I often find myself haunting Downtown streets in invisibility mode. Watching my world like an interesting movie. Meaningless meanderings. But habit all the same.
Sunset on the Avenue and a new era is beginning. Remember how you wondered when you’d wake up and feel like a grown up someday? It finally happened last night as I watched my daughter’s concert. All of these high school hopes onstage anxious and impatient for lives not yet begun.
Meanwhile, I discover that I am not a movie myself.
Rather, a long running series with twists and turns, but an established arc. I find I like the latest cast of characters. Although the plot sometimes leaves a bit to be desired.
Sunsets painted on the Avenue in periwinkle and rose and amber watercolors. Lives painted in various shades of blue and grey.
…and the girls we once were float down the River to time and go under. Drowned, we all assume.
But then again…lots of unexplained, feminine looking, sword brandishing hands emerging from the misty waters in these stories…had to have come from somewhere, originally…it’s not as though they ever found the bodies…dead is not always so very dead in faery tales…
Strange dreams and disrupted R.E.M. Sleep as a direct result of bizarre Jungian reading material…
Found a copy of a book I read when I was 17 or thereabouts. I remember the gist of it, but none of the actual story.
Forgot what an esoteric MythoLiterary Geek I used to be…
I asked for an Oxford Unabridged dictionary for Christmas when I was 15 and improvised a TV Tray podium for it and the purloined single volume patent leather bound Complete Works of Shakespeare that I had snuck off the family reference shelf to read for fun in moments of idle brooding.
I used to keep a photocopied black and white portrait of Percy Shelley in my notebook the way most teenage girls pin up bubblegum idols. Ask Lizzie. Lizzie was way more Lord Byron. Coincidentally, or maybe notsomuch, Bowie around that time did a short film for the “Blue Jean” extended video in which he played a character called “Screaming Lord Byron.”
The fish ate Shelley’s face. That’s how he died, or rather he drowned in Italy, but by the time they found his body the fish had eaten his face. It seemed important to us at the time, but of course by then he’d have been long dead anyway…
Dreamt my mother called me at an odd hour. I jokingly asked who’d died,but
she didn’t laugh. I know it wasn’t my father, because I could hear him in
the background. Then I dreamt Mike called me up and reamed me out and
swore at me (at least I HOPE it was a dream) at about 4:15 am and then
that I was in a hospital parking lot trying to get child leukemia patients
back to their rooms. Before that, I think I dreamt something about setting
up a new laptop in my new apartment, which was part of a large house with
an attic and a school downstairs.Also, there was something about renting
movies at Casa and watching them around a campfire in the desert, with the
movies being projected onto the side of a boulder. That part was kind of
cool. Woke up just as disconnected and dissociated and lonely and sad and
aware of my poverty as ever, but with a lingering sense of calm and
eventual comfort. Things may suck beyond all reason right now, but someday
they’ll be better, unless I die and if I die it’s not like I’ll be around
to complain, right? Still haven’t heard back on the part time “job offer”
I interviewed about last week. I may call back about that today. If they
don’t want me, they don’t want me, but if they’re on the fence about it at
all, well…I could definitely use the money and no one seems to have any
convincing objections to it, so…
Not a creature was stirring…
Not a creature was stirring…
My moonlight was weightless
it bore me aloft
knew my sadness before it had a name
left me sleepless and awaiting answers
from one who slept days away in paralell madness
Lunacy is the goddess’ kiss
her mark upon your brow
alien and strange
She brings you words you must be rid of
and dreams you cannot shake
and showers you in broken glass
as you drift back into oblivion
And if I am an ocean wave poised to drown you…step back and listen for my voice in seashells…