Purple Words: Being Vincent Van Gogh

On the day before the Parade:

I fastened the handles on the golden Frame

with great difficulty, gilded the protruding screws,

located and steamed the turquoise velvet outfit,

and found the sunflower brooch.

I had previously grown out the side parts

of my beard out and dyed it orange in order

to be Vincent Van Gogh: a walking painting.

I had thought it would be great if a group of Artists

were to come as either their own artworks

or other famous paintings or sculptures.

We would be an Artwalk where instead of the people walking

by the Art, the Art would walk past the people.

On the day of the Fremont Solstice Parade,

the make-up was truly like oil paint as

I built up the layers into a reasonable

facsimile of Vincent’s self-portrait

with brushes which gunked up,

sponges that disintegrated,

difficulties with hair-sprays

and a bobby pin which despite

the efforts of many people resisted

all attempts to restrain my beard or

remain invisible during my time as

Vincent. At last I had to be satisfied

with my efforts and began my Walk.

I walked downtown and curiously enough

very few people looked my way or even looked

like people trying to get to the Parade,

I chose a number Fifteen bus to Ballard,

(instead of my usual number Seventeen

walk across the bridge along with the throngs)

and walked another mile along the Burke-Gilman

to join the colorful chaos of the staging area.

I found the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence

first and then I saw others that I knew

finally my friends with the Emerald City

Social Club that I usually walked with appeared,

but not unsurprisingly none of those

I had invited to be a Work of Art with me.

Margo made me look comparatively tame

in comparison with her Electric Blue body suit

which had 1200 Fluorescent Green earplugs hot-glued

to it in addition to her Fluorescent Pink heels

and two bubble guns, only one of which worked.

She got the majority of attention after we jumped

in following the Phoenix group and before

a Dance & Drum group because we’ve found

that it’s necessary to have good music going

to keep everything moving along pleasantly.

Vincent and I had our admirers among the crowds,

most of which got who or what I was,

though some called me Picasso or Miro

and I had to correct their mistaken impression.

I was repeatedly told that “I had been framed!”

and of course, I got the thing about the ear.

With the Frame, I was able to coax out a few people

from the crowd and be in the picture with me.

This included children as well as adventurous

teens and adults who enjoyed the opportunity

to be part of the action if only briefly.

The handles on the Frame were not so easy

on my hands which cramped-up and the sly brass

numbed my fingertips and even on the next day,

my left index finger remains partially numb

and wasn’t the only consequence of my Parading.

The Fremont Solstice Parade is about two miles long

and by the time my section of it had reached Gasworks,

I was glad I didn’t have to hold up the frame anymore as

my fingertips were now numb and my feet were buzzing

with that peculiar energy which comes from dancing,

standing still for the cameras and just being part

of the whole extravaganza.

As was my Solstice tradition, I walked back along the

Parade route to view those acts which had followed mine.

Then having done my bit to bring in Summer, I left Fremont

and the Fair foregoing the no doubt lengthy

waits for packed buses and began my long walk

home by way of a path next to Lake Union with

the Frame digging its way into my shoulders.

I went through the new-to-me Maritime Park,

past the geese, over a bridge, past a Naval building

now shuttered that I had welcomed one New Years Eve in,

by the Center For Wooden Boats and it’s seemingly

attendant Orange canopies in a Park still in formation.

From there I made my way through the Mercer Mess

up Fairview contemplating finding a meal, but those

places I found along the way were either closed,

uninteresting or nonexistent and I continued on up

that last and steepest stretch: Denny Hill walking

8 ½ miles altogether for the day all in the name of Art.

Then I hung out with friends to give my feet a rest

while they wondered why I didn’t remove my make-up.

Having had nothing to eat except cereal, I planned

to go out one last time to a well deserved dinner as

Vincent Van Gogh complete with my Frame, I chose

Julia’s on Broadway as my spot to hang out at.

Unfortunately, they had no Absinthe with which

to add that touch of verisimilitude at the Green Hour,

so I had a Lemon Drop instead and a pasta dish

to satisfy my appetite and energy needs though

like earlier in the day relatively few even glanced in.

I had learned a few years back to avoid eating the food

at the Fair after having been blessed with Food Poisoning

from improperly made or cooked Crab Cakes which caused me

to projectile vomit and pass out three times each,

I had also learned the futility of eating in a

well-established restaurant there which were packed with

Fremont Fair-Goers and had their own harried staffs.

On the way back from Julia’s, I found a pack of

The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence outside of C.C. Attles

where my Frame provided numerous Photo Ops

for everyone who wanted to get into the picture

one last time. I went home and began to bid farewell

to Vincent Van Gogh with cleansing pads and a bath.

---Purple Mark 061612