Birthday cake with rum filling.
Sometimes, the universe is unbalanced.
Sometimes, the unbalanced is just the right balance you need, because everything else is unbalanced too, but beautifully, like artwork, when all the lines are pointing different directions and some are fatter and some bled into the others when the painter pushed the brush too hard but together, they make the oddest sort of beauty you have ever seen.
Just like some people. Some people have the oddest, ugliest, most misplaced features by themselves, but together, they have a beautiful face... or the opposite, and quite my favorite, the ugly face but the beautiful features. And godbless mankind for being able to overlook that.
But the point to my story doesn't lie in the faces of people that are strangers to me, the people I always see in my mind and my dreams whose names I do not know, but my story lies here with the people I know best and love most dearly.
Last Saturday Ashley and I woke up very early. We listened to Jackpot on the windy road to Coloma, with the windows down and our sunglasses on, and we watched all the scenery go by and change on the road, and read the "Population: 175" sign on the side of the road, and dreamt about when our addition would make it "177".
It must have been 107 degrees outside. We drank so much water. We went to the museum. We went to the old Chinese store and bank. We went to the candy store, Be bough 15 cent candies that tasted like cloves, we bought tins full of rose and jasmine pastilles ((which I have fully finished)), huge taffies of pink and yellow, a sucker for Kyle, rock candy and an hour long lasting sucker. We sat on the old wooden porch, delapitating and covered in moss, and ate, and we planned.
Our house, out in coloma, with a porch, and two trees in front of it. Practicing alchemy in the back of the house or the extra room, hanging crystals and birdfeeders from the trees outfront, wallpapering, having a record room, going to the candy store every weekend or the river to swim, eating over at Teal's, watching the rafters, taking pictures and poloroids and plastering our wall with them, nicknacks and antiques, and painting early in the morning barefoot. Parties with music and poetry and books that line the walls, old dusty pianos and fingers that can play the keys better than our bumbling ones. A life that is, needless to say, perfect with flaws.
Then we went to the river. We took pictures. Then to James Marshalls house. Then to a Trading Post.
It was amazing.
There was a callico cat named, hilariously, kissy-face ((kiss kiss kiss)), there were homemade pilgrim tops and old HAM radios, feathers were hanging in bags along huge pine columns, the place smelled of the inceanse that was for sale, 20 for two bucks. There were faux arrow-heads that looked real and bizzare stones and gold leaves and postcards with miners whose old wrinkled faces peered from beneath a tone of gloss. There were handmade dream wavers weaved out of feathers by hand, and necklaces and huge stones to adorn them with. The woman behind the counter was beautiful, in the sense of spirit.
We drove up to Camino and back, without a point, and bought a peach on the way home. I like Pollock Pines. I think it feels good, in a creepy sense.
Mornings are so early on Fridays when you know you have Saturday, Sunday, and Monday as a weekend. School days are so long. Even lunch. Even drama... and when you're handing out invitations to a party like you're in second grade, and when your hands are sweating and you're listening to Jackpot very loudly on the way home in your rose tinted glasses that make the world look absolutley beautiful.... and when you take that big breath of freedom on the road home.
Working with Stan on Friday was very fun. I thought it was funny that he showed me the "1 girl who's 16 does 69 3 times", just like Joey did. When people know eachother and it is possible to see similarites, I like it.
Saturday night was amazing. I mean amazing.
Music is amazing. Especially when it pulsates in your veins, in your sweat and in your heart, in the floorboards beneath you that cave up and down with the bouncing feet of dancers front row, who can't and won't contain themselves. It's amazing when the whole room is reflected in mirrors or when Jackpot takes the stage and you're front row, and you dance like no one's watching, just like the senior quotes have always told you to in the yearbooks prior to your senior one, and you're sweating all over and your skirt's flying up and around and you simply don't care because every time you close your eyes you're further and further away and when you open them again everybody is alvie and eveyrthing is breathing and the music has somehow gotten inside you and you can't control your feet and your best friend grabs you and you dance together and she saves the microphone stand and you can't move when you get home. That's amazing.
Sunday was the party.
Let me tell you some other things that are amazing.
When all the people you wanted and/or needed to see show up ((with the exception of one who was at Monteray)), and you jump into the pool for the first time in your life instead of wading in, and you make cookies with your best friend before everybody shows up, and Pam shows up first, and you get to hang out with your good friend's new boyfriend, and you get to talk to Grayson and Cody and Casey and Nick, and Nick for the first time in a long time, and you realize how cool he is, and sitting in your living room playing Grand Theft Auto III and you laugh so hard that you can't breathe for what seems like three hours while everyone passes around the controller just like a joint and everyone plays except Ashley ((who doesn't need to because she's funny)) and when you finally breathe your ribs hurt so badly they feel like they've collapsed. And how you love Cody. And how he means so much to you, and how you're so glad you know him. And how everyone is just acting like themselves, and you love that.
And today.
It's also awesome when....
it's your brother's birthday, and you swim all day and eat crab and burn him a very good CD and then Joey Beatty and Stan come over. And Joey and Stan come over. And they play with your nephew and make you and your best friend laugh, and Joey makes you feel beautiful when you're online that night, and you realize how much everybody means to you, and how much this world means to you, and how drunk one person can get off the combination of music and friends, and how dancing, even just once, can change your life, truly.
I have rented too many kids movies.
I love everyone who I have seen since Friday.
Sometimes, the unbalanced is just the right balance you need, because everything else is unbalanced too, but beautifully, like artwork, when all the lines are pointing different directions and some are fatter and some bled into the others when the painter pushed the brush too hard but together, they make the oddest sort of beauty you have ever seen.
Just like some people. Some people have the oddest, ugliest, most misplaced features by themselves, but together, they have a beautiful face... or the opposite, and quite my favorite, the ugly face but the beautiful features. And godbless mankind for being able to overlook that.
But the point to my story doesn't lie in the faces of people that are strangers to me, the people I always see in my mind and my dreams whose names I do not know, but my story lies here with the people I know best and love most dearly.
Last Saturday Ashley and I woke up very early. We listened to Jackpot on the windy road to Coloma, with the windows down and our sunglasses on, and we watched all the scenery go by and change on the road, and read the "Population: 175" sign on the side of the road, and dreamt about when our addition would make it "177".
It must have been 107 degrees outside. We drank so much water. We went to the museum. We went to the old Chinese store and bank. We went to the candy store, Be bough 15 cent candies that tasted like cloves, we bought tins full of rose and jasmine pastilles ((which I have fully finished)), huge taffies of pink and yellow, a sucker for Kyle, rock candy and an hour long lasting sucker. We sat on the old wooden porch, delapitating and covered in moss, and ate, and we planned.
Our house, out in coloma, with a porch, and two trees in front of it. Practicing alchemy in the back of the house or the extra room, hanging crystals and birdfeeders from the trees outfront, wallpapering, having a record room, going to the candy store every weekend or the river to swim, eating over at Teal's, watching the rafters, taking pictures and poloroids and plastering our wall with them, nicknacks and antiques, and painting early in the morning barefoot. Parties with music and poetry and books that line the walls, old dusty pianos and fingers that can play the keys better than our bumbling ones. A life that is, needless to say, perfect with flaws.
Then we went to the river. We took pictures. Then to James Marshalls house. Then to a Trading Post.
It was amazing.
There was a callico cat named, hilariously, kissy-face ((kiss kiss kiss)), there were homemade pilgrim tops and old HAM radios, feathers were hanging in bags along huge pine columns, the place smelled of the inceanse that was for sale, 20 for two bucks. There were faux arrow-heads that looked real and bizzare stones and gold leaves and postcards with miners whose old wrinkled faces peered from beneath a tone of gloss. There were handmade dream wavers weaved out of feathers by hand, and necklaces and huge stones to adorn them with. The woman behind the counter was beautiful, in the sense of spirit.
We drove up to Camino and back, without a point, and bought a peach on the way home. I like Pollock Pines. I think it feels good, in a creepy sense.
Mornings are so early on Fridays when you know you have Saturday, Sunday, and Monday as a weekend. School days are so long. Even lunch. Even drama... and when you're handing out invitations to a party like you're in second grade, and when your hands are sweating and you're listening to Jackpot very loudly on the way home in your rose tinted glasses that make the world look absolutley beautiful.... and when you take that big breath of freedom on the road home.
Working with Stan on Friday was very fun. I thought it was funny that he showed me the "1 girl who's 16 does 69 3 times", just like Joey did. When people know eachother and it is possible to see similarites, I like it.
Saturday night was amazing. I mean amazing.
Music is amazing. Especially when it pulsates in your veins, in your sweat and in your heart, in the floorboards beneath you that cave up and down with the bouncing feet of dancers front row, who can't and won't contain themselves. It's amazing when the whole room is reflected in mirrors or when Jackpot takes the stage and you're front row, and you dance like no one's watching, just like the senior quotes have always told you to in the yearbooks prior to your senior one, and you're sweating all over and your skirt's flying up and around and you simply don't care because every time you close your eyes you're further and further away and when you open them again everybody is alvie and eveyrthing is breathing and the music has somehow gotten inside you and you can't control your feet and your best friend grabs you and you dance together and she saves the microphone stand and you can't move when you get home. That's amazing.
Sunday was the party.
Let me tell you some other things that are amazing.
When all the people you wanted and/or needed to see show up ((with the exception of one who was at Monteray)), and you jump into the pool for the first time in your life instead of wading in, and you make cookies with your best friend before everybody shows up, and Pam shows up first, and you get to hang out with your good friend's new boyfriend, and you get to talk to Grayson and Cody and Casey and Nick, and Nick for the first time in a long time, and you realize how cool he is, and sitting in your living room playing Grand Theft Auto III and you laugh so hard that you can't breathe for what seems like three hours while everyone passes around the controller just like a joint and everyone plays except Ashley ((who doesn't need to because she's funny)) and when you finally breathe your ribs hurt so badly they feel like they've collapsed. And how you love Cody. And how he means so much to you, and how you're so glad you know him. And how everyone is just acting like themselves, and you love that.
And today.
It's also awesome when....
it's your brother's birthday, and you swim all day and eat crab and burn him a very good CD and then Joey Beatty and Stan come over. And Joey and Stan come over. And they play with your nephew and make you and your best friend laugh, and Joey makes you feel beautiful when you're online that night, and you realize how much everybody means to you, and how much this world means to you, and how drunk one person can get off the combination of music and friends, and how dancing, even just once, can change your life, truly.
I have rented too many kids movies.
I love everyone who I have seen since Friday.