I am constantly putting things in my mouth. My sore, sad mouth. It has a ridge, my tooth. A sharp ridge where my tongue wanders to constantly. My 8 hour root canal, ended with a temporary filling that is torturing my pain loving tongue. I am not really complaining- stating facts. Write what you know, you know. My mouth busy devouring anything liquid or smooth enough to be swallowed not chewed. My mouth is much less adequate than my fingers, of late. Give me space to write and I seem to have something to say. Not so true if locked into conversation. I’ll leave my mouth to step one in the nourishment process, and allow my fingers to do the talking.
While I was in the dental chair and under the life-saving influence of nitrous….I wrote some things in the cover of my Patti smith book. This is what I wrote.
1. A dental patient’s worst enemy is her own empathetic tendencies.
2. We are wise wise women, we are giggling girls.
I was thinking I was really on to something. I stopped my dentist/friend and said I must have a pen. And I wrote first, what was so obvious to me- I was more worried about my dentists needs and feelings (is he tired yet? Is he hungry? Am I opening my mouth wide enough…I am so much work for him…blah blah blah), than my own. I think that is hilarious- when my guard is down I worry about those that don’t need any worry, and I hum and write down Ani Difranco songs. The muse for my 15 year old self. The beginning of my belief in being edgy. The other thing that permeated my whole self during this marathon dental day was my obsession with my Patti Smith book. I constantly spouted out new details about Patti and Robert. I would drift out and picture them, and then the images would shift into my friend rhea and I. I had a full days fantasy of living the crazy-artists-in-new York in the late 60s early 70s. Rhea and I would have done that time so right! Obviously Jimi Hendrix would have found us beautiful and endearing, and Janis would have wanted to hold hands and tell stories. Bob Dylan would’ve written songs about us and people would’ve been mad at us when we were too tired to do another drag show etc. etc. I am soaking up the hope and possibility of living the kind of color I never thought was for me to have. I am not disappointed to miss out on reckless drug use turned overdose, or over-sexual exploration turned disease. I am super happy to live in a world where safe sex and full presence are celebrated- at least by yours truly. I have always been amazed that I seem to have the most attractive friends, and now I am also amazed to have the most colorful, pain-enduring, full hearted-even when heart broken, hilarious, sarcastic and critical, art obsessed artist community in my dearests. I sat in that chair and thought, “now this is not as bad as poor Robert Mapplethorpe, with his abscessed gums and trench mouth. I have had this book for months and although those that know me well know that I have a habit of feeding myself the best books in doses(in hopes that they never end), the length of time I have taken with this one is appalling---well it was until I realized it hid itself, until I needed it most. Scared in the dentist chair and full of questions about my future. I needed my present life muse at that moment, and images of artists surviving and dying and losing and succeeding – all while choosing to create. Fighting to create. Thus begins my own fight. I hope you’ll remind me how much I love it.
