Thursday, May 27, 2010
May Trip/Part Three: A Balcony Scene
Mama J says it looks like someone gave this horse a real good kick in the rear. At the time, I just thought it one of the better pieces at the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center in Austin, TX. Now I see it and I laugh.
8. Sometimes one of your cousins gets married and you have to sit through an outdoor wedding--but it has some surprises.
I love surprises at events that would otherwise be hot and uneventful. Who doesn't love an impish little cousin who takes off during the ceremony? The ever-present threat of rain that comes out of nowhere? Oh, and the relatives that just don't fit in and have no particular want to, the same ones who end up at a table together...they were talking sh*t too good to miss. Little Bo Peep would have taken the crook to her black sheep.
But I think what I liked most of all about the general atmosphere of the wedding was the admittedly geekish theme that kept peeking through. Star Wars played into the music and the intros. In what was, otherwise, a very, well, shall we say "upscale" ceremony that tried to look modest, our family's geek showed through. Gotta love that! We are a family of sci-fi, if nothing else.
9. I have a soulmate, and it can never be.
The details of this are a secret, naturally. But when I could I slipped away from the wedding and went to stand on the balcony overlooking a meadow.
There I felt him in the rising wind. I could imagine those stone walls were protecting me, merely keeping me in wait of his return. If I looked across the meadow long enough I could see him riding--but always away. And I forever wished the wind to be at his back. So it was that I willed my spirit to be the wind...the air that guided him, protected him, whispered of enemies unseen.
That's all I can ever be to him.
Every once in a while we cross paths. We live and die in those moments. We're drawn and are thus compelled to be repelled. Time isn't stolen; it's torture and rapture.
Night came. The path to the balcony was lit, as you can see, but the meadow was dark. It took me a little while to adjust. But the wind was there all the time.
When I wander off by myself, people tend to think me strange. Maybe I am. Ah, but to stand on the balcony at night and think of him with the wind in my hair... I think back on it now and my heart aches to return.
I'll remember my cousin's wedding, if only for the balcony scene.
10. If you go to the Alamo Drafthouse in Austin, Texas--go early.
You might see something weird or really funny. Take, for example, this picture of Marky Mark. I took one picture in the Alamo Drafthouse. The candle is for orders, and so you can pay in the dark, later. All I was thinking about was taking a pic of the theater...totally random. The place stood empty since we were early. And I got a memorial-looking photo of Mark.
They put on music videos, short documentaries--just funny stuff--before the movie. Even their "shut your phone off" run-through made me laugh. Just show up ahead of time. Food and drinks were novel for me, too. Crazy Austin.
11. Sometimes a crow flies over your head and lands on the van nearby just as you arrive at the Kimbell. So you take a picture. And then you get a little weirded out by the statue in front of the museum when you walk up to it. So you take another picture and compare them later.
The statue outside the Kimbell Museum--Fort Worth, TX.
Is it just me or is that trippy? Yeah.
12. I want Peter Paul Rubens' confidence.
There's a quote next to the Oil on Panel I showed in closeup in my last blog post. Rubens once confessed, "My talent is such that no undertaking in size, or how varied in subject, has ever exceeded my confidence and courage.”
I want to be so skilled that I can confess this. So I continue to learn. I write. And I'll never stop. I am a writer or I am a dead writer. If I'm smart and lucky, I'll be a great writer. We'll see.
A preview of Part 4...
Michelangelo's first painting, "The Torment of Saint Anthony." He painted it at age twelve or thirteen. The painting is recently acquired by the Kimbell in Ft. Worth, TX and the first by Michelangelo to enter an American collection.