Theatrical Muse Application
Muse: Edie
Fandom: Six Feet Under
Hearing, Sight, Taste, Touch, and Smell. The five senses. Which would be the worst one for you to lose, and why?
I think I’d be lost if I lost any of my senses, but having to chose the one I’d be totally lost without, I’d have to say touch. Yes, most definitely touch.
There’s something about how everything feels - even the air around you - like when you’re high, I know it sounds lame and all that shit but it’s true. Everything is more…real, vibrant even.
This one time, I remember almost like a dream, I was high off…something, I can’t remember, and Anita and the boy’s and I were at Claire’s. We were totally fucked up, Claire and I started painting the wall for no apparent reason other then we were inspired to. I think Anita was whoring with the boys…nothing new there.
But then we ended up going outside - just Claire and I - and lay in the grass.
If I close my eyes I can still feel the grass on my skin, between my toes and even in my hair. I can feel the wave’s of heat that came off her camera as she took photos of me that night.
Chills run up my spine when I think about that night, the feelings inside me enhanced by the drugs, but still all valid.
Since that night dipping my hands into paint and walking in the grass has never been the same.
How did you lose your virginity?
That depends on what you classify as ‘virginity’.
The first time I was with a girl I was sixteen and it was in the locker room at school. I always did anything - and almost everything - I could to get out of gym class, it always worked like a charm. I was in the shower stall’s having a smoke when this girl came in - she was one of those preppy little cheerleader types that everyone loved, and loved to hate - but she was hot.
Her attitude made her ugly as fuck, but she was still hot, I wasn’t a wonder the guys were always trying to get up her skirt. She’d let them too…
Wow, now doesn’t that sound like the beginning of a porn movie…
Honestly, the first time happened by accident - I think - with one of my friends in art class. We had some sub teacher and she left the room, nobody really stayed but a few of us. I started playing around with the charcoals and I’m not even sure what the hell happened but she was kissing me and the top of my head I could almost swear came off, I’ve never been kissed like that before.
We never got serious or anything, I think her parents would send her to military school if they found out she and I weren’t studying when we were up in her room but we were actually trying to see who could fuck each other’s brains out harder.
Now the first - and I stress only time I was with a guy, I was nearly eighteen… We’re just going to erase that from history.
Think about something you once wanted so badly but never acquired. Write about how you think your life would’ve been different if you had received what your heart desired.
That’s simple and simply painful to think about. There’s never been something I’ve wanted as badly as I did Claire. No, she’s not a something but she’s definitely someone. As much as I tried to deny it or keep myself from feeling anyway towards her other then friendship. It’s just another thing in life I failed at because I fell in love with her, I fell in love with a straight friend of mine.
No amount of angry words could change the fact of what happened that night between us, not even getting totally fucked out of my mind on some drug Anita brought me could get Claire out of my mind.
If things had gone well that night with us, I don’t know where we’d be to be honest. I know I wouldn’t have gone up there on open mic night and talk about her like that, it’s one of the few hidden regrets I have to this day. Writing it was one thing, spilling it in front of everyone was another, people knew who it was I was talking about. My feelings for Claire were always as apparent to everyone - but her it seems - as the nose on my face. Those were her friends I stood in front of, not mine, but hers.
I’ve thought about how a perfect utopian world Claire and I would live in if she’d felt at least half of what I felt for her. It always seemed so fake and built but it didn’t matter, we’d spend our days at school, sitting in the back and griping about how full of bullshit the teacher was as we half paid attention. We would always be too busy to pay attention because we’d have some new crazy art project planned - but nothing would be as crazy as the mall idea that never was.
After classes we’d be in some studio painting or sculpting. I’d curl up in a chair and draw her while she worked, unless we were brainstorming some more. We seemed to inspire each other; we fed each other’s muses like oxygen and craved more.
Our nights would be spent on some rooftop getting high and maybe taking buckets of paint and just dipping our hands in, letting whatever we felt flow out onto the roll of canvas that was laid out.
In our little utopian home there’s a stretch of canvas hanging on the wall - her mother loves it and speaks about it every time she comes by - and it was painted the first night we went up on the roof. I can still feel how the mixture of her touch, the paint and the canvas felt as we moved on it.
If I had received what my heart desired then I wouldn’t have lost part of my inspiration.
Fandom: Six Feet Under
Hearing, Sight, Taste, Touch, and Smell. The five senses. Which would be the worst one for you to lose, and why?
I think I’d be lost if I lost any of my senses, but having to chose the one I’d be totally lost without, I’d have to say touch. Yes, most definitely touch.
There’s something about how everything feels - even the air around you - like when you’re high, I know it sounds lame and all that shit but it’s true. Everything is more…real, vibrant even.
This one time, I remember almost like a dream, I was high off…something, I can’t remember, and Anita and the boy’s and I were at Claire’s. We were totally fucked up, Claire and I started painting the wall for no apparent reason other then we were inspired to. I think Anita was whoring with the boys…nothing new there.
But then we ended up going outside - just Claire and I - and lay in the grass.
If I close my eyes I can still feel the grass on my skin, between my toes and even in my hair. I can feel the wave’s of heat that came off her camera as she took photos of me that night.
Chills run up my spine when I think about that night, the feelings inside me enhanced by the drugs, but still all valid.
Since that night dipping my hands into paint and walking in the grass has never been the same.
How did you lose your virginity?
That depends on what you classify as ‘virginity’.
The first time I was with a girl I was sixteen and it was in the locker room at school. I always did anything - and almost everything - I could to get out of gym class, it always worked like a charm. I was in the shower stall’s having a smoke when this girl came in - she was one of those preppy little cheerleader types that everyone loved, and loved to hate - but she was hot.
Her attitude made her ugly as fuck, but she was still hot, I wasn’t a wonder the guys were always trying to get up her skirt. She’d let them too…
Wow, now doesn’t that sound like the beginning of a porn movie…
Honestly, the first time happened by accident - I think - with one of my friends in art class. We had some sub teacher and she left the room, nobody really stayed but a few of us. I started playing around with the charcoals and I’m not even sure what the hell happened but she was kissing me and the top of my head I could almost swear came off, I’ve never been kissed like that before.
We never got serious or anything, I think her parents would send her to military school if they found out she and I weren’t studying when we were up in her room but we were actually trying to see who could fuck each other’s brains out harder.
Now the first - and I stress only time I was with a guy, I was nearly eighteen… We’re just going to erase that from history.
Think about something you once wanted so badly but never acquired. Write about how you think your life would’ve been different if you had received what your heart desired.
That’s simple and simply painful to think about. There’s never been something I’ve wanted as badly as I did Claire. No, she’s not a something but she’s definitely someone. As much as I tried to deny it or keep myself from feeling anyway towards her other then friendship. It’s just another thing in life I failed at because I fell in love with her, I fell in love with a straight friend of mine.
No amount of angry words could change the fact of what happened that night between us, not even getting totally fucked out of my mind on some drug Anita brought me could get Claire out of my mind.
If things had gone well that night with us, I don’t know where we’d be to be honest. I know I wouldn’t have gone up there on open mic night and talk about her like that, it’s one of the few hidden regrets I have to this day. Writing it was one thing, spilling it in front of everyone was another, people knew who it was I was talking about. My feelings for Claire were always as apparent to everyone - but her it seems - as the nose on my face. Those were her friends I stood in front of, not mine, but hers.
I’ve thought about how a perfect utopian world Claire and I would live in if she’d felt at least half of what I felt for her. It always seemed so fake and built but it didn’t matter, we’d spend our days at school, sitting in the back and griping about how full of bullshit the teacher was as we half paid attention. We would always be too busy to pay attention because we’d have some new crazy art project planned - but nothing would be as crazy as the mall idea that never was.
After classes we’d be in some studio painting or sculpting. I’d curl up in a chair and draw her while she worked, unless we were brainstorming some more. We seemed to inspire each other; we fed each other’s muses like oxygen and craved more.
Our nights would be spent on some rooftop getting high and maybe taking buckets of paint and just dipping our hands in, letting whatever we felt flow out onto the roll of canvas that was laid out.
In our little utopian home there’s a stretch of canvas hanging on the wall - her mother loves it and speaks about it every time she comes by - and it was painted the first night we went up on the roof. I can still feel how the mixture of her touch, the paint and the canvas felt as we moved on it.
If I had received what my heart desired then I wouldn’t have lost part of my inspiration.