Day of Days

Vandaag is het de verjaardag van mijn liefje. Joehoe! Deze dag maak ik zelf al 34 jaar mee. Hoeveel het er in totaal zijn, laten we vandaag  in het midden. We vieren het vanavond op eigen terras in gezelschap van 13 vrienden, niet uitsluitend Nederlanders. Als jarige vindt zij dit getal een geluksgetal, ze is immers niet bijgelovig.

Maar naast jarig liefje is zij veel meer: levensmaatje, rots in de branding, stijfkop, mede-wereldreizigster (wereldwijf), tuinkabouter, bemoeial, CFO van de familie, atheïste, kilometervreter-op-skechers, criticaster, news junkie, eter van muizenhapjes, controlfreak, vleesbeest, André & Janny-lover (sowieso seniorenvoyeur), brokkenpiloot, oma-met-de-witte-huid, slaapkop, publieke omroepkijker, cookiemonster, wasvrouw, valszangeres, zuipschuit, goede manager (zolang dat maar niet thuis gebeurt).

Deze opsomming is niet uitputtend. Kortom: een veelzijdige vrouw, met wie het -doorgaans- fijn samenleven is.

¡Feliz cumpleaños, cariño!

 

Slip Your Mind 

I wanna be the thought that slips your mind
the thought that makes you come
to your senses

But I’m shy
so I’ll never tell you that
Instead I’ll say something like
“wanna hold hands sometime?
wanna come over to my house and watch tv?”
And I don’t have a tv
So you’d be left flipping the channels of me 
my breath on your neck like perfect reception
I’d tell you things like how I know
all your lies and deceptions have just been commercials
before the real show
And I’m a moody star
I’m a moody star 

But if you said glow 
I’d cut my soul into a million little pieces just to form constellations to light your way home
I’d hire little tiny gnomes 
to play the parts of dick Cheney and George Bush
so you could squish 'em between your toes and feed 'em to your cat
I’d love you like that
All political and shit 

Like the distance between my body and yours 
is the same distance that stretches from shore to shore 
from right to left 
from rich to poor
and we could fuck our way to one brilliant communist union

And I know fuck is a bad word
but it sounds so good
Good like flipping off the preacher whenever he forgets that Eve was Adam’s  teacher
‘Cause apples are fucking healthy, you patriarchial piece of shit

Now
Back to you
Your eyes are so 
well
I can’t remember if they are brown or blue
But you’re a really great dresser
I am too, but you are better
And I’m not looking for forever
I’m just looking for that one moment 
when your collar bone phones my mother at home and thanks her for giving birth to my breath
When the tides of your chest rise and fall on my shore
And I swear I can hear the sound of every name I was ever given and every life I lived before
Singing arias from the vocal chords of your pores 

And I’m more than sure
that you’re all wrong for me
but all right would mean we have a lot in common
and I’m not attracted to common things
I prefer we sing our tears
so we can save the water to drown our fears

And there's something like an ocean
in the motion of your fingertips
when they sweep your hair from your eyes
and you stare into mine
like you know I’m not an angel
But I used to be 

So I was thinking
maybe you’d wanna hold hands sometime
maybe you’d wanna come over to my house
and watch tv 

Andrea Gibson (1975)

In 2008 was de Amerikaanse Gibson de eerste winnares van de Women of the World Poetry Slam.