogerlsalat in Austria. Father trespassed into a witch’s garden to fetch some and the third time was a charm. She caught him red-handed. Or should I say, rapunzel-handed? Either way, the old man readily promised his unborn child in exchange for his reputation. That’s how they came to pick my name. Personally, I think it could have been better, but I’m nonetheless happy it’s not corn salad.

I had been living with tante Gothel for 12 years, a happy time of childhood play with spiders and snakes, when the old shrew locked me up in the tower. A tower in the middle of the forest. Not very entertaining, I’m afraid. No stairs, no door. One room, one window. One girl. What was there to do besides growing hair? Did I mention no scissors? Every time she wanted to drop by, tante had to first get up. Up the tower. So she would ask me to let down my hair, which I did, and then climb the locks. No, it didn’t hurt.

One day, I was combing my hair, singing my heart out (Dave Matthews Band’s Rapunzel), when I heard a deep voice calling me and asking me to let down my hair. I rushed to the window, you can imagine, and threw the mane out. Thirty minutes and several indecent imprecations later, Prince Charming was up in my room. I had never needed, nor wanted him, but since he was there, and looking handsome too, I shrugged and answered ‘Why not?’ to his proposal of friendship, sex and marriage.

That moment on, he would come every night. Many gay moments did we share until a slip of tongue gave me away in front of tante Gothel. I can’t tell whether it was my asking why my dress was getting tight around my belly or why Prince Charming seemed lighter than her when he climbed my hair, but she burst into a fit. In anger, Dame Gothel cut short my braided hair and cast me out into the wilderness. Figures there had been a way in and out by means of a stair, but the wench enjoyed pulling my hair.

I soon gave birth to twins, the apples of my eyes. Sure, life wasn’t easy in the forest, with no food, shelter or change, but it was bearable at the thought that my prince would look for me. Had I known he had become blind, I wouldn’t have been so optimistic. However, my destiny wasn’t to be tragic, so we were soon reunited, and lived happily ever after. Until he got fat.

Wednesday, June 6, 2007

vis


i dreamt i was being dismembered. part by part, my limbs were being torn.

i opened my eyes in horror.

everything around me reminded me of you.

i closed my eyes in despair.

Friday, June 1, 2007

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it's not like she didn't like love. she didn't feel funny about it either, she didn't. she just didn't believe in it. some claimed it had once existed, but the whole story about a man and a woman caring about each other in so many ways as love was supposed to include seemed just too far-fetched.

sometimes, she allowed herself to daydream about it, but reality would then immediately take its toll in shuddering and eye rolling currency. she knew love was overrated anyway. not to mention long extinct. *if* it had ever been real.

she’d heard people talk about it, but, like mammoths, it had eluded her all her life. so, like them, it could only remain as traces frozen into blocks of ice down at the south pole. if at all.