Saturday, September 18, 2010

Tomorrow and Tomorrow's Morrow's Morrow

My aunt says you've started the blog.  Thanks again for doing this.  Not sure what I hope to get from this, grasping at straws really.  Where did that come from?  I mean, who would want to grab straw to begin with let alone grasp for it.

Anywhat, back to filling you and the viewers in on how I got to know Solange and what I think happened to her.

After Solange dropped me off, I spent all night, when conscious anyway, thinking about how impossible it would be to teach someone to do what I do.  I mean I'm still not sure how or why I time travel when I pass out.  Although due to Solster's departure I think I have a better idea.  Long evening short, I stressed all night trying to think of how exactly I did what I did and how I might share it with Solange.  I mean, what living teenage guy wouldn't jump through whatever hoops necessary to make a woman like Solange happy. [bleh, yes my sister was or hopefully is something else but give me a break she pukes like all of us do after one too many shots of jager]

Upon seeing Solange the next day, after much blushed faced hemming and hawing, I blurted out the fact that I hadn't a fricken clue as to how or why i travelled through time.  I'm not sure what I expected her reaction to be - forgetting I even existed, being called a fake, disappointment surely.  But no, Solange simply stared at me for a moment.  Then she gently told me to take it easy and said we'd just have to treat it like a science problem and experiment away until the 'Voila!' solution was discovered.  Your her sis, did Solange ever get phased or pissed of? [Nope cool as a cucumber, Solie didn't get pissed.  She just got even or ignored whomever managed to irk her.]

For the rest of the day, and practically every day that followed, save those unfortunate holidays that required familial attention or dates that found Solange busy with work or taking her lil sister to swim meets - How's the swimming going by the by? - [broke a minute in 100 meter flutterby last meet so i'd say kick ass]
we experimented.

First we tried her holding my hands, staying in physical contact, until and during the times I'd fade off into the wild past yonder. 

This was fun, what am I saying this was greater than fun!  I had never been held by a girl before Solange.  So at first it was rather embarrasing what with my shaking and oh so sweaty palms.  I'm surprised I didn't die of dehydration let alone embarrasement.  Solange tried to ease my nervousness by telling me to relax.  When that didn't work, she shocked me further by grabbing me and kissing me hard.  After I was able to bring my jaw up from the ground, it actually worked.  I was no longer stupified by her physical presence.  From then on, touching Solange was a peace of cake, still a thrill but nothing to lose my cool over, it wasy rather mundane after all when compared to the feeling of her lips.

Experimenting with Solange was more than fun. I felt great falling asleep holding her hand or leaning against her breast, resting my head in her lap, and greater still opening my eyes to find her still there staring at me with a smile.  My trips were fabulous too.  We spent the time when I was coherent talking about French authors I had never heard of, museums Solange loved to troll around in when visiting her grandparents that I got to see at different times.  She'd tell me about a play or movie I had to see and I'd thank her for a wonderful trips of entertainment.  Solange understood my fear of ending up in the midst of an air raid or frontal assault, so we kept our conversation to relatively safe eras.  Although, Solange did have a fascination for speakeasys and due to that fascination I did witness an old school mob war on the streets of Chicago right outside Club Lucky.

When we weren't talking about the past,  I'd occasionally get Solange to open up and share bits about herself.  She's still a mystery to me mind you, but at least I knew she loved the smell of lavender and the color fuscia.  I could tell she loved fashion and fabric because her eyes lit up.  No really they did, not a figure of speech, truly light up whenever she'd share her latest design ideas.  She seemed almost Zen simply a matter of fact regarding other life's happenings.  School was school, something that had to be done.  Family was family and nothing that involved her sister or parents was a chore.  She detested sports but enjoyed watching her sister compete.  Solange had a smoky laugh that sounded like a fifty year aged bottle of bourbon and she only seemed to frown when deep in thought; more like a slight grimace than a perturbed frown.

Also got to know Rob and Crash pretty well.  Not that I had anything to compare it too, not knowing anyone really before meeting Solange, but I think we became friends or at least acquaintance friends.  I learned to take Crash's sarcasm as humor rather than slight and got quite a lot of laughs out of listening to him, and came to expect a witty remark or retort from Rob whenever he was quiet in the conversation for more than a few minutes.  While we spent most of the time alone kicking it on a bench near the Mission or sitting in her back yard or on the bleachers listening to the splash of swimmers stroking back and forth during practice, Solange often had a hankering for a doughnut and cup of coffee so some of  our time together was spent outside Sunshine with the likes of Solange's coworkers.  I suppose with our holding hands at all times and being seen together, we might have been mistaken as an item.  Crash certainly razzed the two of us about being a couple.  He certainly got my goat and I denied it as much as I wished it were true.  Solange on the other hand would just chuckle or smile and let Crash believe what ever  he chose to believe. 

We never told anyone about our expirements.  Well at least I didn't nor did I hear Solange talk about it with anyone, it's not like i was with her 24/7 though.  Given the opportunity, I would have jumped at such a chance.  After all, I had no life other than plodding day to day from one time to the next, my presence was rather non existant until Solange found me.  Unfortunately, we generally just met after school and occasionally on the weekends when Solange wasn't busy with work or fashion or off doing something with her sister.  I didn't meet her during school, so I have no idea who her friends at SLOSH were or if she had any friends.  She didn't mention any.  I guess Solange was a bit of a loner as well but by choice rather than as in my case by design.  She definitely wasn't awkward around other people.  On the contrary, she shined especially when compared to my stuttering self.  If there's a female equivelant to suave and debonaire, Solange typified it.

For over a month of bliss, nothing became of our expirementing with her holding me while I travelled.  Well not nothing, I had fallen fast, more than enamored by Solanges presence.  Granted, I hadn't had many friends or conversations. So this was all new to me and felt thankful, grateful for, and in love with Solange and the time I got to spend with her.  Actually started grinning alot, a facial expression I wasn't familiar with.  Felt strange at first but then natural.  Also understood what it meant to watch the clock.  Before our experimenting together, I had nothing to look forward too while in class and on desk was no different than my bedroom or bench or grass for wiling away the day.  Suddenly, I felt I had a purpose, as meager as it was, I lived to be with Solange and decipher the 'how to's of my time travelling affliction.

Our next experiment was to remain in contact but also concentrate, think about, the same things or places at the same time.  Pretty hard to do if you ask me, keeping an event in mind constantly trying to think of the exact same thing someone else is thinking.  Time periods were too vast as were events.  After some deliberation, Solange and I settled upon focusing our thoughts on specific works of art or poems. Even art was problematic.  I mean really it was tough.  Try thinking of the Mona Lisa for example.  Are you thinking about it.  What are you thinking of?  Her smile?  Her eyes? The Louvre?  Even when we're talking about a static image it's rather hard to focus ones thoughts in tune with anothers exactly on the same thing.  After expirementing and talking about images, we settled upon short poems like Parker's"men don't make passes at women who wear glasses" or Millay's fig quatrains and specific objects in paintings like the red ball in Man Ray's "La Fortune, "or sculptures like Duchamp's urinal,  or just solid colors, still can't see how a canvas of solid blue is art but it's easy to focus on it especially if you don't get too close to note the brush strokes. We also tried to think about just one word but that got tiring rather quickly.  It's rather boring thinking about a single word over and over again.  Quagmire did work well for a couple of hours though.

We dragged this experiment on for months.  It was a tad too exhausting though.  I would have called it quits much sooner if it weren't for the perk of still being able to feel Solange next to me.  In fact, it wasn't me who evidenced frustration, it was Solange.  The first time I ever saw a glimmer of emotion outside the calm cool and happy self she exuded.  I remember it vividly.

I was resting my head against Solange's shoulder, my left arm beside her back my right intertwined with her left arm against her thighs.  I must admit I was still a tad distracted by the feel of her lower back and the heat of her legs, but was doing my darndest to concentrate upon the square block of a rook that was part of Man Ray's chess set.

Solange stood up suddently jarring my head and turned towards me "This isn't working.  I think we need to mix things up a bit."
"How?"  I replied a bit bewildered by the sudden loss of her touch.
"I don't know." She replied sounding frustrated with that fretful frown of hers. She stood there silently as I remained seated on the bench stupidly.  She paced a bit, picked up a rock and threw it into the dry creek bed next to the mission we were haunting.  I just remained sitting watching her move trying not to fade into another time. Solange twirled around, her face transforming from a grimace to a smile.

"We need a change in environment!"  cried Solange.

"How so?" I replied.

"Road Trip of course, a self imposed mini bildungs roman if you will"


"I know you travel when your asleep, but i think a trip up north to the bay area would be a fun change of pace.  Diamanda Galas is playing at the Opera House in a couple of weeks and I think we should go."

"Who's Galas?"

"You'll find out, first you've got to get the okay from your folks to let you go away for a weekend."

"Don't see how.  Can't imagine them agreeing to let their dear only teenage son, go off alone for a weekend, with a girl no less."

"Well then you'll do what I do and not tell them rather we'll think of some alternative excuse that will be acceptable to them."

"You mean lie."

Solange laughed "Of course lie, if you haven't before it's about time you embraced a pivotal part of being a teenager 'lying to the parents.'  This will be great fun and a worthy cause.  We need to try something new and catching Galas perform will be an added bonus!"

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