Penny Wise

"We started out as friends but the thought of you just caged me in." - Terence Trent D'Arby, Sign Your Name (Introducing the Hardline...)

For some reason, The Year of The Sexy has me nostalgic. I don't know why. I've never felt sexy for any extended period of time before now. There have been flashes, moments of brilliance, where the erotica of my mind has met the reality of my person and built to a crescendo of carnal prowess but they have been fleeting and far too rare. But this current movement of The Sexy has me thinking of old R&B love songs, wishing The Box still existed and that someone would order Rico Suave and Kyper's Tic Tac Toe and some Michel'le. Maybe even some Color Me Badd or Mentirosa. I wish I could go to a house party and have a dance-off with some fool that hasn't heard about how I get down. I'm thinking about junior high school and secret crushes and young love. And I'm thinking about Penny.

I spent 7th and 8th grade in Las Vegas. My dad was musical directing Ain't Misbehavin' at The Sahara and the show was such a hit the summer of 87, the summer my sister was born, that they decided to have it run indefinitely. That indefinitely turned into about 21 months and so my family moved from North Hollywood to Sin City. It always weirds me out when I think about the fact that it was only 2 years. I have so many memories from that time. I experienced so much there. I made fast friends. I had 3 bikes stolen from me. I obsessed about Comic Books and spent many an afternoon at Dungeon Comics. I learned to play the Cello. I toilet papered houses. I crushed on many a girl. And this girl, Penny, crushed on me.

There are three images that you should think of when you think of the name Penny. Janet Jackson's Penny on Good Times, Inspector Gadget's Penny on the cartoon series, and Penny, the clay animated girl of many a Pee-Wee's Playhouse short. The Penny of my 13th and 14th years looked a lot like the last two, except gawky and awkward. She lived with her grandmother in a condo that smelled like the stale scent of sickness and death. And strawberries. I tutored Penny in Algebra and History and English; she sang Terence Trent D'arby lyrics to me in her bedroom always wanting me to take my shoes off and get comfortable. She came to my cello recitals. I listened to her on the phone talk about how she missed her parents (both dead) and how she liked a certain boy never saying his name but letting the silence scream "Jason" in my ear. At thirteen, however, I had already mastered the boy trick of being oblivious to the obvious.

See, there was a problem. Penny was a nice girl. She was even kind of cute in her way but she was a total geek and I had quickly integrated myself into the realm of the cool kids. This was my 5th new school in my young primary educated life and I was a short kid with a tendency to say crazy brainiac shit because I did a lot more reading than playing, with eclectic tastes that saw no problem with alternating Stephen King novels and The Baby Sitters Club books or creating mix tapes with Eazy-E tracks sitting next to New Kids on The Block joints following them up with Pet Shop Boys and The Jets. I didn't fill a niche, a stereotype, an expectation. I'm the lone black kid in the Talented and Gifted program and I'm whipping your ass on these pop quizzes and so I developed a quick wit, a tendency to make fun of myself before you could and an adaptability that made me accepted, if not fully a member, in a lot of cliques. And William J. Orr Junior High was all about traditional cliques. Rich kids, black kids, student leaders, athletes, trenchcoat wearing "outsiders" (as if any of us were inside much of anything), and the freaks & geeks. Penny was a freak and I was holding on tenuously to my "coolness."

So, I pined for Emily, the hot 9th grader, just like every other middle school boy. I took the dap and the status when she laid her head on my lap on the long trip back from a camping field trip. I crushed on girls with lip gloss and tight jeans and giggly packs of friends not girls with long dead parents and psychological turmoil and an obsession with animal prints, cat glasses, and songs about Wishing Wells no matter how sweet they were to me and how much we could've kissed and heavy petted.

I was so lame in the 80s.

If I had to do it over again, Penny, I'd take my shoes off in your stale smelling house and totally make out with you.

Comments

[Scrappy]

Excellent. Thank you!

[Michelle]

You know I still posess casette singles of Rico Suave, All 4 Love and that one hit by Michel'le. Not to mention Jasmine Guy's one hit. Try and top that.

[roxi]

This is what i'm saying. You remind me of that chick Dorothy in that movie, where after running all over the place with those munchkins and battling flying monkeys, a good witch tells her she could have gone home all along.

babe, you've been sexy since i started reading this blog. back when you were ruminating about which wack classes you could take at community college, and whether or not you should attend that little church in your neighborhood.

i think you put your pic on the site and got all weirded out, like your writing wasn't good enough, (heck, like running 26.2 miles wasn't good enough)

regardless of how you look baby, sexy is in the mind.

just so you know

[Jason]

are you saying I'm ugly?

Just playin'.

[drublood]

Oh, man...I'm all about writing about making out. The hits and near misses. This is gorgeous, Jason. Thanks.

[orchidophile]

Another great post. Thanks for allowing us to stroll down memory lane with you. Michelle', Pet Shop Boys, Eazy E...I thought I was the only one.

[M]

I was right on the edge of nostalgia and this threw me right off. Reading this post hit me so hard I really had to stop and take a minute. I have my own version of "Penny". Mine was a cute pudgy faced boy named Joseph. What happened with Joseph, doesn't matter now. What matters and bothers me is the thought of countless opportunities I (we all) have and don't take advantage of when we have the chance. stupid, stupid, stupid. Thanks for the entry. Once again, beautifully expressed. I think I'll go back to listening to my Surface and Freddy Jackson cassettes.....

[rox]

didn't say that. (sed you were sexy already). just noticed a distinct change in tone after the marathon -- from we're in the bar and we don't give a damm, cosmopolitan playboy--to "i wish i had made out in the stinky apt???"

you're feeling sorry for her, it's just that you identify with her (now), and wish your crush would ignore your stinky feet and akward glasses and make out with you.

look, if kobe can deal --and still be sexy-- if wm.clinton can still be sexy -- you marathon man, can deal.

don't play on the humble tip, 'cause you want ppl to repeat their compliments

[HC]

I cannot believe you went the whole post and didn't mention "Penny Lover" by Lionel Richie.

Penny Lover, won't you walk on byyyyy...
Penny Lover, don't you make me cryyyyy...

[:: jozjozjoz ::]

OMG, I'm having a nostalgia attack!