End of the Summer Bluez

So I have no money left, have applied for a million jobs in the past month with no responses, and am saddled with a non-paying assignment to review the work of a very established and prolific poet whose work I’ve never really read before and I fear is over my head.  FML!  White Girl Problems!  All other funny blogs!  And now I’m watching Jesus Camp, so I must be a glutton for punishment.  Here’s one person who can always make me giggle:

A stroke of genius.  I decide to be Degas for a day.  Edgar Degas.  Why Degas? says a pesky at the back of my head.  Well, why not Degas?  Pourquoi pas Degas?  Maybe the prismatic bars of color on my ceiling have inspired me.  Maybe the creamy white light spreading on my walls has moved me.  Maybe it’s all this cheap French wine I been drinking.  Anyway I don’t have to explain myself.  Yes!  Today, I will be Edgar Degas! –– Is it Edgar or Edouard?  Okay, so I don’t know much about Degas.  Let’s see.  Dead, French, impressionist painter of, what, jockeys, ballerinas, flowers, that kinda thing.  And okay granted, I’m not French, dead or a painter of any kind.  Not a lotta ground.  And yet, and yet –– are Degas and I not united by our shared humanity?  By our common need for love, coffee, and deodorant? … (We hear the sound of a shower.)  In the shower, it feels strange, lathering an immortal.  What’s even stranger, the immortal is lathering back.  How did I become such a genius?  I, who flunked wood shop in high school!  Was it my traumatic childhood?  There was Uncle Stosh’s unfortunate party trick with the parakeet.  Ouch. Well something must’ve happened.  Because now I’m great.  I’m brilliant.  My name will live forever!  (He considers this for a second.)  Whoo. Wow.  This is too big for even me to contemplate.  I go out into the world with dry cleaning.

~ from “Degas, C’est Moi” by David Ives

Tomorrow I will be Joan Didion!

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