Amused Cynic

So…here we go. Going over was a snap, one of the easiest overseas flights I’ve ever had. USAirways. The 767 was only half full, so everybody was crashing out all over the place with multiple seats available to anyone who wanted to get up and move. Pretty sweet, but I guess a fair barometer of the bad economy. Lots of people got a good sleep on the way over, including me, for a change.

The purpose of this particular trip was a painting course, taught by a famous artist. I was not the student. When I met the artist, and his other 5 students, he asked me why I was there. I said “royal consort.” Which was true. I was just there for sex and romance and the lovely surroundings. So sue me. This was a spousal junket, as far as I was concerned.

But….they were an interesting bunch, and I got to be quite fond of them over the course of our short week of proximity. These were serious painters. One of them was a very tough, beautiful single lady from Australia, proud of her collection of ex-boyfriends around the world, who still considered her a friend…and I could see why they would. Very cool lady.

Another was a young mother of three, from the deep south. She was about to adopt yet another child, this one from a war-torn region of Africa. She was young enough, and conservative enough, to be my own daughter. Loved her to pieces. She became my surprise ally when we got into politics at some of our dinners. Cute as hell, but tough as nails, and she ran her own business back home in Alabama with her husband, with whom she home-schooled the kids in her “spare time.”

Then there was the lovely woman from Ohio who was doing a kind of Diane Lane thing, that “Under the Tuscan Sun” thing, after a divorce, and she was doing it beautifully. I liked her a lot. Just a sweet, cool lady, I envision great things for her. She was a terrific painter. She was in her early 60s, but looked a good 15 years younger, and the local men were taking notice.

I spent most of my time hiking around, or taking the various ferries, anything to avail myself of the beautiful scenery and history. But I also got invited to the dinner gatherings, which meant that I had to participate in the “truth or dare” sorts of questions that they popped on each other.

For me, the big question was why I didn’t want to paint with the rest of them. Fair enough. I’ve just never had the urge to paint, even though I love looking at good painting. So…what is my artistic outlet? They asked, so I had to answer, and the answer for me has always been music.

On our last night out together, I was handed a guitar, and I had already told the painting teacher that the Counting Crows were among my favorite musical artists. So I played this one, which had this wonderfully a propos verse….

I wanna paint myself a picture
I wanna paint myself in blue and red and black and gray
All of the beautiful colors are very very meaningful
Gray is my favorite color
I felt so symbolic yesterday
If I knew Picasso
I would buy myself a gray guitar and play

Mr. Jones and me look into the future
Stare at the beautiful women
“She’s looking at you.
Uh, I don’t think so. She’s looking at me.”
Standing in the spotlight
Look at me, I bought myself this gray guitar
When everybody loves me, I will never be lonely

I want to be a lion
Everybody wants to pass as cats
We all want to be big big stars, but we got different reasons for that
Believe in me because I don’t believe in anything
and I want to be someone to believe

Mr. Jones and me stumbling through the barrio
Yeah we stare at the beautiful women
“She’s perfect for you, Man, there’s got to be someone for me.”
I want to be Bob Dylan
Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky
When everybody loves you, that’s just about as fucked up as you can be…

Mr. Jones and me….we don’t see each other that much anymore….

As Adam said, “this is a song about my dreams.” I loved playing that song there at the lake. I think I know who Mr. Jones is, and I’ve wrestled with him my whole life. More pictures from my Italy trip tomorrow.