Wednesday, June 29, 2005

Relentless caper for all those who step/The legend of their youth into the noon

I had to leave work early yesterday. It's like being sprung--Shawshank Redemption--out the door, the heat was obliterating. Yep, the "famous" Washington summer has begun, ladies and germs. I emerged from the building, unaccustomed to the light and the heat, squinting. I always feel like I need to walk slow, nonchalant, and then bolt for my car. It's that whole prisoner mentality. Work=prison. Not such a good equation.

Opening my car door was like opening the gates of hell, all fire 'n brimstone. The glide home, so unfamiliar, what am I doing heading home midday, the sheer decadence and freedom of it. We old Clydesdales don't drift off schedule very often. And like an old Clydesdale, sometimes I just stand in the middle of the field, confused not to have the harness and bit on.

My house was wonderfully shaded and cool--strong air conditioning and all the blinds drawn like a cool refuge in a Tennessee Williams play. Which was PERFECT since "Sweet Bird of Youth" was on. OH MAN.

When I come home early I always make myself a grilled cheese sandwich. It clearly represents some sort of home/comfort/middle of the day treat. I had my tidy li'l grilled cheese sandwich and sat in front of the TV and on came The Bird. Could NOT resist going down camptown lane with the dee-vine Geraldine Page. LOVE HER IN THAT MOVIE. Such beautiful hands and skin--translucent, marvelously o'er the top. Like more fun than Norma Desmond in many ways. She says the most hilarious things. Like at one point she is really concerned about Paul Newman and she says to him, "Chance, the most wonderful thing just happened to me, I just had a feeling for someone other than myself!" Ooooo, there are some great lines in there. They say it's about how you can't recapture your youth and that Tennessee drew heavily from his own experiences and that Princess is based on Tallullah Bankhead. God, what's not to love? The quote for this entry (see above) is from a poem by Williams' favorite poet, Hart Crane. The lines were an inscription to the play. Crane's work focussed on the notion of a "usable past," the idea of using your own personal history as metaphor and material for art. We like that. Write what ya know! Even if you're a fucked up weirdo. No, ESPECIALLY if you're a fucked up weirdo.

Princess--Alexandra Del Lago--is so repulsive and delusional--all the good things we can count on Tennessee Williams for--dragging us through the emotional rot and scourge of faded, wasted youth, delusions of grandeur, selfishness, and shocking weird sexual afflictions and mutilations like venereal disease, unspeakables, castrations, etc.

Let me just say, that any day I can come home during an inferno Washington summer and retreat into my Blanche DuBois cave (lemon Coke optional) and watch a splendid pink hued movie with Geraldine Page gnawing the scenery and Paul Newman looking his most adorable, earnest, pathetic gigolo self, is a good day. Topped with the melted yellow goodness of American processed cheese between slices of mushy whole wheat. Southern Comfort indeed.

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