ghosts of your own

It was a Wednesday, and the sun was out, warm, warmer than it had been for months. It was the beginning of spring, and to look at the picture, you’d think we were in love. He was about 6’4, and I was four inches shorter than he, and she was four inches short than I, so as a group, we looked like an awkward staircase of long hair and flannel shirts. 

We were sitting on a large plastic dinosaur, it was a children’s park, and this fellow boasted a pretty tubular-looking spiral slide. He sat on the dinosaur’s head, I was on his lap, and she sat on me; we had all skipped our afternoon classes. We took the day for ice cream and a disposable camera, most of the pictures taken by children and mothers. It felt good to stand firm on the ground, and not sink into the sludge of post-snow winter. This was the day we made tacos for dinner, and drank an excellent branch of Yeungling named - regally - Lord Chesterfield. Before the park, I had a class or two, and so did the both of them, but we all could sleep in late, in our respective apartments and dormitories, before we met up on a walk to the last class of the day. 

“Do you want to skip and go to the park?”

“Yes.”

“Always.”

So we did. Something about spring, something about a warm sun and a hearty pair of corduroys, although you other two wore jeans, and just something about an unzipped jacket that almost hurts, it feels so good. I’ve seen a lot of great things come and go, relationships, family, accomplishments and goals and all, but in complete honest, I’ve always counted this to be the best day of my life. There’s just something about the sun after winter. 

I don’t mind forgetting.  I’ve always had a bad memory and, frankly, don’t we all have those moments in life we wish we could forget?

When I do remember, the scenes are vivid. The colors turned up like an episode of Pushing Daisies, photographs of a teenager who just discovered Photoshop.  My memory is an experiment in film processes that I can only dream up.  Sounds and scents play huge roles in my memory as well; acting as portals to another life.  A simple photograph couldn’t do some of those moments justice.

I was never big on photographs because of this.  Forgetting the color of someone’s shirt was okay because the memory became larger than life.  The details were secondary, my feelings took to the forefront. 

I’ve noticed I’m really good at remembering clothes..  When I broke my leg, I would not let them tear through the jeans I was wearing because they were my favorite at the time.  I also was wearing my red Drew hoodie, which became a safety net after that night.  I do not own anything cozier than that beat up maroon pullover, mostly because it hugged me throughout the entire night in the emergency room and most of time in the months to follow. 

At one of the shows that changed my life, I was wearing my favorite red dress with a cropped denim jacket.  I remember going alone and feeling awkward, but found safety in that jacket.  It’s silly, but true.  I remember my nerves overwhelming me, making the lights brighter and the sounds louder, the ambiance of the Lanes enhanced with the history of every show I’d seen there.  I felt like they were all happening at once, all the faces and songs simultaneously appearing, floating in and out.  A history that was just as alive as I.  I remember getting up on the stage, blinded by lights, and pouring out my heart to a person I never thought would care I existed.  The safety of my jacket extended, I felt safe and confident in my choices for the first time in a long time.
 
I don’t need photographs of those nights.  The colors and sounds are burned into my brain.  I just need to close my eyes and I’m there.  Even if those memories are pieced together by the shock of snapping my leg in half or the anxiety of facing the world on my own, I’ve replayed them so many times, I could not forget them if I tried.  I will never forget the teal and purple fish painted on the ceiling of the emergency room, or the way the giant red lanterns that dot the ceiling of the Lanes look from the stage.  I’ve learned words are a lot easier to maneuver than f-stops anyway.

It’s been a crazy busy week over here and I figured everywhere else as well.  Prompt #2 is now extended until next week!

For a refresher, here’s the prompt again:

I have a picture
of you and me in Brooklyn.
On a porch, it was raining.
Hey, I remember that day.
And I miss you.

For week two:  Is there a picture you have that immediately brings you back to a moment in your life? If not, what moment in your life do you wish you had a picture of? Include the picture (Or a drawing, an item, some image that triggers the memory) and tell us about it!

Thanks to everyone who submitted this week, awesome work all around!

This week’s prompt is inspired by Do You Still Hate Me? by Jawbreaker.

I have a picture
of you and me in Brooklyn.
On a porch, it was raining.
Hey, I remember that day.
And I miss you.

For week two:  Is there a picture you have that immediately brings you back to a moment in your life? If not, what moment in your life do you wish you had a picture of? Include the picture (Or a drawing, an item, some image that triggers the memory) and tell us about it!

Submit here.

Where do we go from here? Who’s callin’ our names tonight? I’ve always heard that Austin, Texas was really nice. 

If we try we might make it by tomorrow night. Where do we go from here? Who’s callin’ our names tonight? I’ve always heard New York City was might fine. 

We could drink our troubles away on the Lower East Side. Where do we go from here? Who’s callin’ our names tonight? I’m feelin’ Minneapolis, would that be alright?

Where do we go from here?

Who’s callin’ our names tonight? 

Let’s just pack up and skip town, alright?.

Today is your last chance to write about your dream home. Tomorrow, there will be a new prompt! Submit here.

You are driving in the middle of nowhere- Upstate New York, Montana, Vermont, or Colorado (I haven’t decided yet- I’ll decide after I drive cross country), and you turn down a small, unassuming side road that has a simple post with a sign- the symbol burnt into it an amalgamation of 1 and the infinity symbol. 

After driving a few moments, you come to a small parking area. There is a beat up old van sitting there patiently. You park and walk up the path at the end of the drive, the path bespeckled with glints of sunshine shimmering through the leaves of the trees around you. You walk for a good while before you come to a sunny clearing, a hill directly in front of you.

Jutting out from the Hill is a building, unlike anything you’ve ever seen. 

from what you can see, it is a stumpy dodecahedron with a large, sloping roof. to your left is an annex with lots of windows, but the path you are following curves right. Following it, you come to a wedge in the hill the walls holding back earth seemingly opening for an embrace of the southern sky. Judging by what you can see, the building is half sunk into the earth. 

You walk along a slate path, through the open arms of the entrance, and come to a large wooden door. You open this and notice the slate continuing into the house. You look up and there are long, thin skylights that increase in frequency as you walk. When you reach the end of the entrance, you are at the edge of a large greenhouse; there is no roof here, just glass, and there are plants and a small pond with a waterfall. You notice vegetables and herbs mixed in with beautiful flowers, and again, a slate path to a patio in the middle with a dining table and chairs.

Directly to your right is what can only be a living area, with a slightly sloped 20 foot ceiling. The walls all around the house stop at 10 feet, with natural wooden supports to the ceiling. The outside walls are mixed and layered browns and tans- rammed earth.The inner walls are whitewashed. All of the building materials are natural; wood, stone, earth. Splashes of colour from the decorations keep it lively. 

The livingroom is separated from the kitchen by a tall countertop from the outside wall to the strip of walkway around the greenhouse. It’s counter is wood, upon a base of slate. walking around the greenhouse’s edge (which is separated from the rest of the house by natural wood columns and a short slate wall), you notice there is a door leading out of the kitchen, but you’ll look at that later. There is also a loft above the Kitchen, which is an extra bedroom, which can be entered through a stairway in the livingroom. Walking on, there is a wall separating you from the next room, which is The Guest Bedroom. 

The next room is the library. on your level, there is a desk, and shelves laden with books.the desk is set against a wall, and on either side of the desk there are stairs going up 10 feet to the annex, which holds a sitting area featuring a hammock, couches, chairs, a fireplace, and yet more books. all of this is bathed in light from the skylights, which continued on from the greenhouse over the library and into the annex. The side walls of the annex have floor to ceiling windows, the back wall is nothing but glass with large sliding doors, and a deck stretching out behind it. 

Continuing on, counterclockwise around the greenhouse, you pass another wall, onto the master bedroom, which opens up to the greenhouse but has curtains that can be closed for privacy. There is a large bed covered in down blankets, wool blankets, quilts, every blanket imaginable (I love blankets). One wall has a large dresser against it with a mirror above, surrounded by paintings and bizarre knickknacks from travels around the world. a hand-made carpet adorns the warm wooden floor in front of the bed. There is a round fire place with a chimney reaching for the ceiling in front of the bed, to keep the room warm during the winter.

Turning to the door on the wall to the right, the room that is the wall you passed before the Master Bedroom, you enter a bathroom. The floor is slate, you can tell it would be cool to the pads of your feet were you to walk over it bare foot. Looking in front of you, there is a large room with a skylight, and lights from the windows at floor level flooding the room with light. on the farther wall, there is a large wooden tub set into the ground. The shower is simply a shower head hanging down from the ceiling over a few boulders set into the floor, with a drain in the middle. There is a large vanity with a huge sink against the outer wall, all of the fixtures are copper. 

Exiting, you continue your circumnavigation of the greenhouse. The next room has a loft, with a spiral staircase leading up. Downstairs is a Studio, with everything from canvasses to looms, a spinning wheel, heaps of yarn and fibre, cloth, a sewing machine, paint everywhere, and a large collection of choice art history and artist books from the library for inspiration. A Hammock is swung carelessly in a corner, ready for a nap or just to lay in when a break is needed. Upstairs is an extra room. 

Back to the Kitchen, you go through the door to find a long hallway lined with shelves; the pantry. The shelves are filled with pots, pans, and dry goods. Sacks of flour, jars and jars of preserved foods such as pickles, jams, jellies. Dried fruits and mushrooms, sugar, spices. Following these shelves, you come to a stairway that leads to a covered path, it’s roof only barely above ground level, with windows lining the very top of it to keep the path well-lit. You then reach a second stairway, which ends up in a barn. The barn has many animals; A Cow, a few Sheep, an Alpaca, Angora Rabbits, Goats, A large black horse, and a large white horse. Just outside are a few coops, conning chickens, ducks, and pheasants. Connected to the barn is a large pasture that includes everything from a small stream, to some woods on the farther end, and a sunny field. Not too far away from the barn is a large vegetable garden, and even further on, an orchard. 

Nestled not too far beyond the orchard is a small cottage, which was the original house on the property and now is used as an extra studio and guest house. 

It is one of my goals to be completely self-sufficient one day, and this dream house will help me to accomplish that. I want to build as much of it myself as I can, and even if I cannot build all of the house myself, I plan on designing it, and being involved in every aspect of the building process. I want to plant every part of the garden myself, raise the animals, and build the furniture from scratch. I have a preoccupation with doing things from beginning to end, or at least being involved in the steps, and this house will be the culmination of that Ideal.