Sunday, January 18, 2004

tea & oil paint...

i need to do something. there is a ball of nervous tension right below my rib cage & a tingle in my fingers that won't go away. something needs to get out but i don't know how to do it.
i miss my cluttered little painting studio on houston & c. a place where i could disappear for a week and be alone while i figured things out- or at least lost myself in quiet moments of 'heather's reality' (which had very little to do with anything 'real')
some of my happiest moments have been sitting alone on that broken stool, wobbling back & forth in time to the music late at night (for some reason 'whiter shade of pale always ended up playing.)
the sticky stench of oil paint filling my lungs & coating my fingers. you have to taste it- something that smells that good can't be all that bad, right?... wrong- oils taste nasty & it's a tad poisonous too... but you just have to take a little lick to find out. sometimes more than once just to be sure. (and i wonder why i have mental problems!?)
i found a newspaper clipping of my first solo venture into 'society' the other day. i was 9 & went an 'afternoon tea for the young ladies (& their favorite doll) of west 5th ave' given by mrs. adele tranter in warren, pa. it was to celebrate the restoration of 'our' restored 2-story playhouse that was nestled in the english gardens behind her house- built at the turn of the century & complete with lattice enclosed front porch & window boxes overflowing with flowers & ivy. the fact that there were 5 or 6 big wheels parked outside everyday of the summer in no way distracted from its charm. if anything it reinforced the idea that little girls in 1976 could play in the mud, mix up poisonous concoctions to feed our little brothers & STILL wear pretty dresses & behave like ladies as we served tea to our dolls & stuffed animals.
nothing is like it used to be.

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