$1
A dollar bill. It’s 1/54th of the bouquet of roses Charlie sent me last week to congratulate me for dodging a bullet. It’s 1/2600 of a plane ticket that would bring him here –or . . . 1/(2600/2.4) to convert it into British pounds. It’s about thirty seconds on the phone, or half the muffin I can eat in those thirty seconds, or 1/trillionth of what I’d pay to have him here with me right now.
It’s 1/14 the cost of a new journal, 1/6 of a new pen, a little more than half a cup of coffee unless I remember to make it at home before c lass. It’s 1/9 of an hour not serving bitchy people their frappuchinos at Starbucks, and it’s 1/945 of what I pay monthly to sleep on a loft listening to drunk people yelling on the street and the Swiss guy having loud sex one door over. It’s 1/15 of what I pay per movie so that I can turn the telly on and go to Narnia or Hogwarts or Middle Earth whenever I goddamn well please.
It’s 1/400 of what I have to feed, clothe, educate, and medicate myself with until February, and 1/27 of what I pay monthly so as not to get pregnant from all the sex I’m not having.
100 pennies, 10 dimes, 20 nickels, 4 quarters, and odd combination. More than this sheet of paper cost; certainly more than my two cents is worth. Cost and worth, at what point do they intersect? Does something’s cost ever equal its worth?
There’s a statue of George Washington outside one of the castles in Budapest, Hungary, which I don’t understand because he was adamantly against interfering with other countries. I don’t know that we even talked to Hungary in the 18th century. But then he was also against a bipartisan system. Maybe it had to do with revolution; I’m foggy on my Hungarian history. It I was going to marry a dead historical figure, it would probably be him. Him or Errol Flynn, who I know was not a good person.
Anyways, Washington’s on the one dollar, and is also a state and our capitol, which is confusing to every elementary school kid. He’s got like twelve monuments and a street in every town. And he’s probably one of the least power-hungry men to ever live. Go figure, he’s on the lowest-valued but most popular bill.
One dollar. What Charlie would tuck into the garter of a thin stripper if he went to a club while he was in New York City last month. I don’t know if he went or not.
1/24 of the begonias I bought to brighten my windowsill up and 1/8 of the cactus that succeeded them when they died. 1/150 of what Mom usually spends on my Christmas presents; 1/50 of what I spent on hers; 1/1000000 of the value of the answer to the questions I’m dying to ask when Charlie breaks down and calls me just to hear my voice after a bad day.
Do you like me? It’s been a long day. Why did we even bother meeting on that German trainstation if we’ll never be more than foreign friends? Haven’t heard back from any auditions yet. Do you want me? Ran into the ex and it was civil but awkward; seeing her still hurts. If you saw me, would you kiss me? I love London but I want a vacation. Could you ever love me? I wish you weren’t so far away. What do you mean by that?
1 dollar = 1 more thing I will never get to hold for more than a moment
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Wrote this in my nonfiction class, fall 2008. For the exercise, my professor set a $1 in the middle of the table and asked, "What is that?"