Open Writing

How does that go? I like New York in June, how about you? From 'Babes on Broadway' it was. I like a Gershwin tune, how about you? Porter plugging Gershwin? That's class. Holding hands at the movie show … vintage 1941 … when all the lights are low … a Garland, Rooney duo … may not be new … still spunky and chipper, goodonya, Mick … but I like it, how about you? Personally, I prefer Porter because I like lyrics that rattle my brain. Miss Otis Regrets She's Unable to Lunch Today, Madam. She breaks me up, that Ms. Otis.

I like a fireside when a storm is due. Me, too. I like fogs that linger, noses that wrinkle, roses that blowse, and teen-agers any which way but overnight. I like a smile from across the room, for no reason. More so, a wink. I like the blues when I'm happy; I like the blues when I'm sad. I like to write. I like not to write. I like to watch eyes. I like potato chips, moonlight and motor trips. I like tomato soup, rainbows and boats. I like scat by Louie and Ella. I like 'all that jazz' with a passion (except big bands.) And fusion. Fusion leaves me totally cold. A Cole Porter phase? I get such a kick out of him. How about you?

I'm mad about good books, can't get my fill. Give me Haruki Murakami, David Mitchell, Margaret Atwood, Joseph Campbell, Alan Watts, Chekhov, Flaubert, and a desert island. Big island? Carver, Krakauer, Dickinson, O'Connor. A splash of Dave Barry, David Sedaris, Calvin Trillin and Dr. Seuss. What am I thinking? Deluge not splash. I like glib, funny guys. And Franklin Roos'velt's looks give me a thrill. Can't agree that they do. I'd slide in Sinatra. How about you?

I like Jack Benny's jokes, to a degree. Not quite my cup of tea either, although he did do a double take to die for. What makes me laugh? Not some sap slipping on a banana peel (although on a really bad day that just might do it). A Steven Wright bumper sticker giggles me through gridlock.

EVERYONE HAS A PHOTOGRAPHIC MEMORY; SOME JUST DON'T HAVE FILM.
42.7% OF ALL STATISTICS ARE MADE UP ON THE SPOT.
WHEN EVERYTHING IS COMING YOUR WAY, YOU'RE IN THE WRONG LANE.

Humorists from the past, Mark Twain; the present, Ian Frazier; the future, Andy, my grandson. I like incongruity, understatement, wit, quips, allusions, and irony, even on pancakes. I like the common folks, that includes me. Me? I like Google (hey, it's the best free game in space) and crossword puzzles, only on Sunday. The Sunday puzzle in the New York Times, to be specific. (It takes me all week and I still have more holes than a dart board.) I like lavender fresh, dry, sprinkled or sudsy: any which way but smoked. I like playing bridge all afternoon and then unroll in a lap pool. How about you?

I like to window shop on 5th Avenue. Not for me. I frequent the 75% off rack at back of the shop in the mall, the rack you can't see from the sidewalk. I like black, gray, navy and beige, and white, for a fling. No plaids, no flowers, no lace, no bling. I like banana splits, late supper at the Ritz. I like to think when I drive and drive until I don't want to think any more. I like quiet when I want quiet. I like wooden beads and straight hair and calamari, a whole plate of rings just for me. I like figure skating on television. Not namby pamby exhibitions, but skater alone against ice (figuratively speaking, one hopes) and I like soccer. So everyone says soccer is boring because there's a score hardly ever. Don't they know less is more? That's my mantra. One of them. I have scads.

I like babies when they begin to chuckle and coo. How about you? Much more than like, I adore. It's delightful, it's delicious, it's delovely. It's him, again. How about more? No room for crabbing, weaving, lunching, staying up late, verrry dry, bubbly wine, thyme, lattés (tall, single, skinny, lots of foam but no biscotti, thank you) and sandals? Why? It's just one of those things?

HOW DO YOU TELL WHEN YOU'RE OUT OF INVISIBLE INK?

I think I am. How about …

© Gloria MacKay

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Gloria edits Bonzer magazine. Please visit www.bonzer.org.au