garble
08-13-2008, 08:27 AM
They actually hired a band that day, as they were expecting so many people to attend the auction. I had not planned on being there, I was just on my way home from work when I saw the crowds, seems like when everyone from all the surrounding towns are going to be at one place it turns out to be a full blown event. The standard kiosks were set up everywhere. Get a Chinese symbol henna tattoo, always a line up for that one. Ice cream, corn dogs, greasy fries, all the standard food fair but today was a little different. Too many people clamoring to buy the dead.
We moved from a the heart of metro, high fashion, trendy furniture, the coolest of the cool, the hippest of the hip, the most beautiful of the beautiful people to dudsfill. Manure smelling, tractor hat clad, culturally void, butt fuck nowhere. I was a young teen and the shock knocked me over like a bag of wet cement. WTF? I had actually been accepted into a top modeling agency a year before and now I am in a century old farm house with no sign of life to be seen for miles. Not to mention, I now had "chores". Feeding beef which I had sworn off eating a couple years ago. Piling bails of hay in a barn, shoving grain full of snakes and bugs, pulling weeds, amongst other things you could only imagine in the worst reality tv show.
All that was nothing compared to the silence. The utterly cold empty bitterly stifling emptiness. The people that complained of the standard NYC noise did not grow up in NYC. The screeching squeaking of the Street Cars, the vibrations from the subways, the honking of the cars, the sirens at varying distances. All music to my ears. It was a symphony of life.
It was like a dark blanket had been thrown over my existence. All for my own good. All for my health and well being. A wholesome dose of fuckedupedness all bestowed upon me without consult.
Straight "A" ambitious student, creative interesting friends, energetic and enthusiastic, ready to take on the world. Smiles that came easy, eyes all asparkle, a jump in my step, found my first day of school.
Me in my yellow pants and wild hair got glances of hatred and repulsiveness from the girls. Stares from the boys. Yes I was an alien just landed from another planet. I did not belong. Soon those stares turned to conversations, those conversations turned to invites out to the cars in the parking lot during lunch. Not what you think, no we were not making out, I was learning the escape of smoking pot. Lots and lots of pot, everyday.
Not so soon after I had my first boyfriend. A date in the country consisted of driving around on gravel roads drinking beer in a car full of loud brash hics and then peeing in the ditch. Later I would be dropped off barely being able to stand drunk at home sweet fucking home where my parents were tucked away safely in their illusion of "we are doing what is best" oblivious to their drunk teenage daughter whose academia was turning to anything that could make it all numb, not exactly conducive to her dreams of becoming an executive something or other.
I would get home in time to hear train. Yes the one thing near our country home that rumbled and roared and rattled the windows and the horn went off blaring. All of it seeming even louder in the stillness of reality. Yes beautiful obtrusive noise. The noise that put me instantly to sleep. A short minuet of my past given to me as a sign of hope dropped from the sky like a bead of cool sweat when it is so unbearable hot you think you can not go on.
Over the years I grew to love the sound of the train. It rumbled and roared and blared every night. It never woke me up but seemed to offer me assurance that there was life out there. The life I knew. My tribe sent the train to call for me, like the pounding of a distant drum. It was comforting, assuring, a lullaby for my soul.
I was unaware. I wasn't really one to keep up with the news. I woke up startled in the middle of the night. Not sure what was wrong but keenly aware something was amiss. The night was still and the air was stale. The musty smell of the old house smelt like poison. I was choking, dying and I could not figure out why. Night after night I would wake up, bolt upright in bed with a sense of panic. I did not clue into the the fact immediately.
Not until that day of the auction, railway ties.
The train had stopped running.
We moved from a the heart of metro, high fashion, trendy furniture, the coolest of the cool, the hippest of the hip, the most beautiful of the beautiful people to dudsfill. Manure smelling, tractor hat clad, culturally void, butt fuck nowhere. I was a young teen and the shock knocked me over like a bag of wet cement. WTF? I had actually been accepted into a top modeling agency a year before and now I am in a century old farm house with no sign of life to be seen for miles. Not to mention, I now had "chores". Feeding beef which I had sworn off eating a couple years ago. Piling bails of hay in a barn, shoving grain full of snakes and bugs, pulling weeds, amongst other things you could only imagine in the worst reality tv show.
All that was nothing compared to the silence. The utterly cold empty bitterly stifling emptiness. The people that complained of the standard NYC noise did not grow up in NYC. The screeching squeaking of the Street Cars, the vibrations from the subways, the honking of the cars, the sirens at varying distances. All music to my ears. It was a symphony of life.
It was like a dark blanket had been thrown over my existence. All for my own good. All for my health and well being. A wholesome dose of fuckedupedness all bestowed upon me without consult.
Straight "A" ambitious student, creative interesting friends, energetic and enthusiastic, ready to take on the world. Smiles that came easy, eyes all asparkle, a jump in my step, found my first day of school.
Me in my yellow pants and wild hair got glances of hatred and repulsiveness from the girls. Stares from the boys. Yes I was an alien just landed from another planet. I did not belong. Soon those stares turned to conversations, those conversations turned to invites out to the cars in the parking lot during lunch. Not what you think, no we were not making out, I was learning the escape of smoking pot. Lots and lots of pot, everyday.
Not so soon after I had my first boyfriend. A date in the country consisted of driving around on gravel roads drinking beer in a car full of loud brash hics and then peeing in the ditch. Later I would be dropped off barely being able to stand drunk at home sweet fucking home where my parents were tucked away safely in their illusion of "we are doing what is best" oblivious to their drunk teenage daughter whose academia was turning to anything that could make it all numb, not exactly conducive to her dreams of becoming an executive something or other.
I would get home in time to hear train. Yes the one thing near our country home that rumbled and roared and rattled the windows and the horn went off blaring. All of it seeming even louder in the stillness of reality. Yes beautiful obtrusive noise. The noise that put me instantly to sleep. A short minuet of my past given to me as a sign of hope dropped from the sky like a bead of cool sweat when it is so unbearable hot you think you can not go on.
Over the years I grew to love the sound of the train. It rumbled and roared and blared every night. It never woke me up but seemed to offer me assurance that there was life out there. The life I knew. My tribe sent the train to call for me, like the pounding of a distant drum. It was comforting, assuring, a lullaby for my soul.
I was unaware. I wasn't really one to keep up with the news. I woke up startled in the middle of the night. Not sure what was wrong but keenly aware something was amiss. The night was still and the air was stale. The musty smell of the old house smelt like poison. I was choking, dying and I could not figure out why. Night after night I would wake up, bolt upright in bed with a sense of panic. I did not clue into the the fact immediately.
Not until that day of the auction, railway ties.
The train had stopped running.