journeys

 

thoughts of Bran….before I fall asleep 

       we reminisce about Rouen over dinner and talk of going to Bathe next weekend; although not part of my exploration I do not mind him as my personal guide to anywhere although just staying home with him would be lovely ….

No— I said not .... tonight 

and I hear bagpipes in the street

 

 tea cakes 

Such a beautiful day and it keeps getting better 

 

why?

 

He said, holding me captive,

 “I am your purpose, never forget that.”

Elan’s life before

When I think of Elan and how most of the images are how it ended, of the capture by the pirate Viking and yet— what of the rest?— the Druid and a mother who were traveling …from ? Only, the Druid was not Elan’s father and was from further away; the people in the village were suspicious of him but he was the healer who sold what they needed. 

the way Elan’s memories ended with the trauma of her death —also dominated the images 

When there is much trauma in anyone’s life, those experiences take over

but I know more of what happened before, I just never felt like it was as interesting to write about as it was rather ordinary. 

There was a small village. Very small. Everyone knew each other. The buildings were very crude. There was a boy on the other side of the villege; he wore a cap and his face was usually dirty from his work. He wore dark trousers and a light colored shirt. He was shy. But so was Elan. 

They would meet out in the field in secret but the Druid found out

The Druid traveled often for his supplies. So he was often away. This made life usually endurable. But it was when he discovered this secret that everything changed in Elan’s life

When the Druid took her, along with Elan’s mother, away, they never saw each other again 

Who was he? Where was this villege? 

 

Table manners with Bran part 1

We sit at the table. I let him decide for me what to order and then he looks at me and stares. It makes me self-conscious so I look away and notice the decor and design of the restaurant. It is a kind of modern bistro with dark midnight blue/black interiors; with candles and bud vases on the intimately placed small round tables and dark linen table clothes. 

“I wanted to take you out, your first night here— I thought before we think about all the details ….” he was saying 

I turn my eyes back to him now 

“Yes,” I say and smile “because I know we will get into it as it’s what we do, isn’t it —but I like seeing what is here—I love the atmosphere,” I was saying 

“Good— because I was thinking maybe we can continue with your history research ….. and choose a different city to explore every weekend….we can drive it and ….” he stops himself and smiles at me, “how do you still look so young—?—you nonsmoking vegan,” he laughs at me, “who still has boys asking her out—it makes me want to ask you this ….” he leans over and says it in my ear 

 

summer vibe comes in

I’ve been spending days at the beach writing and meditating. Continuing the flow of where things take me

as like elan am drawn to the beach and nature and seem best in the outdoors

People watching and meeting people; the summer vibe here is much different, it draws the vacationers and all day men want to pick me up; they stop me. they are much bolder than the local men; I was told today by a stranger how special I am and called “gorgeous” my mood of people is amused and bewildered as soon after another man stopped me and said

“Hey I just saw you at the beach you walked all this way?” (he was riding an electric scooter) 

I’m like, 

“yeah, I like to walk to the beach….”

and proud to tell me he sold chandeliers to our president weekly…. and then— also asked me out— but he asked if I was a college student and then told me about how his daughter was taking over the mortgage of his house as —I guess he was divorcing but ….then that means he thinks I’m …. like —? if she’s taking over his mortgage and he thinks I’m a college student …he wants to be my daddy?I got a sick red flag so— I made an abrupt exit but now I know who to watch for, but the new vibe here yes—I didn’t notice last year so deep in woe about that metal death trap but this year, until I decide where I’m going I am liking the vacation attitude here and the vacationers are very fun to be around and yeah I love the attention 

Bran& Beth/interruptions & instructions

 

It is the sound of a young male voice calling from somewhere far away that causes Bran to suddenly let go 

“Ioan,” he says simply looking regretfully down at me but letting go and stepping back anticipating the appearance of his young son Ioan. I get a glimpse of him and then he looks back at me awkwardly. I see instantly he looks more like Clare, but he stares a bit longer than I expect him to before he does a funny wave before he and his father talk.

“I should get changed,” I say as I start to walk past them to go inside 

Bran calls out,

“go through the bedroom door, it’s unlocked.”

But until he said that I hadn’t realized there was a door that led out to the garden from the bedroom. From outside I had assumed it went somewhere else. There is a pebbled paved walkway through the garden, and it leads to the little patios that I now see one is by the bedroom with chairs and a table which I had noticed but glossed over. 

The door is unlocked, and it is a sliding door which on the inside was covered by long draperies that go all the way across but mesh off to the sides and one side was hiding the door which going back in, I have to move aside

only once I am back in the bedroom do I realize why Bran wanted me to go this way— he managed to slip a surprise for me across the bed. There’s a note attached to a pretty white dress with eyelet and little white satin bows 

I look at the note which says,

‘~Wear this for me tonight x’

ces choses que je me demande

 Qui veux-tu à tes côtés quand ton monde s'effondre ? Avec qui vas-tu célébrer le fait d'être là pour toi ?

Bran & Beth/his garden

“But, before we go, there’s something I want you to see,” Bran says

He shows me his garden. He takes my hand. 

We go through the terrace door which is just through the dining room, and it is like stepping into a sanctuary. He holds my hand and absently our fingers twist and weave….and it is so natural with him, we do this without knowing we do until when I almost trip over a garden tool, his hand grips mine tight…. It catches me. 

We are in his garden ….at last and this caught off moment brings us to the immediate present….how strange to be in his garden after so much time has passed….. I think this caught in his poet’s eyes ….see the Hamilton roses 

“Beth,” he says and puts his hands on me; they lay upon my shoulders and he slowly draws me to him but holds me in front of him, “I’m sorry ….for all the wasted years,” he says now

“No—“

“Yes,” he says but stops any more of my words with his mouth; without foreplay of warning his kiss possesses immediately 

Wuffis; Bran & Beth/starting to break the ice

“That dog missing an eye or that cat missing an ear, I always felt I’d be better off giving an animal like that a home,” Bran says to me now when he finds me with ‘Wuffis’ the said dog with, while not a missing eye but a blind eye. 

He has become my friend unexpectedly as he settled himself among my shoes. He is a mutt but so cute! He is brown with floppy ears; a mix of some kind of terrier and he’s playful!

“When did you get him?” I ask 

“When I knew you were coming,” Bran says now and looks around the newly constructed bedroom where I have been hanging my dresses and folding sweaters in drawers. “How do you like it?”

I look up at him as I’m petting Wuffis—he is nuzzling my hand 

“Him?”

Bran smiles and then shakes his head,

“I mean…. here?”

But you know, I haven’t let myself think about that. I just want to take everything in; the newness of that I’m really here with him after everything…after so much that —wow it takes so much to absorb but happy —I feel happy with him only I just got here and it is tooo soon to say

I say instead,

“To be here with you knowing that — you are the kind of man who would even say that about a dog or a cat ….the rest almost doesn’t matter,” but then my stomach growled 

“Oh—that’s what I meant to tell you—I’m taking you out for dinner— dress up!”

Notes of a Celf’s journey

notes today….

There is something about being around water around a full moon for me. Especially if there are waves. It is something about the rhythm, the four elements, and that ….thing about myself that I guess some might have accused me of being a witch, but I don’t know what it is or why I have it only that I learned long ago that it was best to accept it and ….keep it on the down low. I’ve worn the moon stone all year and whatever fragmented part of my inner eye that was reaped in these last few years has found the spiritual glue to mend that part within. That part. 

So to mention. Something cryptic I still don’t get. In a passing moment before, I got one of my visions. But it is confusing

I sense that I’ve been pulled from the habit of meditations because —from ….where I was last. You know, you don’t always know the extent of your own inner wounds until you’re faced with the issues they give you. I forgot just how to let my body muscles relax. How to go limp. I was always listening to hear my name shouted and for two years I slept about three hours a night. I know how that messes the mind— so, lately, the meditations have returned. On their own. So…. what does this vision mean thst I got —on one level it was to heal but there was something else. Having to do with either saving someone, or no…. it had to do with elevation of —something to do with a soul’s journey. Only if I’m to heal, what is this to do with saving someone else when I’ve been doing this most of my life it seems. My mother was one. 

The strange thing is, I don’t sense I need to search for it, that it’s a work I’m somehow already involved in, so maybe it will appear; person or event but mostly I feel me returned almost to another me but without erasing the difficulties. Maybe they fade ….when you get enough time watching the waves during full moons….its funny, people lately are so drawn to me, I think it is this coming back

   

An Edward Hopper Mordor

I don’t know why, what it is, there is just something about this that always stops me— is it the industrial realism? it’s bald, raw simplicity? —and yet, it is the vines that always draws me here; I like how well the shapes of the leaves look like hearts crawling up cold walls like arms of embrace that colors with its photosynthesis the lifeless stony-ness under its complimentary shade to soften the stark edges away ….the corrupt twin tanks become decorative like Grecian vases and as I sink into my quiet artistic shyness thinking I disappear among the streets behind the length of hair —someone calls out to me, “I love your hair! It’s so pretty!” And realize, the longer it grows the more I stand out….but I say thank you. And think more about the industrial ….feeling ….seeing Thackary on the shelf when I was searching for ….and bumping into my name everywhere next to ….the outside me —the inside me ….only some ever get past or let ….into ….This wall is my great muse —it may symbolize more than just one of my many walls but joint —or an opening to A Way to Escape Our False World
 

thru ev’ry beating of events and every season

I find on my way

still there  ….

 

the burden of an eternal sentence of regret i do not want…. Beethoven —you understand 

   

awkward not awkward Chapter 14 Bran and Beth

 

Chapter 14

 

For a moment he stands there between myself and the heap of my baggage and it isn’t awkward, it isn’t like that. It is something else. And I look inside there in search of …that familiar thing –that thing, you know, that would tell me…tells me within the moss what I …

“I haven’t forgotten about your other project,” he says instead of what we both know he was really thinking

And what we both are really thinking. I guess it may be the years; how many have gone by …too many to wish to blow any moment on something stupid or to presume some notion that –some notion that… and here I just get stuck

“my other project,” I say repeating his words

“The …about the family history you are tracing,” he hesitates

“It’s …it’s for a story I’m working on but actually, it is about another area even though the family name is Welsh somehow …it was connected to an area where the Vikings invaded, there was a family and a theory from my dream about a man from the village,” but I babble.

I babble for normalcy. To take the pressure off of our more pressing present

Only now I fear I trivialize the present by even saying this now and it confuses me as to what to do or say but mostly because of his eyes; the seaweed that wraps around and pulls, and wraps you inside its hypnotic sappy embrace of its fire-kiln, brilliant glaze.

I say,

“um.”

He looks silently at me reading my eyes. He slowly smiles,

“a man?”

I look away,

“it was…” I laugh feeling stupid as I have to tell him the rest now, “something that old psychic told me. Before the boat…. You know the life about –”

“The one from your painting, I know, and forgive me if I don’t want to make silk screens of your vampire whatever the fuck he is because—”

I reach for his hand without planning to. It was just the instinct to --and the impulse took over. And my hand melts within his large one making me aware of how much bigger his is. But his hand is warm and familiar as it closes around mine

“Anyway, it has lead me to a new story that takes place sort of connected to the industrial revolution, so it is exciting that the paint pigment comes from an old coal mine. It feels like a sign. I think the two projects can work together as I will be getting more ideas but I may want to explore other areas closer to say—where the history calls… so it’s cool, right? Win win, I do what you want for your business and I can work on my thing at the same time.”

“Would you like to see your studio?” he still holds my hand and smiles as he begins to pull me towards the hallway that leads to all the doors.

And so I let him. I like the feel of his hand on mine. Around it. It fits so well in his. And as he leads the way down the hall I do not ask myself anything about what anything means, I go blind as one about to jump

 

It is a studio. A very large and very functioning studio. He stands in the doorway and with a shake of his head urges me to walk in.

And as I walk around, I see the perfection of the layout. The area for screen printing; the area for paint mixing, deep sinks and counters. Several long work tables and sectioned cabinets for different mediums.

 

Once I have inspected everything he walks in now and goes to a door I had not noticed. It is white like the walls of the room. But he stands outside it and just opens the door by pulling the handle and uses his head to suggest I go in.

It confuses me when I go inside because it is a private apartment. Fully finished and fully furnished with a kitchen, a dining room that lets out to the back courtyard, a bedroom and private bathroom. But nothing has been used.

I feel confused and look at him,

“I don’t understand…”

He glances behind where we stand to suggest the older part of the house,

“to get the boys used to… things… and for us as well. I thought –you might enjoy a new space for us to work in together on those long project nights…” and only now does he move close and stand near enough and long enough—

 

 Or so I thought until a very loud voice shouts something I don’t understand with a great deal of vehemence

 

“Ioan,” Bran looks at me regretfully, “that’s his animal starved boy cry, I’ll bring your bags and get him sorted,”

 

he starts to go but –something surprising happens without warning; he kisses me fast on the mouth …unexpected as I realize he stops himself stunned in mid kiss and looks at me,

“I didn’t mean to assume, sor—"

But I kiss him back before he says more and I suppose it would have lasted longer if another bellow had not then occurred

 

 

Chapter 13 Bran and Beth (new stories); alluding colors

 

 

His first question had been: can you draw me up your monthly expenses? Bran

and as it seemed not entirely out of nowhere, considering his last request of me, I had to ask,

“are you offering me a job?”

 

To find myself stepping back into Bran’s house again…. all these years later

How did this even come about? I even ask myself this as I stand upon the very said threshold looking in. While I may look at my surroundings, I see the bare bones of what I remember instead of what I am looking at. Because he has lead me to—not the front of the house, but off to the side because the front of the house is under some kind of remodel or construction. And while there is no time to ask about that, because I do remember him saying something about how he uses his house for his work too, as he had done in past, but back then it was this part where we walk towards. It was a kind of add on or dormer, I guess someone may call it. Back then anyway.

 

The ‘dormer’ is now actually the largest part of the home as I realized while walking down the path towards it. And notice too that now there is an entire back court yard kind of landscape with a stone table and chairs in the middle and surrounded by a garden path. To the side of the ‘dormer’ where once was just the side door has had an addition built to the side; there stands a glass green house with arched windows.

 

Once inside though I stare at the old memories.

 

I see those first.

 

But then I realize that what I am looking at is revised with similar things…. The deep and rugged settee with the scratchy wool mulberry tone upholstery is moved to a far deep corner further away now…. because now the room is much longer and much bigger by three times what it was. Now I notice there is a long hallway further down that has doorways to other rooms or ways out

I guess the need for –normal?—had me say as I stood there,

“how are Dylan and Crystal?.... sorry I forget the other one’s….”

“Ioan,” Bran says as he drops my bags into a neat pile on the floor along the path towards that hallway.

 

So the nature of why I am there…. This is the man who manages to get us credit to stay at random places  in Rouen and Paris and make a Frenchman want to buy my Wavegirl painting for his shower curtain line he never meant to have.

 

So the answer to this about how he got me there has something to do with ….Six Bells Ochre and….

     my particular use of this unique red pigment that is only found in this one place in Wales which seems essential in—the present running of Bran’s newest line

…. and what he used for the reason for the visa

 

“Do they—” I look around for teenagers or evidence of…. But Ioan would be something like twelve….?

“You don’t have to worry about them—the boys live mostly in the old part and Crys lives with her mother….”

He says all this simply. And then he walks over to me

 

We had talked about this. Some of this. But some things we didn’t really say much about… and the overwhelming emotions which surfaced after finding I had agreed to his offer… work… ? which was not complicated to do; mix colors, run the screen printer, etc. and definitely a job only I could do as it was my unique shades he was employing. And my art particularly.

It is not strangers we are stood now looking at each other. From my jet lag and over thinking nervousness all the way from the airport to here rambling on and on about stupid things that happened on the way to avoid  that realization of… life changing… what did I just get off the plane to do?

color mixing without rules

it was the funniest thing, this one day —I was mixing paint beginning with my shade of terra cotta ….i put it on the picture I was working on; it was to be a picture of a terra cotta vase in a lovely solarium gleaming in morning light in a room full of garden tools and clippings in jars growing roots and such 

so there was my shade of patina which I had toned down with—yellow ochre

I was so absorbed within the brushstrokes and …. the shading as I imagined sunlight and shadow 

   so lost in my colors 

      it is why I learned to separate days for painting and days for mixing 

 …. it was the weirdest thing ….but I watched the colors —end up ….like the other !!!! I had instinctively found my way to the color spectrum laws and demonstrated for myself how opposite colors have the other in it but inverted 

I could spend weeks doing this alone. 

Like watching how black bleeds every color as you wash it away slowly but if you add yellow to black you get green without even needing blue

where it’s possible to converse across the street in midday traffic by the corner book shop

 

the perfect amount of crowds

 

mountain beach life

 

making tracks again

 

a lens of what might have been/could of Bran & Beth who was what

 

And stood outside the window here we watch them from outside ….

like viewers of an audience 

and let us step inside their scene without much more ado

First from the front glass of his car as the rain hits it and he shuts it off as he pulls into the airport in search of where to park ….perhaps it would be Cardiff ….or somewhere nearby his house, the one with the faded blue car from which he sat talking to what’s her name Beth who was what

There goes Bran as we may remember him. Somewhat rumpled in appearance like a poet might be but still clean and vaguely groomed with a beard not too much overlooked by the shears, perhaps now with some grey which becomes his poetic moss green eyes 

The airport seems to thin like a mist clearing after a wave of people pass through and as it clears away is a haze like the sunburn of glare that stains your eyes she appears like a blaze of gleaming copper rays. Titian hair twisted over a purple scarf she stands stock still as the crowd thins away as if in hesitation 

Neither of them really said the nature of where things stood after all it had been such a long time since they….

“I was afraid you would not be there,” Bran says as he stands there still just staring at her, as if not sure still if it was real.

He thinks she looks afraid as she stands there still looking back at him but then she smiles,

“that is exactly what I was thinking five minutes ago”

I have often asked myself what life might have looked like if …. “Beth”who is what had the chance to be with Bran and dare I let myself go there ….

A familiar walk down a side street

Elbow deep inside the filing cabinet including her head, she was about to call for Sheila, hoping she knew what had become of the file of the recent inventory printouts and the ones Pierre Reaux was requesting. The basement archives were always creepy to have to visit, but it’s where most of the property information was kept and with Grant nowhere around, she had to hunt through endless drawers of files. And Monsieur …. Since he could no longer freely trespass among us…. thanks to new border policies that were more insult than blow Faun thought for the French Canadian and then sighed —well, it was too bad as he kinda grew on her. He wasn’t so bad. Just annoying. Condescending. Often rude. So—what is his charm exactly? He was looking into the mystery person who was murdering the members of the Bishop family. 

He wanted the copies of another set of files that recently had gone missing as it had to do with Arthur’s older legal files and properties 

She heard a sound and assumed it was Sheila and as she turned she said, 

“Shiela, do you have any idea where or why the property lease and titles have suddenly gone missing?”

Faun said all that when she turned and saw who darkened the doorway holding an armful of files 

“Grant ….where have you been and why or how is it you ….” she lost momentum as she stammered limply, “suddenly show up now….?” as the sight of him made her aware of how starved of his very appearance she was. She fell silent and just stared at him. 

“You mean these?” as if this answer now had the more relevance —yet, he held the files in question 

“I have been overseeing since your absence because —believe it or not, our friendly Canadian pointed out awhile back that you likely needed my help whether or not you were aware I was even doing it ….so….um—how long have you been here?”

“No—I was just enjoying your rear view so—no not long….” his slow smile reminded her he was teasing her 

the master of evasions 

bran

 within the darkness of brooding thoughts he calls 

“All these years you have felt so alone, and it kills me you believe that  —all your mystery blog hits Beth—were me, I think about you all the time…”

He says,

“I’ve not forgotten. I’ve been watching the calendar. I think it’ll be all right. Just call if you need me.”

that he remembers —is more than anyone else ever did 

the hours of silence here is madness so I call out of desperation for just a warm familiar voice that once ….provided comfort 

the universe always feels off whenever we fall out of each others orbit

smeared reflections in a retro lens

a July 4th long gone Clawson Michigan 

at the Gasoline anniversary night 

Our neighborhood gargoyle in Royal Oak 

in my shot

by the JAW building Berkley Michigan

Royal Oak Michigan