at KROQ’s Inland Invasion concert. marc almond is on the main stage. “this is our last number!” he bellows as tainted love begins. his pasty, tattoed, aging body flails and he’s corny and his movements are exaggerated and… i used to worship him. the sun is still baking us, all 65,000 people who scrambled for tickets that sold out in record time. i am pulling on the sun to set already, my forehead eternally moist. sunscreen evaporated, tongue dry.
today tsafi and i went hiking with elinor to runyon canyon. a rambling dog parade, a good morning workout. bmw’s and mercedes’ lines the dead end to the park. lavendar stalks and calla lilies lined the entrance. we took photos with the hollywood sign behind us.
saw the film ‘frida’ tonight. her spirit…incredible. so unforgettable that they wrote a script about it. one woman, touched. i question my 80-year-old self, reflecting back, fanning my veiled current life phase. it used to run rampant, this creative puncture, hedonististic dedication. hours spent in a darkroom, smiling at magick made in water held up to red safelights, a prize. i dishonor myself when i don’t create, don’t nurture. i beg for a cat, a baby or a plant. i say it as a joke but i mean it…i have too much love in me. forcing the sliding doors…in time, in time… first, nesting…
it’s so easy to slip into nesting/newlywed life…i forget parts of myself… parts i’m unwilling to let go of…parts to be remembered when i leave this life…i want to print pictures again.