July 22, 2009
Lolita on the Lam
Cam-phone photo. LG VX11000. July 18, 2009.
Rereading a book I first read when I was seventeen — and missing my old hardbound volume.
For unknown adventures I was leaving the livid house where I had rented a room only ten weeks before. The shades — thrifty, practical bamboo shades — were already down. On porches or in the house their rich textures lend modern drama. The house of heaven must seem pretty bare after that.
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Is that a van Shelia? I’m in the process of talking the nephew out of his old VW bus, the real thing.
Talking him out of it meaning, talking him into giving it to you? Ross lived in his VW bus, when he was 17.
Oh no, $$$ would cross palms. Commerce is always being committed in my family. But he’s a rock climber and likes being able to haul stuff, sleep in it. I had a college boyfriend with a VW bus, you can definitely live in one even if you can’t keep it running.! I’m counting on the nephew getting tired of it eventually.
Ok look. If this idea takes off, we can have women in VW buses all over America, like an alternative to Clusterflock Inns. Clusterflock on the lam!
Sheila’s in an Element! (I squealed.)
Lucy: VW buses are certainly big enough. They aren’t called buses for nothing.
When I was a Baptist, fourteen-years-old or so, I dreamed of having a van carrying a Hammond spinet I could haul out at state parks along the road and sing and play, maybe even preach, evangelizing to the wayward I might find in my journeys. By dream I mean honest waking thought of it. In my thought, at the time, I thought I was being “called” to do so.
Thank goodness, my reality turned out different.
Still, sometimes, in my heart, I yearn for other than the comfort I have that is my life. There is a piece of me who might like living in the woods far from everything. Growing my food. Hunting and preserving. Chopping my wood for winter. etc. etc. Blah, blah, blah. Sometimes I bore myself to tears.
I don’t think I could get into cleaning and gutting squirrels. (Although there is a reference in Les Miserables to a woodchuck being served at an inn.)
Coop, squirrels, nah. I’m with you. But ‘possum, mebbe? There’s a little more for the taking there.
Not just any old Element. Her name is the Element of Surprise.