"Our breakup was hard for me, too," he's saying, "but I think I had a somewhat....different reaction."
"What do you mean?" I ask. I know exactly what he means.
"Well, I didn't need to escape to Montana."
I laugh a little. "I sure did."
My latest escape brings me back to Montana, to the cabin where I spent two weeks of rehab last November. This time I drive out, not to lick my wounds, but to celebrate Sebby's birthday party in proper form. The theme for the weekend is Peter Pan: pajamas, pirates, tinker bells. Never Never Land in big sky county- perhaps the greatest escape of all time.
3. The cabin that had been so quiet a few months ago, where I sat alone with my pile of books and busily stitched away at my heart, is now wild and loud, overrun with lost boys from Missoula. Their big, laughing, over-sized presence takes up every bunk bed and floor space, crowds into the snowy hot tub in a veil of white steam, falls asleep randomly on couches, circles the kitchen handing out beer and making coffee. They give out back rubs and tell jokes and keep us well fed.
4. The wingmen construct a tinker bell piƱata with the head of a doll that's been ripped free of its body. The doll head has a little speaker and laughs like a maniac when you whack it with a boom. There is candy everywhere.
5. This place is, essentially, an exhausting and absurd and slightly insane p-a-r-a-d-i-s-e for a girl who is running away screaming from a dinosaur.
(By the way, the lighting is really tricky.)
5. In the middle of the dance floor, I find myself transfixed. There is a woman who is dancing on a pole. She is dressed in black and twisting around and around. She is so beautiful to watch that I forget I am wearing my pajamas.
Eventually she catches me staring at her, and she smiles. She reaches her hand out and pulls me up on the platform with her. Without saying anything, it's too loud to hear anyway, she places my hands where they needs to be, hooks my leg around the pole and gestures for me to spin. Then she steps down and leaves me alone, and this is how I learn how to pole dance as a lost boy.
7. I don't mean to ruin any surprises, but I do end up back in Seattle, and that thing I've been running from gets me. It gets me real good this time.
8. But first, Missoula.
5 comments:
It it just incredible how you can talk about deep sadness and joy and fun in one same post and it doesn't feel disconnected at all...
I love reading your adventures. I too tend to run is like I am looking for my soul... somewhere... out-there...
I'm a fan of the serialized style of this epic.
Never underestimate the power of the ability to run away. Every once in awhile I get overwhelmed by how "tied down" I am, even though I'm not really that tied down. I would love to have the freedom to just BLAM decide to go somewhere else for awhile, all else be damned. Guess I'll just have to keep living vicariously through you =]
Girl. After reading Vajanuary I had to laugh. Sometimes girlfriends are the way to healing, and sometimes, the greatest balm has been "my guys" filling me up with liquor and laughter that leads me on the path to reclaiming myself. I absolutely loved this line..."The cabin that had been so quiet a few months ago, where I sat alone with my pile of books and busily stitched away at my heart, is now wild and loud, overrun with lost boys from Missoula." I'm always astounded at the duality of a location. Some days my mountains are my quiet, introspective place, and others, I can't hear anything besides the loud boys shouting vulgarities as we ski down the slope. Love and admiration from Colorado!
Post a Comment