Adonis Diaries

Posts Tagged ‘Jennifer

The skipper-type is recalling this beauty

Not Linda, though very appropriate

It has been terribly cold these past two weeks,

Lebanon standard of cold, not that terrible with minimal amenities.

We do enjoy a water central heating system…

And I could afford the fuel, mazout.

 

It is 2 am and watching a movie on TV,

I am not sleepy, but cold is creeping in my bones.

I got inside my “warmer” bed, and could not sleep.

Memories flooding in, dispersing haphazardly, converging, diverging,

Refocusing on a beautiful face.

 

A beautiful face I met 37 years ago.

It was winter of 1976.

A Friday, and about 8:30 pm.

Alone, as usual, I am to watch a foreign movie,

Shown by the University Film Club at the Microbiology department.

 

She showed up with her girlfriend. She is blonde, blue/green eyed, not tall, not skinny.

For my candid eyes, just the perfect beauty.

I cowered.

I should have made haste, join her, and say: “Fair lady, have a good look at my face.

I need you to remember my face.

I need you to recollect that this face once told you

“You are the most beautiful girl around…”

 

The microbiology department, a stupid two flat floors, a couple of microscopes, and an auditorium.

The second “complex” by the Main Library, looking south,

The South long lawn, ideal for mass student demonstrations.

I used to demonstrate around it twice a week,  mostly joining a hundred of Iranian students,

Scanding: “Down with the Shah of Iran”, “Down with US imperialism“, Down with the Savak”

The Shah secret service

Three years later, the Shah fled to exile.

Only Sadat of Egypt dared give him shelter, and where he died of cancer.

 

No, I didn’t chicken out: I terribly lacked conversational skills, and still do.

No, I didn’t chicken out: I had never carried out a conversation with a beautiful girl,

I didn’t understand girls, or human interconnection…

And time never came to the rescue in any important skills: It aches,

And the aches are exacerbated with time.

 

A couple of months later, I met her in my apartment.

An old student complex that I shared with a friend studying pharmacy.

I was returning at midnight from the library. Biking in the cold.

It was a cold night, and I must have biked or walked, no other alternatives.

And I had to piss badly and profusely.

I stepped out and this beauty had vanished like a mirage.

 

“Where is she?” I asked my roommate Fouad.

“You know, the one I once told you was the most beautiful girl around that I met?”

Fouad looked me up in total surprise. “You mean Jennifer?”…

That’s another story: She was taking a pharmacy class with him…

And spending the evening memorizing medical pharmacology terms.

My roommate told me that he had an idea to sleep with her

But will drop this desire for the sake of my fantasie.

Kind of a tacit loyalty. A rare sort of loyalty.

And I had to believe him any which way.

 

Twelve years later, I met her at Zanzibar, a night club in the town of Norman.

She was sitting alone, at the bar, waiting for the bar to close

and leave with her new beau bartender, serving drinks.

 

She didn’t change a bit.

Twelve years later, and another round of “higher education” stint,

A stint that grew me old:

My PhD advisor told me: “At your age, I was married with 3 children, 2 boys and a girl”

And he didn’t look that old.

 

Some people mature fast and very soon.

Maturity? I am waiting for this phase to take a peek at me.

I am  the skipper-type:

From an everlasting naive kid to rotten wise.

 

I sat by her at the bar and whispered her name: I could still recall her name.

A name that my roommate had told me, long, long time ago.

I introduced myself and simply reminded her of the name of Fouad, my former roommate.

She “recognized” me instantly.

 

Fouad must have told her about the devastating impression she made on me…

Count on a girl to retrieve a guy’s face, formed in a split-second,

Many years later, a face attached to “You are the most beautiful girl around…”

 

We had no conversation: She didn’t contribute a word.

We never had an opportunity to talk before.

And I had never heard her voice then, or now.

She didn’t even smiled, not a flicker of a smile.

 

She was selling pharmaceutical products…

I could have said: “Has one of the two bartenders invited you tonight?

Are you intending to invite a particular bartender…?”

Any small talk, the most outrageous talk would have been swell…

This cavernous silence.  She didn’t change a bit

 

I bet, if I meet her again, another 37 years later, this girl will still be the same girl,

Unchanged, not a bit:

The eyes register the first impression,

And it was good.

My eyes: setting on the most beautiful girl around.

My eyes, refusing to sleep a wink tonight.

The skipper-type.  Jennifer? Jo-Ann? Not Linda…Though very appropriate

It has been terribly cold these past two weeks,

Lebanon standard of cold.

We do enjoy central heating systems…

I cannot afford the fuel.

It is 2 am, and I am not sleepy, but cold is creeping in my bones.

I got inside my “warmer” bed, and could not sleep.

Memories flooding in, dispersing haphazardly, converging, diverging,

Refocusing on a beautiful face, a beautiful face I met 37 years ago.

It was winter of 1976.

A Friday, and about 8:30 pm.

Alone, as usual, I went to watch a foreign movie,

Shown by the University Film Club at the Microbiology department.

She showed up with her girlfriend.

She is blonde, blue/green eyed, not tall, not skinny.

For my candid eyes, just the perfect beauty.

I cowered. I should have made haste, join her, and say:

“Fair lady, have a good look at my face.

I need you to remember my face.

I need you to recollect that this face once told you

“You are the most beautiful girl around…”

The microbiology department, a stupid two flat floors, a couple of microscopes, and an auditorium.

The second “complex” by the Main Library, looking south,

The South long lawn, ideal for mass student demonstrations,

I used to demonstrate around it twice a week,  with a couple hundred of Iranian students,

Chanting: “Down with the Shah of Iran”, “Down with US imperialism“, Down with the Savak”…

Three years later, the Shah fled to exile.

Only Sadat of Egypt dared give him shelter.

No, I didn’t chicken out: I terribly lack conversational skills, and still do.

No, I didn’t chicken out: I had never carried out a conversation with a beautiful girl,

I didn’t understand girls, or human interconnection…

And time never came to the rescue in any important skills: It aches,

And the aches are exacerbated with time.

A couple of months later, I met her in my apartment.

I was returning at midnight from the library.

It was a cold night, and I must have biked or walked, no other alternatives.

The beauty was “studying” with my roommate.

And I had to piss badly and profusely before I salute her officially.

I stepped out of the WC and this beauty had vanished like a mirage.

“Where is she?” I asked my room-mate Fouad.

“You know, the one I once told you was the most beautiful girl around that I met?”

Fouad looked me up in total surprise. “You mean Jennifer?”…

That’s another story: She was taking a pharmacy class with him…

Twelve years later, I met her at Zanzibar, a night club in the town.

She was sitting alone, at the bar, waiting for her new beau serving drinks,

She didn’t change a bit.

Twelve years later, and another round of “higher education” stint,

A stint that grew me old:

My Ph.D advisor told me: “At your age, I had married my three kids…”

And he didn’t look that old.

Some people mature fast and very soon.

Maturity? I am waiting for this phase to take a peek at me.

I am  the skipper-type:

From everlasting naïve kid to rotten wise.

I sat by her and whispered her name: I could still recall her name.

I introduced myself and simply reminded her of the name of Fouad, my former room-mate.

She “recognized” me instantly.

Fouad must have told her about the devastating impression she made on me…

Count on a girl to retrieve a guy’s face, formed in a split-second,

Many years later, a face attached to “You are the most beautiful girl around…”

We had no conversation: She didn’t contribute.

She was selling pharmaceutical products, a saleswoman…

I could have said: “Has one of the two bartenders invited you tonight?

Are you intending to invite a particular bartender…?”

Any small talk, the most outrageous talk would have been swell…

This cavernous silence. She was Not curious about my status.

She didn’t change a bit

I bet, if I meet her again, another 12 years later, this girl will still be the same girl,

Unchanged, not a bit:

The eyes register the first impression,

And it was good.

My eyes: setting on the most beautiful girl around.

My eyes, refusing to sleep a wink tonight.

Girlfriend battle with cancer: Photographer Angelo Merendino photographed every stage…

Angelo and Jennifer’s story is tragic, but it’s in the face of a tragedy such as this that we rise above.

In Angelo’s case, he has started an organization to help women with their financial struggles during their trials with breast cancer.

American photographer Angelo Merendino photographed every stage his girlfriend went through in her battle with cancer

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

  

16 - ogZ90NU
Angelo Merendino
17 - YOMt8nY
Angelo Merendino
18 - ovItc24
Angelo Merendino
19 - tY0APdP
Angelo Merendino
20 - I2tE1Tk
Angelo Merendino
22 - rZIpEuG
Angelo Merendino
23 - gbLNHAQ
Angelo Merendino
24 - wy084WW
Angelo Merendino
25 - yt1cOUa
Angelo Merendino
26 - LeUG3OV
Angelo Merendino
27 - lcQWvKE
Angelo Merendino
28 - wMLWKim
Angelo Merendino
31 - ETZMZeD
Angelo Merendino.

You can get that and much more at Angelo’s

  

The skipper-type.  Jennifer? Jo-Ann? Not Linda…Though very appropriate

It has been terribly cold these past two weeks,

Lebanon standard of cold.

We do enjoy central heating systems…

I cannot afford the fuel.

It is 2 am, and I am not sleepy, but cold is creeping in my bones.

I got inside my “warmer” bed, and could not sleep.

Memories flooding in, dispersing haphazardly, converging, diverging,

Refocusing on a beautiful face, a beautiful face I met 37 years ago.

It was winter of 1976.

A Friday, and about 8:30 pm.  Alone, I am to watch a foreign movie,

Shown by the University Film Club at the Microbiology department.

She showed up with her girlfriend. She is blonde, blue/green eyed, not tall, not skinny.

For my candid eyes, just the perfect beauty.

I cowered. I should have made haste, join her, and say: “Fair lady, have a good look at my face.

I need you to remember my face.

I need you to recollect that this face once told you

“You are the most beautiful girl around…”

The microbiology department, a stupid two flat floors, a couple of microscopes, and an auditorium.

The second “complex” by the Main Library, looking south,

The South long lawn, ideal for mass student demonstrations,

I used to demonstrate around it twice a week,  with a couple hundred of Iranian students,

Scanding: “Down with the Shah of Iran”, “Down with US imperialism“, Down with the Savak”…

Three years later, the Shah fled to exile.

Only Sadat of Egypt dared give him shelter.

No, I didn’t chicken out: I terribly lack conversational skills, and still do.

No, I didn’t chicken out: I had never carried out a conversation with a beautiful girl,

I didn’t understand girls, or human interconnection…

And time never came to the rescue in any important skills: It aches,

And the aches are exacerbated with time.

A couple of months later, I met her in my apartment.

I was returning at midnight from the library.

It was a cold night, and I must have biked or walked, no other alternatives.  And I had to piss badly and profusely.

I stepped out and this beauty had vanished like a mirage.

“Where is she?” I asked my room-mate Fouad.  “You know, the one I once told you was the most beautiful girl around that I met?”

Fouad looked me up in total surprise. “You mean Jennifer?”…

That’s another story: She was taking a pharmacy class with him…

Twelve years later, I met her at Zanzibar, a night club in the town of Norman.

She was sitting alone, at the bar, waiting for her new beau serving drinks,

She didn’t change a bit.

Twelve years later, and another round of “higher education” stint,

A stint that grew me old:

My Ph.D advisor told me: “At your age, I had married my three kids…”

And he didn’t look that old.

Some people mature fast and very soon.

Maturity? I am waiting for this phase to take a peek at me.

I am  the skipper-type:

From everlasting naive kid to rotten wise.

I sat by her and whispered her name: I could still recall her name.

I introduced myself and simply reminded her of the name of Fouad, my former room-mate.

She “recognized” me instantly.

Fouad must have told her about the devastating impression she made on me…

Count on a girl to retrieve a guy’s face, formed in a split-second,

Many years later, a face attached to “You are the most beautiful girl around…”

We had no conversation: She didn’t contribute.

She was selling pharmaceutical products…

I could have said: “Has one of the two bartenders invited you tonight? Are you intending to invite a particular bartender…?”

Any small talk, the most outrageous talk would have been swell…

This cavernous silence.  She didn’t change a bit

I bet, if I meet her again, another 37 years later, this girl will still be the same girl,

Unchanged, not a bit:

The eyes register the first impression,

And it was good.

My eyes: setting on the most beautiful girl around.

My eyes, refusing to sleep a wink tonight.


adonis49

adonis49

adonis49

October 2020
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