You're the reason I'm travellin' on...

Aug 16, 2006 11:54




For the price of a cup of tea
You'd get a line of coke
For the price of a night with me
You'd be the village joke
For the price of a pint of milk
I'll tell you all I know
About the state of the world today
Sit down, enjoy the show

She had several hours to find a place to stay
Try the coffee shop, but somewhere on the way
She heard about a place, somewhere she could go
Walked a couple of blocks to her destination

- Belle & Sebastian

I have spent one week in my room dipped and flecked in paint.

I have my dropcloth splayed out beneath me like a spotty shroud, a canvas propped up against my knees, and my brushes laid out in their pouch like surgical tools ready for the cut. Blacks and blues spill onto the empty spaces with the flick of a wrist. They brood and wait for rich yellows and pinks to light the moody corners with shapely figures and silhouettes. I think paint does this on its own - it just needs me to pick up the brush.

I've given them all away. I spend hours with them, time enough for their flaws to stick in my teeth like popcorn kernels. They're pretty and painful and easier to give away than brood over.

I haven't drawn for my comic because I've been so stuck in paint. I'm just getting used to painting again so it's swallowing my time without asking. It's just like remembering how much you really do like Abbey Road. Put it on and sink into it - before you realize it you're listening to Her Majesty and you've got to put something else on.

But maybe you're like me and maybe you just start the album again.

So I haven't written much, I haven't drawn comics much, and I haven't even left my room much.

Last week I did something for the first time. I saw a silent film at the Paramount in Seattle. It was sassy and passionate - everything Don Juan was when I read Byron's poem the first time. It was mesmerizing to watch their faces - we've lost so much intensity in acting. It's surprising how little dialogue you actually need to tell a story.

I dropped one of my hairclips down the drain the other day. An irreplaceable hairclip - one that would leave half of my head besmirched by wispy flyaways. So I removed the P-trap (let all the patchy hair clumps flop into a plastic bin - yum!) and shook my hairclip free.

I felt so resourceful.

So powerful.

So free to drop things down the drain whenever I want .

I got Pho yesterday with Megan and Alexis. Alexis had never had Pho. I hadn't since England. We went to two thrift stores and I bought some brand new converse shoes for twenty bucks. I bought an old cookbook and ate saltwater taffy in the car. I will be seeing Megan again today.

I'm leaving for Utah tomorrow. I'm almost all packed - it didn't take long. I really don't have much. The books went first - always the hardest part - deciding what stays and what goes. I'm leaving my old books - those delicious antiques I've piled up in the living room for months. My collection has gotten too big to pack around. I'll miss those.

I feel as though I should sum it up - wrap a sentence around the summer and pack it away for me to remember. This has been the longest summer. I've drowned in hours of drawing and writing and painting and reading. I've met the city like a lover reacquainting himself with curves and dimples - I can picture the streets running in and out of each other and how the lights look from I-5. I swam in the lake at midnight. I ran away from home and sipped foam off the top of saucer-sized hot chocolate. I tried Chai tea and saw the Degrassi movie. I learned all the words to all the Morrissey and Smiths songs ever recorded and bought twenty-seven new books. I drank lavender soda and finished four seasons of Law and Order. I saw the Mariners win. I bought big silver rings for five fingers and learned to tell the difference between good and bad sushi. I cleaned my room. I broke my heart in front of someone and got hit by a car. I went to my first antique shop and saw Shakespeare in the park. I swam in the ocean and went to Cedar's for the first time. I saw the Marniners lose. I bought sunglasses and went to see live jazz in the city. I introduced Jessie to "The Office" and we both wore Janis Joplin the next day. I learned how to swing dance in the water.

It's too big wrap in a sentence. I still have one night left - one more chance to see you - the last sip of flavour steeped into a few hours.

Words are so clumsy.

Summer, though.

For the price of a cup of tea
You'd get a seven inches

Soul black vinyl to stop your tears
You can use my stereo
You might be the village joke but
Don't listen to the gossip of the other folk

She just wants to be accepted in this place
There's something in her face
She will always seem exotic and aloof
If you want to know the truth
Her friend the stars dripping from the jewelled sky
When she was passing by
Would keep her calm
There was people that she knew, at least she thought she did
Be easy on the kid!

She took her winter coat from her plastic wrapper
Pushed back her fringe, see her birthmark

she can finally be the person she wanted to be

family, friends, art, memories

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