she felt that some secrets were best left in a basement trunk, storing photos in the smell of cedar and dust, that the world began dictating what was most important sometime after she had children. money wore black leather and had a bullwhip.
love, it seemed had been lost on a trans-world airline between nigeria and italy, dropped like samsonite luggage into the friendly skies. at about this same moment, the stewardess, now called an associate in the present day and age, offered champagne and a german man was arrogantly and rudely trying to get in her panties.
she could not seem to refuse either, having no boundries, or the ability to refuse free alcohol.she regreted sleeping with the german man.
although it would appear that she had no concern for anyone, the truth is she was trying to eliminate herself, without any tools except the ones her mamma handed her, which was "marry well"
this did not translate into any dicernable language that she could understand.Often she found herself at the mercy of webster s dictionary or crying to her granny.
Granny had also married well. The fact that she had loved someone that could not and would not provide for her was a stain that she could seem to wash out of the sheets, so she burned them, and abandoned the bed she loved him in on the beach by the river.
She went back once and a small child was jumping up and down on it, she smiled one of those resigned smiles, the kind that used to make him crazy.
She sought God, she went to yoga classes, lifted weights changed her diet many times, got fat, skinny muscualr, none of these ideas seemed to change what was bothering her.
her polish friend said "Wat, What do you want with him anyways"
Her indian friends said"he is such a dark soul"
and her artist friends said"yeah we all hoped he would get it together someday, but..."
so she sold her farm and moved to portland, where she burned and etched beautiful images into zinc and copper plates. Then she printed them with the mean and angry lesbians that did not really like anyone except thier own little circle of friends, that was it !! she thought, "if that bitch pushes me away from the press one more time im going to freak out"
No one was really sure what that meant or what that looked like, but the general feeling was, that it was best to keep the beautiful tall and all nerves energy gurl out of the freak out zone. alas in some ways she had some control there.
this night she was a bit restless and wanted some of that old fashioned lovin, the stuff that dreams are made out of, and the braided biker was gliding around somewhere else, and she began to wonder about love, and if it was real.
The cats all took position each night on every side of her, and the birds came to the window to wake her up. the other morning there was a woodpecker, and a robin. Made the cats crazy when it came to the window.
the printmaking teacher had a wicked witch like laugh, and did this tee hee tee hee thing rather frequently, it was disturbing to the sensative artists in the room. In the painting class there was daniel that insisted on playing the very wrost of all punk rock during the class. she had had a conflict with him about that. He did not like it when anyone had a different opinon, and certainly did not like the idea "Of the greater whole" or compromise, save for his talent as a painter he was a pyschotic episode waiting to happen.colombine in his eyes when ever anyone did not agree with him. scary guy. so painting class was not real comfortable these days.
she was sure that when she walked out of the university tonight that something very awesome was going to happen, she just did not know what.
so she had to let him know that she loved him. and even if she never saw him again, it would be worth it to tell him so.
it was as if she were walking along, and the lost luggage of 1984 has been found, and that now she was sure that she could open it, if she could remeber the combination.
sometimes she was rather absent minded and this might take a bit of time, so she decided to allow for that.
she was sure the mean lesbians and the printmaking teacher were in a fine judgemental and pre-alcoholic stae this evening, not having had thier prescribed drinks yet, wondering where she was, and what she was doing.
daniel was busy trying to control this beautiful little painter girl from the class, he had convinced her that she needed to not talk to the other women in class.
the relationship seemed at best "strained"
so she stayed, determined to let ARt tell her what to do next.