Wednesday, March 19, 2008
Sharpen Your Teeth on a Jumble of Memories
I’d forgotten how much Ugly Casanova reminds me of Montreat. All it takes is “Smoke was pulled in ribbons from the windows of your car…” and I’m instantly back in the humid sleeping porch, the taste of Cheer Wine in my mouth, lazily scribbling in my book of ideas. The orange one, with the gridded pages. I finished that one a long time ago. I’m sixteen, or even fifteen, again, angry at the world, and glad to escape for a while to North Carolina. I’m sitting next to Lauren in the living room of the old, crooked house, writing, or playing guitar, while she draws a random picture, using up the last of her green-gray ink. “Bones of my ink,” she calls the picture. “Smells like autumn, smells like leaves, you don’t know that you’ll rust and not belong so much and then get left alone…” and I’m smelling the scent of pine in the muggy rain, walking down that steep, steep hill, exploring trails and bridges. Avoiding choir practice, getting beyond drunk on what turned out to be moonshine, and sleeping on stone walls in front of the general store with hideous hangovers. “Turns out the pony only had one trick…” Having an argument in front of the library, storming off in a dramatic huff, then feeling silly and making up. Lauren’s long hair fans out behind her. Next year, it’s above her chin, English-urchin style. Vague attempts at socializing with the other kids, with whom we don’t fit in at all. Noticing that they all look alike, the girls with ponytails, tank tops, and shorts, the boys with baseball caps, that preppie bowl-cut, and cargo shorts. Wondering why. Pretending to be the female versions of Ozzie Osborne and Bob Dylan. “The parasites are excited when you’re dead…” and puking our brains out in front of all those kids, due to the effects of the moonshine. Unsuccessfully hiding it from the grownups. “They said they’d give me everything, here’s the part that made me laugh: They didn’t give me anything, and they took half of that…” Taking random pictures of Lauren and Patrick with cream sodas, dogs, windows, waterfalls, and other random settings. Eating glowing gummy worms and large ice cream cones. Feeling awkward around Lauren and Patrick. “I lay down with the southern range…” Exploring Lake Susan with them, still not sure what to make of Patrick. Black nail polish and dog-collars, in an act of defiance against all the preppies. “Soon as I can walk, I walk out the door and never stop…” Harmonizing to Queen and snapping pictures of Lauren and Patrick whenever they got… awkward on the drive back. Blue Ridge, and breakfasting to the strains of the Pixies’ Surfer Rosa. And then, the depressing anticlimax: Going home. “So long to the holidays….”Spudge at 7:26 PM