Halloween 1995 style – before the advent of CSI on TV.
This has to be the most frightening costume my ex-husband and I ever concocted together, this night 11 years ago today.
What do you suppose we each were portraying while in these costumes?
Fire-trucks are everywhere. The alarm in my building just went off too. I just came back upstairs after packing my cat into a basket and running down all the stairs. Then the alarm decided to stop. We all poured back into the building only to hear another alarm going off down on the main floor. I’m heading out down the street. The noise is getting immense. All the alarms have stopped in my building.
I was walking home from the Burlesque show I had been in attendance of and lying on the grass was this man. This man had on a white mask. He had on a white cowboy hat. He was wearing a reddish burgundy plaid shirt and dark navy bluejeans. To top it off he wore some snakeskin cowboy boots. I walked by. Then stoped, flipped around and walked to the man on the grass. He was slumped over laying down heavy upon the ground. Eyes closed with no bodily movement, I say “HEY guy”…
I’ll run upstairs, call the police. I was looking at the side entrance to the building I lived in. Um. Sweat was dripping down my forhead now. I had been walking for 30 minutes. What do I do. Call the police Jessica. Touch him. Shake him. No I better not. He’s breathing. Belly -up. Belly-down. It is 2:00AM in the morning, there are firecrackers going off in the distance. BOOM. Crack…. pssssssss.
Scarves of recognition in disguise
seeking vengeange or weather permitting,
Drawn using a Pilot G-tec C4 pen onto acid free paper from my journal and photographed on deck.
I spent some time yesterday cleaning up the deck, sweeping the remnants of life into piles of debris. Twigs, dead flowers, cotten tie strings and leaves had found their way down to the deck for the winter. The remaining plants still in pots are hanging on as long as they can until the first frost causes them to wilt, then fall to ground or deck only to be swept away by wind or broom again.
I find myself listening to Spirits again today. It is almost painful sometimes to listen, for it causes so much emotion to well up inside me that I need to release. Last week on Thursday I danced. Friday I awoke feeling the world is my playground and that my dreams are becoming reality because I am doing rather than just dreaming now. A little bit of fear sheds everyday for me. Then the phone rang. I answered it. It was a man. This man was from a collection agency. He told me what I was already very aware of; that my student loan from Scotiabank has not been payed upon for 6 monthes. He told me to call my parents for money. He told me they would take me to court if I did not pay the full amount. He told me it is not very often that he has to call someone with an “A” rating on their credit and that most of his day is spent calling “D” or “F” credit rating people demanding money in full. IN FULL. The full amount. I remained calm. I had woken feeling exuberant, alive and feeling alive, feeling I have so much to live for, that I am so close to trusting myself completely. I told this man I am not working, that I am artist. I told him I have been paying Scotiabank for 10 years since I first graduated college back in 1996. He asked me to phone my parents again and told me about the story of a girl who cried and cried because she couldn’t pay her student loan. He told me she called her parents and her parents peyed the full amount for her by the end of the weekend. He said your amount is not that high and that really it is not that hard to come by over a weekend. He told me of other people in collection had much much higher debt loads and that mine is EASY to pay. I told him I would call my family. I told him I would ask my boyfriend.
I answered “No” smiling at the eyeglassed man in the pick-up truck. He had pulled up beside me moments earlier while I was walking down Hastings Street on my way to the
Waldorf. I was dressed in jeans, a blue vinatge leather coat that has been sewed together regularly cause leather has a tendancy to outlive fiber, and lastly I had my hoola hoop swung around my shoulder. This man began to pull away but said “Hey!” I turned and backtracked a few steps.
“Is that a hoola hoop?”
“And what do you do with that?”
“I hoooooola hoop.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m heading to the Waldorf. Beats without Borders is happening tonight.”
“Music from all over the world”
“And you, are going to hoola hoop?”
He grinned and hit the gas to maneover left into traffic. As I neared my final destination, I glanced him peering out at the crowd of people from the adjacent side street. He turned the wheel right, and continued on down Hastings in search of his final destination.
Portrait of the Addict a couple a’ years ago.