south of the loop

I kill plants. Not on purpose, mind you. I really do try to keep them alive: sunlight, water, I even talk to the damn things. Only my plant Maurice survived my brown thumb, and he later succumbed at the hands of my mother.

I tell myself it’s not really me. After all, the last two places I’ve lived have had lousy natural light, and my cats find plants hopelessly irresistible. I seem to remember a time a few years ago (in a particularly sunny apartment) when I kept alive a number of plants. Either I’ve lost my touch or I need to get a different apartment.

Despite my murderous ways, I apparently send off a plant-friendly vibe. Strangely, the only people who pick up on this are 40-something women. At my last job, two different women gave me unsolicited green thumb advice and unsolicited plant clippings. One gave me a beautiful plant whose flowers bloom in an upside-down bell shape. (Twice, actually, since I killed the first one.) The other woman gave me an entire tray of herb clippings from her own garden—at least 15 varieties (and those I did manage to keep alive on my front porch). Other coworkers commented on the oddness of these relationships seemingly held together only by my ability to kill plants, and my desire to keep trying to grow them. Neither of these women were known for being friendly to just anybody, and I had certainly done nothing to deserve their friendship or their plants. Neither of them had anything to do with me professionally. They just brought me plants.

Just the other day, I discovered that my plant-friendly vibe is still strong, even if my plants are not. Piney, the bromeliad I’d purchased because the label promised it would be “hearty,” went to that great big nursery in the sky a few weeks ago. (Actually, the cleaning lady pointed to it and asked, “Dead?” I nodded. She did the honors.) Last week, the only 40-something woman in my department—with whom I’ve shared nothing more than cursory small talk—approached me in the kitchen and said, “You’re a plant person, aren’t you?” She had noticed that Piney had died… and had brought me in an aloe vera clipping. She swears I can’t kill it. We’ll see.

* * *

current book: I am pages from completing Elaine Soloway’s wonderful The Division Street Princess. Her girlhood was spent in a largely Jewish neighborhood in Chicago in the 1940s, and I can’t imagine any history book describing that neighborhood with such tender detail. The best thing about it is that her childhood seems fairly ordinary: sure, bad things happen, parents fight, money is uncertain, but it’s the simple fact of her childhood itself that is so wonderful to read about. And she’s actually convinced me to pick up an essay I wrote about my great-grandmother last year and retool it. I was never happy with how it turned out, but now I think I have the inspiration I need.

current music: My job has gone from something somewhat active to something extremely passive, so I’m back to 8 hours a day of the iPod. Recent listens include Deerhoof, The Beauty Shop, Joanna Newsom, The Black Heart Procession, some live Calexico songs (especially their cover of the Minutemen’s “Jesus & Tequila”), and Eiffel Tower.

current socks: My thigh-high wool socks in army-navy stripes. It’s fucking cold out there. I think Company’s employees should be allowed to work at home when the temperature drops below 20 degrees.

Posted 31 January 2007

Filed under: life in general by admin2

No Comments

Comments RSS TrackBack Identifier URI

Leave a comment

Name (required)

Mail (will not be published) (required)

Website