Blood Makes Noise - Till You Unleash a Really Really Big Dog You've Thoughtfully Named Tiny. So There.
by Your Diva, Robin Pastorio-Newman

No one sells black Converse All Stars anymore. You call around and find a store way out that has a pair in his size. Like any two people on a mission from Chuck Taylor, you jump in the car and drive like Knievel. You find the sneakers and they fit. It's a miracle. You bolt for the check out line before anyone notices your treasure. Then you stand there. And stand there. You are surrounded by bored teens in the latest clothing that fits no one. The loudspeaker plays mellow eighties hits, you finally notice. Wait, this song, you loved this corny, hopeful song. In line, surrounded by disdainful adolescents, you take his hand. You slow dance blissfully, sweetly to Broken Wings.

Grocery shopping at 3 a.m. means your breakup's at a critical stage. You're in bad shape when you have time to read canned goods labels two, three times. Each. (Maybe extra sodium kills you quicker...) The loudspeaker interrupts songs fewer times at this hour. A new song. Your breath catches. A song from childhood, when your parents separated. Your arms feel weak. Your feet find their own way because you see nothing, no rows of beets and baby asparagus, no puzzling generic mixed vegetables. Your hands ache - why do they ache? You whisper while Bonnie Raitt sings Love Has No Pride. When a gawky high school boy in an apron taps your shoulder you're dangling two market shelves off the floor to hear the sound of your heartache.

She's picked up her friends and she's heading home. She graduates high school today. They're all talking. She hates the song on the radio. She looks for the pre-set buttons. She presses. No. She presses. No. She presses, then looks up just in time to see brake lights and hit the brakes. If she'd liked the first song her friend's head wouldn't have bounced like a superball off the windshield. Or is the answer seat belts and a CD player?

Christmas Day 2000. My family sits in an upscale Japanese restaurant, talking about art and photography. I stop talking and cock my head. "Is that..." I stammered, "Are we...Are we sitting in a sushi bar hearing The Ballad of the Green Berets?"