12
Notes: This musical installment is courtesy of The High Violets, Autour de Lucie, Ivy, Grizzly Bear, and the Voyage into Trance compilation.
Sorry it took so long between installments. Between an incredibly busy work week, my birthday, Easter, and getting sick with a cold, I am done for. I figured I would throw down a few more cards, including the reason for the story's title. Will try to post again soon, I promise.
[Mandella]
My funny Valentine
Sweet comic Valentine
You make me smile with my heart
Your looks are laughable, unphotographable
Yet you're my favorite work of art
My Funny Valentine, Lyrics by Rodgers and Hart, from the musical Babes in Arms
Jake's has an annual music, art, and poetry festival on Valentine's Day. This year's theme is The Comedy of Love. I came up with the idea that all the music entries could perform different versions of My Funny Valentine, and everyone would win something, even the worst performance. No one should be overlooked, especially on Valentine's Day.
Most of the art house folks I hang with also frequent the GLBT group at school. It's not like I hide my preference, but it never comes up in polite conversation with straight folks. They go on assuming that everyone is like them. I let them live that illusion, because it's my nature. You won't find me up on the pulpit, pounding home my message like Kat did at school. I'm always the one in the background, supporting everyone else and making sure things run smoothly.
But today was was about love, and I was nursing a wounded heart. I've tried not to dwell on it, because I don't harbor fantasies that Kat will suddenly see the error of her ways. Instead, I poured my heart into my art and poetry, and would take the stage to vent that frustration.
If Verona thought he could toss some nickels at me in exchange for sage advice, he was sadly mistaken. I was one of the lovelorn, not Padua's own Abby Van Buren. I might look and act like a doormat, but I was about to pull that rug out from under Spy Boy and Mata Hari.
*****
[SH]
I am thinking it's a sign
That the freckles in our eyes are mirror images
And when we kiss they're perfectly aligned
Such Great Heights, lyrics by the Postal Service
Keith was out toking behind his Mom's daycare van. I leaned out the window of Rachel's truck and said, "Dude, I need a favor."
"Aren't you tired of getting suspended, Verona?" Keith beamed at me as he shambled across the parking lot.
I always loved a day off, even when it meant picking up a paintbrush for the Kat cause. "Not that kind of favor."
"You need a dime or something? Because I have some primo weed."
"Not tonight, but I'll pay you ten to take over your shift for an hour."
Keith guffawed in disbelief. "Are you kidding? I'll need at least twenty to make it worth my while."
I dug into my pocket and hauled out the cash Rachel had pressed into my hand. "This is all I have."
He counted it once, then one more time to be sure. "Fourteen? I make three times that much in tips in an hour."
"You're a bus boy, not the head waiter."
He snickered. "You found me out. My life is over."
"Not yet, but it might be if you don't help me."
"What's in it for you?"
I held up my arms like I was giving praise to a deity. "The Dalai Mama."
That induced another laugh. "Hey, I can't stand in the way of true love."
"It's not like that."
"Really? I've known you since kindergarten, and it's always been chicks chasing you."
I couldn't argue with that. "And it gets real old."
"Oh, yeah? Then throw some of it my way."
"Will do, so, maybe you could sneak me in or something. I wouldn't want to get you in trouble."
Keith looked at the back door. "OK, but you go in, do your thing, and get the hell out."
I bumped fists with him. "Deal. And I'll throw in a few chippies for free."
