Wandering and Searching...
Another week, another town… I’m in Thunder Bay, wandering further and further from home as this business slowly drags me east.
The page is blank; the stories have yet to be written. The past is clouded and skewed by inaccurate memories and a selfish need to have it mean something. Something real…
I wander, searching for a purpose. Absurdly I expect to find something real in these rooms. Amidst the layers of fantasy and sequined dreams my curiosity inquires into the realities of these surroundings. Spoiled, I’m enjoying my afternoons in the coffee shop. I’m thankful to be distanced from the drama of the common change room. I like having my own space free from tension to dress, think, and prepare.
They call this closet a dressing room, small but private. The air is muggy and stagnant. The walls remind me of a first year art class. When mixing pure cadmium red and yellow the resulting cartoon flesh tone is primitive and vulgar. Too intense to be called peach, yet too muddied to be clever, the cheap layers of latex disguise the walls of this closet.
Sharpie messages provide a diversion from the impersonal atmosphere. There were other women here. I am reminded of Atwood as the phrase “Nolite te bastardes carborundorum” passes through my mind. But this moment is not fiction. These messages are from real women. Notes, dates, phone numbers and advice accent the walls. “Follow your heart and you’ll never be lost” is scribbled under the crooked shelf above my head. “Hello to all the beautiful ladies. Tour 2005” is inscribed over layers of dirt and makeup.
Costumes are littered in every corner as I sift through my options. What to wear? It’s always the question of the moment. I slowly paint my face, aware that my makeup is liquefying in the heat. I watch my eyes in the cracked mirror, seductive, and amused.
The weekend is approaching, and the bigger costumes will accompany the larger crowds. Stripper Christmas arrived yesterday in the form of new costumes. Feathers, sequins, and hats are providing a grand distraction from the lingering knowledge…
I’m lonely.
Centerfolds has been a good bar for me. The people are great, and it’s been a good week. Sunday I make the trek back to Winnipeg to spend another 6 days working my ass off, pretending to NOT think about Maverick or how nearby he is. It’s a lonely life on the road, although I do enjoy exploring. I love dancing, and work is going really well. I know I’m transient. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want to pay rent, or create a stable life yet. Sometimes it’s easier to choose to be alone, rather than face the conspicuous emotional distance and disappointment, unavoidable when illuminated by physical proximity. I’m not ready to face that detachment. Not yet. Thankfully there is too much I want to do while I have the freedom to wander.
Yes, there are moments when being a naked gypsy 3400 Km from home can become very lonesome.
The page is blank; the stories have yet to be written. The past is clouded and skewed by inaccurate memories and a selfish need to have it mean something. Something real…
I wander, searching for a purpose. Absurdly I expect to find something real in these rooms. Amidst the layers of fantasy and sequined dreams my curiosity inquires into the realities of these surroundings. Spoiled, I’m enjoying my afternoons in the coffee shop. I’m thankful to be distanced from the drama of the common change room. I like having my own space free from tension to dress, think, and prepare.
They call this closet a dressing room, small but private. The air is muggy and stagnant. The walls remind me of a first year art class. When mixing pure cadmium red and yellow the resulting cartoon flesh tone is primitive and vulgar. Too intense to be called peach, yet too muddied to be clever, the cheap layers of latex disguise the walls of this closet.
Sharpie messages provide a diversion from the impersonal atmosphere. There were other women here. I am reminded of Atwood as the phrase “Nolite te bastardes carborundorum” passes through my mind. But this moment is not fiction. These messages are from real women. Notes, dates, phone numbers and advice accent the walls. “Follow your heart and you’ll never be lost” is scribbled under the crooked shelf above my head. “Hello to all the beautiful ladies. Tour 2005” is inscribed over layers of dirt and makeup.
Costumes are littered in every corner as I sift through my options. What to wear? It’s always the question of the moment. I slowly paint my face, aware that my makeup is liquefying in the heat. I watch my eyes in the cracked mirror, seductive, and amused.
The weekend is approaching, and the bigger costumes will accompany the larger crowds. Stripper Christmas arrived yesterday in the form of new costumes. Feathers, sequins, and hats are providing a grand distraction from the lingering knowledge…
I’m lonely.
Centerfolds has been a good bar for me. The people are great, and it’s been a good week. Sunday I make the trek back to Winnipeg to spend another 6 days working my ass off, pretending to NOT think about Maverick or how nearby he is. It’s a lonely life on the road, although I do enjoy exploring. I love dancing, and work is going really well. I know I’m transient. I don’t want to settle down. I don’t want to pay rent, or create a stable life yet. Sometimes it’s easier to choose to be alone, rather than face the conspicuous emotional distance and disappointment, unavoidable when illuminated by physical proximity. I’m not ready to face that detachment. Not yet. Thankfully there is too much I want to do while I have the freedom to wander.
Yes, there are moments when being a naked gypsy 3400 Km from home can become very lonesome.
Labels: work
posted by Ryann @ 13:58
2 Comments:
At 2:34 PM,
Gadzie said…
Glad to hear work is good. Not that it's much, but I am still hear listening. (pun intented) Someday, I'd love to sit and have a cup of coffee with you. You geniunely seem like an interesting person and one that I would enjoy sitting and talking with. It must be beautiful country that you get to drive through each week. I haven't traveled out of the New England area except for one bus trip to St. Foy when I was younger to see about a girl. I truly am sorry to hear that your feeling lonely. It's hardest when your lonely in a roomful of people. I wish you the best till your reply or next post.
At 2:07 AM,
Anonymous said…
If your wandering about, know home, rented or owned, how can you be any amount of miles of something that doesn't exist. In a sense your never away from home. Maybe the town you prefer to be in, but not quite home, more of a "home town."
Less or more or same dispair, only you know that perhaps. Certainly a bit of a paradox, subconscience discourse even.
Regards,
Gölök Zoltán Buday
"Small Government's A Start" -- Gölök Z. L. F. Buday. (Seeking 2005 Vancouver Mayor's Seat, Sought in 2002 and 1996).
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