marylyda-blog

[marylyda-blog]

The Adventures of She

Casino Shuffle                                              

Ode to the little, gambling, old women. To the shrunken, old ladies that can no longer walk, instead merely shuffling, scooting across the slick walkways between the carpeted spots, trying to 7-7-7 their way into heaven. To the old men with tube socks stretched up to the knee with sandals and fanny packs. To their large-bellied wives with even bigger frowns impaled by burning cigarettes. To the pretty waitress who’s worked every Saturday night for the last 25 years, inhaling lungful after lungful of the stale, smoky optimism of a card full of points to be used at the 2-star restaurant masqueraded as a 5-star. To the $6 piece of pizza and the free mini bottle of water.

Jutting up from the sandy riverfront sits this lighthouse of adventure, spacious parking garage attached. Sparkling lights of many colors run up and down the façade, and the ceiling of the casino makes the player feel as if she's in the clouds. Messages abound, reinforcing a winning attitude and imposed never-say-never style. The magicians of psychology provide a place to disengage from reality; a hole to crawl into with new, fancy graphics and playful noises offering regression.

Couples exit hand-in-hand from the icebox that is the casino floor, out into the humid heat of the still-sunny day. They’re exhausted by vigorous slot play and flavorless buffet food, but pleased because they used old points for the food and won new points from the slot play. They’ve only won money once and have been coming for years, but that’s not really the point anyway. Plus, they will win, eventually; it’s only a matter of odds.

A lonely middle-aged man returns once a week to touch the new car sitting in the lobby. He has many a selfie with it now and is fairly certain the woman he’s been cyber-stalking is starting to believe it’s his. Nearby, the almost-middle-aged woman reveals slight disappointment when the guard does not ask for her ID. It wasn’t that long ago she was carded every time she came. She sighs to her friend, reminiscing about the day she was feisty enough to be escorted out of the casino.

Some of the employees remember when there was live entertainment every weekend, and when long, silver arms operated the slots, but now are just utilized for an extra sprinkling of luck on the spin. Here comes the hopeful couple, excited to win, but mostly happy just to be together for the night. By them sits the addict, unable to pull away even when he knows he doesn’t have anything left. And on his right is his good, loyal wife who comes along just to people watch, quietly biding her time with a few sips of beer while her life savings is gambled away.

Intrusively blocking the walkways is the wedding party posing for pictures at their favorite spot. They smile with pride, having just married, and at being clever enough to leverage “hitting a jackpot” for high quality Facebook posts - they’re going to get so many likes. In the restroom gathers the girls’ party who “oh-my-gosh”es this and “no-he-didn’t”s that, and then pauses for long breaks to scroll through their phones, their men patiently waiting just outside in the hallway.

To the risk-takers of life, uncaring that the world goes on around them, happy with the knowledge that they are actually doing something to change their destiny. Tonight’s the night - can’t you feel it?

[marylyda-blog]

Mostly Unchanging

A small, green plant living in a small, red pot holds residence on a window sill in her kitchen. She doesn’t remember when or how it arrived, but she has taken note of a characteristic both interesting and creepy: it never grows. In fact, it never really changes much at all, persisting in quiet suspension. It doesn’t require much to get by, receiving water and light as if optional. It survives well through periods of near neglect and outright neglect. An organic soldier of survival, right in her very home.

This organic survivor does display various subtle states. It doesn’t change permanently, however, always returning to its personal version of normalcy. There are four such states. During Fungus State, it develops a translucent grey fungus on top of its soil like the skin of a corpse. Filling in as a temporary cover, the fungus slightly undulates from some unfelt vibration, speckled with tiny black balls with white spots like eyes. Fungus State is typically followed by Dried Out, Crusty State. The small plant’s soil dries up and curls into a self-contained bowl shape, reminding her of something related to space travel. It retains the shape of the small red pot, but pulls away from the rim, creating separation as if it’s been too intimate with the pot during Fungus State. Then there’s Firm State, in which, well, the leaves are firm. Then there’s Soft State in which the leaves are...soft. That short list of four states encompasses the total sum characteristics this plant displays. 

This survivor-soldier-plant reminds her of people. People go on, day to day, experiencing subtle states but mostly unchanging. People experience a Fungus State. A Dried Out, Crusty State. They get firm, then grow soft. Maybe back to firm again, if they’re lucky. Creating space after periods of intimacy, but retaining the shape of whatever contains them. She’s yet to see a person remind her of something to use for space travel, but never say never.

This small, green plant is the only real plant in this house. The third living being in the home is disturbed by the presence of real plants. When forced to cohabitate with them, he frequently advocates for their termination, and is never involved in supportive efforts. This plant, although there have been repeated attempts to eliminate it by said plant-hater, has survived for years. It’s as if it’s learned the key to survival in the home. It does not ask for anything at all; it is obvious its sole mission is to simply stay alive. But for what purpose? It never complains, never browning if not watered enough, gets too little sun, or too much of either. It never droops to one side or the other. In fact, if not closely examined, its four states of being would go unnoticed. One would never see the small signs of resistance, its fight. 

Even in the face of such torture, the organic green solider gives back to the neglector, gives back to the one who plots against it. Producing the obligation of plant-life, oxygen, a product of digested gaseous waste. A survivor mentality, making lemonade out of lemons. One man’s trash and all that. Grateful for the occasional remains in her water bottle. Pure joy at the crack of the blinds. 

And yet, he’s convinced he’s seen the plant grow, reinforcing this belief each time she professes amazement at its mostly unchanging nature. The hater senses a growth that she does not. Is it paranoia? Perhaps the mystery is solved. The soldier plant lives on, nourished by a display of overt herbi-phobia.

[marylyda-blog]

Depression

The little girl packs her bag well. She’s fast, and she can get all of her things into a small one. The little girl is proud of this. She feels good that she can move quickly and efficiently and not take up much space. She’s happy that her dad lives on the next street. It’s quick to walk over there. She does this every weekend. There’s even a walkway that cuts through the block of apartment…

[marylyda-blog]

The Gift

A story for Marley: The Gift

She told him she didn’t want a dog – repeatedly. They had a cat, and that was enough for her. She had grown up with messy, stinky pets; she didn’t see that as something she wanted for herself. He didn’t listen. He wanted a dog, and he knew that if he put a cute, helpless little being in front of her, she wouldn’t be able to resist the urge to reach out and immediately meld with the soul inside of…

[marylyda-blog]