Aboveground

Tony went to fight in Belfast
Rudie stayed at home to starve
I could make it all worthwhile as a rock'n'roll star
Bevan wants to change the nation
Sammy wants to churn the world, well he can tell you that he tried
I can make a transformation as a rock'n'roll star
- "Star," David Bowie

I have been living on music and snow..."You Could Have It So Much Better" pumps through my head as I tramp across the slush-covered pavement, a mantra of dissatisfaction to match the moody grey skies. The air isn't quite cold enough to merit an overstuffed coat so I am able to wander unhampered, a fog spirit clad in blazer and vest.
Out the window I can see the slush melting on the fairy lights draped so elegantly over the garden. The sparkle of the snow and the crystalline drops that hang off the juniper bows contrats oddly with the grimy pavement; the bottle caps and broken glass crushed in the gutter. The resulting sheen is reminiscent of a Hollywood film from the age of glamour: Ingrid Bergman clad in a slightly destroyed gown, Marlene Dietrich's sequins in blurry black and white. The city is a wild exotic filmstar and I am an autograph-hunting fan.
I'm just a voice in your earpiece
Telling you NO! It's not all right!
You know you could have it so much better
You could have it so much better
If you tried!
I've been trying, though. I have ripped and clawed myself into a persona but I am not quite done. I am not yet ready to emerge from my chrysalis as... what? I do not know yet. It'll be interesting to see.
Today the clouds hang low over the mountains. The evergreens are outlined in snow crystals like the elfin forest of my childhood. If the town is a filmstar then the mountains are the dancing princesses, untouchable in their sparkling gowns.
But to paraphrase some feminist, an ivory pedestal is, like all small places, a prison. The world of glamour goes hand in hand with the world of elegant decay, the stylized demise of Sid and Nancy or the glamourous end of Marilyn Monroe. I could choose that life and my beautiful underground daydream, but I don't think I will. The subcurrents of the city are calling me with the scent of incense and the beat of some strange music. I will continue to live on music and snow, turning away from all the dead idols, Marilyn, Nancy, Jayne, that beautiful tragic Nico.
You're just a voice in my earpiece
Telling me NO! It's not all right
I know I could have it so much better
I could have it so much better
If I try!
The light is fading out the window, letting the fairly lights shine through with added brightness. They have the golden glow of the sequins in the costume closet or a candleflame on a dark night. The sky has turned a pearly grey to match the freezing slush on the pavement. Somewhere out there someone is playing my song on their stereo- "The Prisoner"-although they may not be thinking of me. Maybe I'll dream about rock'n'roll...if I stay aboveground. I will.

So inviting-so enticing to play the part
I can make a transformation as a rock'n'roll star!
I could do with the money (You know that I could)
I'm so wiped out with things as they are (You know that I could)
I send my photograph to my honey
And come home like a regular superstar!