Wednesday, 16 January 2013

The morning light.



I wrote down these words, took these photographs and cobbled them together with these pictures and paintings a year ago, that's all.
Monday January 16th  2012; after 9am, before 10am.




It is light like this, this light, that through the crystal January cold air, makes you wish and feel like you should be in Edward Hopper’s New England. Not Swansea’s Mount Pleasant. Ipod, shuffling, has up to five chances to offer something I agree with, or, as my invented rules dictate, I’ll have to go to the menu and decide for myself.

1. Kings of Convenience – Homesick (3.17), nah, not to walk to work with, somehow. 2. Jimi Hendrix Experience – Pre-concert interview (20.58!) gah! Hate it when I plan on tidying up the library of lengthy interviews and articles numerous times and fail to thoroughly. 3. The Shins – Pam Berry (0.57) it’s too early to be a lyric detective, and the track too short to settle. 4. Peter Frampton – Wind of Change (2.45) nice length, but it’s live and the fellow in the audience who yells “yeah” in that drunk way to the words “itchy fingers” isn’t making me laugh today, and that loud bang after the first “take me away” makes me jump every time.. Jeeze Ipod, you failure, come on man! 5. Lou Reed - Perfect Day (3.45), again, nice length, but we want to walk, not be depressed, because I’m on to you Lou, it’s not a perfect day at all is it?! Now I have to make an affirmative decision, chrissakes machine, it’s only 9.15am! 

Song menu is already at the “I’ve” tracks, so I listen to Sinatra’s “I’ve got you under my skin”.
Because really, I have, nostalgic light.

This makes for a sombre walk to work, but at least I’m walking. I’m taken back, by ol’ blue eyes, to A1, or, year 12. We were having a much-needed roof-fix/kitchen upgrade at the time, it made showering at home out of the question (I used to shower bi-daily then, for 30+ minutes at a time, grimy teen!). Plus I’m always uncomfortable with new people in the house, it’s as if my mind goes “hey, we’re  (body and I) not 100% comfortable with the fam, the people that have to love us, any further additions perilous”. 

So I stayed in my maternal grandparents’ house, making the walk to school even shorter, and the fact that the house was empty from my waking – 6pm made it seem, for a short but daily window of time, that I was alone and independent. My grandfather has lots of 40s and 50s jazz, swing and pop, so I’d listen to them and dance around the spacious home (Sometimes I’d grace my small-timetabled classes with my presence, sometimes).

I’m not half way through my sixteenth year, newly downsized my subjects of study to three. Art, Psychology, French, vital preparation for my post-college life in Paris, as a sympathetically enlightened painter/curator/librarian, whatever affords my bohemian lifestyle. Thanks to September’s visit to Brecon, calling on Aunty Caryl and her breast tumour, I’ve recently discovered Earl Grey tea. Thanks to new and novel access to the internet and free music, I’ve also found Jazz, and, as a kind of companion to this, G&T and also Port. I'm not cool enough for Bourbon at this juncture. It is the Autum/Winter of 2005. An important year, among other things it saw my first ever train journey, with parents of course (day after my 16th; birthday, on 7/7, Santander-Madrid).
The mood is sombre, lugubrious now.  Yet the air is sometimes pierced with sudden bursts of pure optimism, possibility.  Sometimes. I’m in love (or in love with the idea of loving and being loved) with the Yates twins of year 13. Yes, both of them. Both have girlfriends, so, perhaps my odds are slightly better in choosing to aim for both. My aim is skewed by awkwardness, fear, and a hell of a lot of hair. I haven’t had a hair cut in years and I think some people are uncomfortable with it. It is always clean for them at least.... The twins are comparatively naked. Lee (my preferred di-zygotic sibling), thanks to his fair complexion and shaved head is practically Albino. Why do I prefer the “bald” one? Who knows, perhaps it’s for the fact that his girlfriend has a lazy eye, easier competition - probability striking again? Perhaps it’s because his brother’s short dirty blonde hair creates just that much more shadow, giving his (/their) slightly protruding brow more of an air of Matt Groening’s Moe Szyslak… (Correct, the other one was a bald Moe… ah the follies of youth)

 

Maybe it’s because Adam’s girlfriend is the trampy (that could really be them ^) sister of lovely born-again Louise of my art class, making Adam, by default, of poor judgement, I don’t know, that could also be a plus for me! Who really knows, maybe I actually like the criminal/skinhead look; maybe to my “gypsy-looking-ness” it’s rebellious and daringly seductive in that other side of the fence sort of way.

Either way, it’s futile.
I'm just a bit too odd and intense.
Oh Frank, my admiration of your jazzy swing almost exacerbates my uncoolnes, somehow. I am sorry Mr. Sinatra, we've lost that Zing which rung around both our heartstrings…

Woe is I. Woe was my indecent amount of black hair, my too-much mascara around my too-wide-staring eyes. Frank and I never had a chance with either Adam or Lee Yates. 
Though I am glad that with a lot less hair now, I have slightly bettered my judgement, not sure there’s a correlation. At the time it was nevertheless painful. I wanted someone else’s ideas of love and I needed those someones as friends. Instead I just listened, sipped, painted… Dawdling.





Hmm... So, that's that. Some of last years rumination. Rejoice, I'm not as pathetic this 16th of January! 
Good day.