July Flame

Originally posted July 5th 2023

For the last 13 years, every July, I get July Flame by Laura Veirs stuck in my head. It plays in the background as I wake up to the humidity and thunderstorms, when I’m dabbing sweat off my forehead, staring into the city mugginess. I remember when I first head the song, it was back when iTunes would do a free single of the week, and July Flame was one of them. I was 15 years old, still deep into emo and screamo but there were hints of something new emerging. I wanted more quiet, got into acoustic music and film soundtracks. But there was still the teen angst that needed to be shaken off.

The song always reminds me of the film Somersault (2004), which I had watched around the same time. It’s about a teenage girl who run away from home, ends up living in a random woman’s house and starts a relationship with an older man. I was very into the lead actor and was going through his filmography (how many of us have watched countless shite films for hot actors?). The film at first didn’t resonate with me. I might have even been angry at it, because it doesn’t end happily. But it stuck with me and I think of it often. Now I know it couldn’t have ended any other way, after 13 years more of living, a happy ending isn’t the point. It takes place in winter, so in July I’m always thinking about a depressing snowy Australian indie drama as a melancholy love song plays on loop.

I spent the weekend in the Catskills, NY, hoping for the rain to let up so I could go on a hike or sight see. The visibility was limited, our campground mostly filled with RVs and people better prepared for bad weather. I could hardly sleep in our tent, hearing random noises and whispers that were too close for comfort. At 4am my sister and I both woke up to a loud thud, we didn’t say a word. When people say “the silence was deafening” it really is true. We held our breath, waiting for another sound but also really hoping there wouldn’t be. I’ll admit, I thought there was a bear outside and I was hyper aware that the only thing that separated us was a thin piece of polyester. We had a small hammer for the tent pegs, I couldn’t find my pocket knife. Peaking out the bits of mesh waiting to see something move. I knew we needed to get into the car, whether it was a bear or people (or nothing), the tent was the last place I wanted to be. I wrapped the sleeping bag over my head and grabbed my bag, thinking if there was a bear I would look big enough to scare it off.

The car we rented was a white Jeep pickup truck, not what my sister had ordered but the only car available. It had a narrow windshield and bare bones insulation. It was raining and as the windows fogged up I tried to get back to sleep, whilst in my peripheral things kept moving. When I woke up again around 8:30 my sister and I debriefed. We had both heard someone messing with our car doors around 12am and we both kept feeling things moving around us during the night.

It was pouring rain outside, the day cold and miserable. We were tired and quickly bored after spending the morning driving around the same looking houses and roads. We couldn’t figure out where the hell people went grocery shopping. About half the houses were abandoned. All the little main streets were empty, I wondered what it looked like when they thrived or if they ever even managed to. We saw 8 Dollar Generals, 7 Dunkin Doughnuts, 7 “blue lives matter” flags and 6 pride flags. There were so many, many churches. For such small towns I don’t know how they manage to maintain 3-4 separate congregations. I felt out of place, a city-slicker come to gawk at the small towners.

We decided to head back home early due to the weather and possible attempted car break in. We stopped at a roadside fruit stand, saw a little boy washes radishes, bought some jams and honey with comb inside. A sign for the Vanderbilt Mansion popped up so we detoured over. Funnily, it’s located in Hyde Park, Duchess County. The mansion itself was ugly, sandstone with modern black windows, a design choice I just couldn’t understand. But the grounds were gorgeous. A lovely garden where an incredibly enthusiastic New Yorker told us a bit about the greenhouse building. The trees were giant and protected us for the most part from the rain. There were some goats eating poison oak along a steep hill overlooking the Hudson. A bit later we found a thrift shop in Red Hook, got some cheap records including Joni Mitchell’s Court and Spark.

On Monday, since we had the car for a bit longer, we drive to Coney Island, on the way accidentally taking the bridge to Staten Island and now owe a few tolls. We drove past roads called Brighton Beach 1, 2, 3, & 4. I got scared and didn’t want to park and see the beach so we wandered a while and ended up at Target. Target is like a big Tesco but with everything (furniture, tech, a weird book section that’s very hit ‘n miss, food, clothes, it’s all there). I literally gulped when I saw how many people were going in and out. The lights are florescent, it was noisy, people were rushing around. But after my initial panic I settled in. I found the trip novel, looking at the kitsch home decor and admittedly falling for the 30% sale. When we left the sun was setting, people were taking pictures and fishing along the waterline. Spotted the Statue of Liberty. I didn’t see the ocean but I went shopping in a sensory hellhole. Capitalism overcomes agoraphobia I suppose.

Today is the 4th of July and it’s been on and off rain all day. Most shops are closed and the streets are quiet. I’ve crashed a bit after such an intense weekend, I did more I think in the last few days than I have in months? I unpacked. I cleaned. On an emotional comedown, trying not to give into my usual self-talk. Singing to myself a little, trying to fill in the space not with noise to drown things out but to let things in.

Thank you for reading,

Enya xx