Friday, September 26, 2014


Kirsten Dunst in "Melancholia"
My parents were hippies. When I got straight A’s in 1st grade my dad took me to the opera. He gets all pink faced when he tells the story of me being entranced by the spectacle, at the edge of my seat while the old man near us was falling asleep. 

We used to spend Sunday’s downtown riding the deserted monorail, going to the big library and the museum of modern art. 

We lived in this apartment when they first got divorced. I used to make rope swings in the trees and read and watch people go into their homes. We’d roller blade to Al’s pizza and bike down the secret path to the beach. Or when the rockets would launch from Kennedy Space Center Dad would take us to the secret beach to watch take off. 

My father thinks I’m magical, he thinks I’m a special girl, that I’m this bright shiny curious girl. Dad loves curious girls, those manic pixie dream girls, he’s happy I’m one. Too bad the the bright shiny youth always falls to depression when the other girls squeal about clothes and how “sweet” everyone is. 

Close your eyes when the curiosity of childhood turns to anxiety and the father you once loved is really just and alcoholic artist.When the your heroes become human, who do look up to?

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