byrd theatre. cary street. reading batman comics before I knew how to read. the snow in the winter in downtown richmond, with real christmas lights and garlands and a clock tower. peanut soup in an old hotel in fancy dresses. waffles in an old restaurant with a cast iron elevator. hollywood cemetery. that old black baptist church in downtown richmond. smashing pennies on the railroad tracks by the old white shack with the rocking chair on the porch in maryland. the dead puppy we found while canoeing around in the creek in maryland. scratch ankle farm where we went through Coalter's old Russian spy trinkets. dad's room with the rickety old french doors. all those cats. my eyes swelling shut in the nighttime, after we fell asleep quoting beetlejuice back and forth. the nice red headed girl who had to wear a wig that made her scalp itchy. horseshoe creek and taking the rickshaw for a ride. collecting fresh eggs for the morning and watching flies collecting on the fly paper hanging from the ceiling fan in the kitchen. the snow in the woods in the winter at the house on foxtrot lane. that weird serpent creature and the giant toad named violet we kept as pets. dad got them from doing some construction job... what did we name the eel thing? blacky? I don't even think it had eyes or a mouth but I did love it so and was so very worried when it started to shed it's skin and die. nightmare before christmas. mom watching MYSTERY every night and us having to go to bed right after the edward gorey introduction. dressing up like a pumpkin and getting my halloween costume stuffed with rolls of toilet paper while trick or treating. dressing up like a dead victorian woman. memorizing edgar allen poe's the raven. dad reading us poe before bed. shopping and trying on flapper dresses and feather boas at bygones, one of my wild imagination spots
hanging out in the small old family cemetery out at loftan's grandparents virginia farm, where the main house had each room dedicated to a separate primary color. catching lightening bugs. rolly pollys. singing about dying grubworms in the form of a dark beatles song about death and organs in jars. watching batman and batman returns a million times at byrd theatre. oh yea. and dad being batman himself and dating that girl from spencers who looked a little bit like selina kyle. and told us stories about collecting dead bats in his room when he was a kid (yackety yackety yack).
all I ever really truly wanted for chrisimas were cardboard boxes big enough to make a house and a car for myself.
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I'm pretty sure that my sister will appreciate this blog more than most. I mainly wrote this entry for us, but maybe there's enough imagery for some of you to appreciate it.
I'm not referring to cats in heat... that screeching, hissing, yowling phenomenon you witness when you've got a female indoor cat whose belly has yet to be split open, snipped at, and sloppily sewn back together to prevent unruly and ridiculously cute offspring... In texas, we have, what I call, the sound of heat. After living here for fifteen years-give or take a couple of brief moves-I can tell by the sounds from outdoors exactly when the summer heat has arrived. it is the small vibrating click of cicadas. the sound travels from every direction in waves. it makes me feel like I'm in one of dad's favorite westerns. on a horse. on the side of a mountain in the desert. standing by a small cluster of large, dry boulders with one or two little shrubs around them. and a rattlesnake curled up, rattling, and ready to strike. let me see if I can find an old comic book cover to really show you how it feels... okay, here;
watch out! there's a snake under that rock there!
recently I was given a computer, which I sort of forgot to remove from the back of my car and got very lucky, because it still works- so, today I went to get it out of my car. I carried it all the way to the porch as it singed my fingertips. I guess I wasn't thinking. but once I got it inside and set it down, I looked down at my fingertips and they are oh so pink and burnt. I suppose from working with coffee all the time, I'm used to my burning fingertips, but this time it left a mark. and this is when I acknowledged the sound of heat. I should know to heed warning from the sound before slinging around metal that has been sitting in a hell fire oven of a car for days. alas, this is my one brainless move of today. but really, I'm ready for summer to be over. even the juicy little tomatoes in the garden are beginning to dry and prune from the heat. I love the hills and the country of Texas, but during the summer I am relieved to be in Central-ish Austin. The outdoors can be so wonderful most of the time, even in the heat, but a bicycle ride in the city to my favorite watering hole is somehow a more realistic notion than traipsing around in the sun, looking for a true watering hole in the hill country. I'm pretty sure I'm just saying all of this to justify to myself why it is good for me to stay in the house today. what is so scary about the heat? discomfort? is it me being lazy? since I have a difficult time sweating, does the heat effect me more than most? I love the cold. I'm pretty sure it was a decision that I personally made... to love the cold. I'm attempting to recall a time when I even tried convincing myself that I love the heat. Occasionally I will climb into an oven-y car in the summertime and feel a deep, hot pressure and I will think to myself. 'wow. if only heat could feel like this all the time.' I'd probably die of heat stroke because I would lock myself in hot vehicles. like those babies that parents forget in their cars at day care centers. I know. it's a terrible notion, but maybe, just maybe, the last feeling those babies feel is that comforting deep, hot pressure. or maybe I'm just hoping that it's not as terrible as it sounds. so.... that's probably kind of a stomach-flopping subject for most to read. sorry about that. it's reality, sort of. >photo by laurel coyle
this week I was invited out east to the Little family farm. it was wonderful. while there, I met many chickens and roosters, a turken, two kittens and their momma, a donkey called willa may, many female goats for milking, three male goats for killing, and about five sheep. the sheep make noises that make me giggle. they sound as if someone with a hoarse voice is imitating what a sheep could sound like. the land is beautiful and lush, with an expansive and impressive garden. i played horseshoes for the very first time in my life... I think that, with practice, I will one day not feel ashamed of my throwing skills. traipsing around in the tall grass made me miss living out in dripping springs with mom. speaking of mom, she placed third in the Wimberley Valley Art League Juried Show! I am so proud of her! take a peak at her blog... her paintings become more beautiful and unique every time. most recently, I feel she has been more self expressive through her work than any other time...
last week. michelle and I rode around east austin after I had a wonderful dinner with mom. I carried around a jar of colloidal silver that mom gave me the whole time. we happened to venture into an art show at some new condos (yuck) across from the blue dahlia and longbranch... it consisted of colorful bingo chips placed on overhead projectors shining on white gallery walls. the outcome was soothing and reminded me of cellular structures. we ran into some friends of ours, michael and jon who I know from the vanilla wafer project. we made our way up to the roof, though construction was still underway. stayed up there for a little bit, but were kicked off. I guess they were afraid we would throw each other off the roof. although the condos are silly, unsightly monsters, the roof provided us an amazing view of downtown austin and some wonky roofs of old homes on the east side... I love austin. it is definitely my home. .
(laurel allwyn schaertl coyle) this is just some random spatter from my brain. most of the photos I post are taken by yers truly. love it, hate it, like it, think it's sort of okay, or feel general apathy. it's up to you.
