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[saintorr]

FAMOUS NEIGHBOR

FAMOUS NEIGHBOR c. 2017 by St.Orr

My neighbor is a rising star; not quite 30, he makes quilts and sells them for thousands. His followers on Instagram will soon number half a million. He’s not friendly and appears medicated, as if living daily on a high dose of anti-depressants. He’s cold as ice really, with vacant empty eyes, as he floats down the street like a zombie, insulated from the world by his headphones. He seems upset if you speak to him. Of course, who I am to judge? He’s unlocked the key to success, his life has one single, burning focus--making quilts and taking pictures of them. Quilts of diamond patches and rainbow colors, both classic and modern designs. Though new at it, he’s truly mastered the style, the craft, the jargon, the design process itself—he makes it all sing. Sometimes he incorporates warm, cuddly animals, happy dragons or serious owls, Alpine Rose, Leap frog, Grandmother’s secret; a startled cat, or a sly fox; and all, all in some mad, luscious cacophony of colors; stars, triangles, tiles, and rays. His life has become extremely focused and he excels at that kind of monochrome zone-being the ultra successful elite procure. For you see, it’s irrelevant what I, or anybody else thinks, (including his lover), for he will be a millionaire someday, probably travel the world, connect with famous designers and possibly run factories; all from this art which he discovered after graduating in Public Relations and working in advertising for seven years, grooming and growing and getting to know the fine art of social media to sell and promote, to connect with that virtual zeitgeist, that collective ooze and yearning for warm puppies and all things cute and nice and Hello Kitty! Then, this lucky young prince found the joy of making quilts and discovered gold. Would that my talent could so simply claim its heart’s desire like a hunter claims his kill, or a mountain lion it’s prey. But no. I am part this and that, I flit from here to there, too old to deign to mine my own monochrome-zone; too needful of creature comforts; the worship of the sun, wine, men and music; too longing for the touch of semi-wild gypsy cats or the lust to capture with my finger on the shutter of my Android a dying robin’s last night on earth. Bless him. Maybe I will pay him $200 an hour for a consultation so that I too, may learn through the magic of hashtags and branding, the fine art of manipulation. For then, I too can master social media, and I too, can be a rising star. Good at any age.