This is going to be a long post, and I hope it doesn't get lost along the way. I am going to go in order to try and avoid the wandering. Beauty and It's Bashers is the yin & yang of my last four days. Trust - misplaced. Unconditional love - under certain circumstances. Friendship - on your terms. Frivolity - emotional hatred.
With so much hesitation, to the point of nausea - I reluctantly agreed to meet you. We talked, and you offered volumes of understanding; unyielding remorse over the way I was treated; and such a high pedestal of reassurance that the slightest tumble could be treacherous. I learned from our conversation, that your dalliances had again attained Lazarus miracles. Flag. I knew enough by the time you vacated the passenger seat, that nothing would be different, and so, I made no suggestion of revisiting our decay. You could have easily brought me in, because this void of interaction in my life is a difficult one. And though I'd rather it not be you, I was half-willing to have anything good or bad.
I spent all day Friday comforted by the thought that I was going to go out, on my own and just do what I wanted. See some art, see some friends, and then go home and crawl into bed with Irma Vep. No, you cannot have this Mr. Marrs. You are going to babysit despite promises that you won't. And then you will be responsible for taming the shrew. Take that dumbass. You opened the door and you got home invaded. Fuck me. It's another scathing reminder every time I receive your texts, your voicemails, and your phantom apologies.
I went to bed at 3-ish, and spent an hour cursing myself before slipping into a dream land. It was equally unforgiving. Bad dreams in which H. was involved, and 3 hours of sleep. I forced myself out of the apartment and made my way to Sanford on a beautiful Saturday morning. Stopped for a mocha and a toasted, pumpkin-walnut bagel with pumpkin schmear. "Oh, thank you, Einstein for giving me back my smile!" Picked up my friends, and headed to the Halloween Folk-Art Festival. Before we arrived at the parking lot, I spied with the corner of my eye, an old, brick building off the beaten path. The Pico Building was a hotel at one time, but it looked so much like a firehouse to me. Traveling around the perimeter of the building reveled several Masonic symbols, and curiously enough, a Masonic Lodge was housed behind this relic. It appeared to be in the throes of restoration, but it kept it's internal secrets. The festival was so amazing, and I hate that I missed this the past two years. I was not prepared that it would be happening amidst an air show and Sanford's Biketoberfest. I asked my friends if Sanford blew the entire city budget on this one weekend and asked if we could expect fireworks at dusk. The folk-art gallery was breathtaking, and housed about 20 vendors. Anna Maiya was the only recognizable face, but I met some wonderful artists and more importantly, R. and K. had a great time. I picked up a number of business cards, and met some artists showing for the first time that live in Orlando, so I am going to try and hook them up locally if I can. I was totally comfortable and all of the artists allowed me to be comfortable. I did not encounter any negativity or ego - and it was a great day! Completely worth the $5 entry fee. What I found astonishing is, that Friday night was the opening day, and entrance was $20 - but the majority of the artists sold extremely well. One lady I met from NJ had her tables cleared! People love Fall and Halloween!!! And I think that's especially true in a place like Florida because a lot of Floridians are transplants that miss the seasons, and the Crackers embrace it because it's our façade of seasons.
From the festival, we hit the antique stores along 1st. Immediately, I wanted H. with me, and it's a feeling that clung to me like a cardigan throughout my afternoon in Sanford. All I could think about was her new art project and, "how perfect this is, that is, how would this inspire her?" Maybe this is unhealthy for me to be doing, but it comes so naturally. I did settle on something, and maybe she will find a use for it? I really want to return with her... sigh. I fell in love with something for myself: a Bell & Howell 8 MM video camera. $30, good grief! I was assured it worked. I want, I want, I want! I may need to ride over again on payday.
We headed over to lunch. I wanted Fish & Chips - but we decided on the seemingly empty Corner Café. We opened the door to chaos. I had utter sympathy for staff; the boss was an ass and the bikers were rude. We waited patiently for 30 minutes for our food, and I was wholly unimpressed, and I will share my experience on Yelp. Our day ran late and we needed to pick up the kids, so as we waited for K. and the children, R. and I talked. My high went completely flatline. I am not going to write verbatim what was shared, but it broke my heart. K. is a mother of 2 in her early 30's, has a huge heart and unconditionally loves and supports her husband and family and asks for nothing in return. But she is being taken for granted, and I don't if I should or how I will open this door with her. It's so depressing to know how she is being seen, why did he share this with me?!
I'm home. Feeling off to say the least. From last night, to the dream, to today - it could very well have just been wonderful, but the color was bleached from that watercolor. Part of it was my own undoing. My effort to find beauty without compromise continues. It exists, I've seen it. I'm curious what the remainder of my weekend offers, but I am inspired enough by today's art excursion to continue the decorating.
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