26 April 2011

"a room for what matters"

25: I turned into it just shy of two weeks ago. It doesn't feel much different. Just turned.
24: an inversion of the number of poems in my thesis. 42 is lovely. 24, what I was just 12 days ago, was also lovely. The combination of the two numerals has proved quite eventful.
23: 2-the number of years the one my girls thought I should marry is apart from me in years, 3-the number of months apart we are, together the number of reasons given over the years for the perfection of the union
22: Students I currently teach. Unless you don't count the ones who've stopped showing up. Which I do.
21: The birthday I'd do over again.
20: Number of days left for me until it's all over--the classes, the workshops ... the glorious fun.
19: Letters in the title of my thesis. Ready? "A Room for What Matters"
18: Apparently the number of hours it takes for a bag of carrot chips to dry out when you forget to put them back in the refrigerator
17: Reasons I would love to fall in love
16: Reasons I wouldn't-- Love prevails
15: Row number, approximated, of first sloppy kiss, at a baseball game, which I still deny counts
14: Apparently, often confused with "40" when spoken. The world undervalues the letter N ... which is also the FOURTEENTH letter of the alphabet.
13: Number 13 was to be Alfred Hitchcock's directorial debut, but got canned. It was apparently about the tenants of a low-income housing property in London. With this tiny grain of information, I set aside writing plans for the summer to write a story that never was. I probably won't finish. But it's planned. Thought=count
12: Apostles. Peter is my favorite. Because he was a fool who counted.
11: There was a movie in which a character referred to the lines in the back of a starving person's neck as that person's "elevens." The notion haunts me to this day. I try to keep my neck a "one."
10: The commandment I struggle with almost daily. I have something of a covetous heart. I like the things I don't have. But I don't think I'd ever take the things I can't have. There's the line.
9: The glyph of the number nine apparently evolved from something of a question mark to something of an ear to something of a lollipop. Which makes me want a tootsie pop.
8: I run these figures around my carpet floor, because sometimes it makes me feel like I'm getting somewhere.
7: Not my lucky number.
5: "Fox, as in we're a bunch of foxy chicks. Force as in we're a force to be reckoned with. Five, as in there's one, two, three, four, five of us." ~I get my four together, and we'll rock the world.
4: Number of strong Black women forming my home base of sanity this year. Bless the other three.
3: Not my favorite number. That honor belongs to something a little more even.
2: I can make it into a frog. For real.
1: I'm not number one. But I'm close. (That's my humility's limit right there.)

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