On FASHION SHOW

February 19th, 2009

On FASHION SHOW

Miranda flipped through the channels on TV. On one was a reality show with a skank being interviewed. She was getting angry. On another channel was a fashion show, a thin model parading down the catwalk in a mildly ridiculous outfit. A commercial for a bank, a broadcast of a ski competition, a Seinfeld rerun, a energetically hosted talk show.
Miranda was doing nothing right now. Filling up time before the next something happened. But this too, would be a memory. The next time she flipped through channels, she would remember this time, and they would eventually be bundled up into a mass memory: Days Spent Watching TV.
Miranda turned the TV off, laid on her back on the couch and stared at the ceiling. She considered making a new rule for her life where she didn’t watch TV or read magazines, but she didn’t think she could do it. She closed her eyes. Her brain automatically made a list of Hollywood actors that were dating Hollywood Actresses. Every fashion show she’d ever seen on TV was exactly the same. She could have been watching the same one the whole time.
Miranda turned over and looked at the phone. She thought about calling her friend Melissa, but what would she say? Would it be weird? She hated talking on the phone. She hated people. She wished she was better than other people, and she wasn’t. She should read a novel. She should plan her wedding. She should find a boy. She should wash the dishes. She should do her hair. She should start a blog. She should look for a different job. Se should turn the TV back on. Why was TV failing her now? Her mind felt like a towel that had been wringed of all its moisture.
A voice entered her head: “Have you ever been to… Mexicoooo!?” It was like a commercial jingle. Maybe this was it. Maybe this was the thought that would determine her destiny. She could see herself telling Melissa, “Well, you know, I’ve always wanted to go to Mexico.” She would get a second job, save up money, and finally appear on the tarmax in Mexico, and when she came back from Mexico, and the little voice in her head asked her, “Have you ever been to… Mexicoooo!?”, she would say, “Oh yes, I have, and it was fantastic!”
Naw, she thought. Mexico wasn’t for her. It wasn’t in the cards. If only she had more ENERGY!! She should work out.
Finally, she moved to her computer and checked her email. Nothing. Fuck you fuckers, she thought. Why wouldn’t anyone email her? “Have you ever been to… Mexicooooo!?” that voice was getting annoying. She must have heard it on the radio in a commercial for a travel company.
What could Miranda do to make this day more memorable? How could she write her own life, right now, so that it would be the day “I was bored, watching TV, checking my email, I had nothing to do, and then, BAM! The thing happened. What was the thing. She drummed her fingers against her desk, and looked around at her living room, at the pictures she didn’t see anymore, the outside noises she didn’t hear anymore, wafting through her window. Why was she here?