Archive of ‘Tales of another kind’ category

Why I need to read more Wild(WILDE)

Clara Bow-Wings-circa 1927

“How can a woman be expected to be happy with a man who  insists on treating her as if she were a perfectly normal human being.”
–Oscar Wilde

ha, Exactly. In other words don’t treat her like everyone else. She is special.. durp. Here is another gem:

“I regard the theatre as the greatest of all art forms, the  most immediate way in which a human being can share with another the sense of  what it is to be a human being.”
-Oscar  Wilde

and…

“I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single  word of what I am saying.”
–Oscar  Wilde

——> More Quotes Here <———

I seriously nearly forgot how much I love Oscar Wilde, even though sometimes I find him arrogant he also has some great one liners. Today I found myself having a bit of the blues so….I decided to wander the Village (Greenwich) in search of ghosts. Perhaps if I looked hard enough a little of old New York would find me through an old relic or perhaps while sitting in a Cafe the ghosts of days gone by would send a little of their sweet energy my way. Cafe Wha? Being an everlasting monument to the days of yore. I could imagine the people who once filled the sidewalks late at night and wandered as I did, contemplating what it all means or just having a rip-roaring good time.

In a way, perhaps it was the combination of the damp chilly weather, nostalgia and reading semi-depressing literature that made me want to find these ghosts to extract some sort of feeling, of total self-expression, rock n’ roll, freedom and dark-eyed brooding. I wanted to time warp to when New York was something people still wrote about in books. The musical legends, the poets, the writers, the artists. That is the New York I fell in love with. So today I went searching for a little bit of it, if only whats left are cobble stones and pictures, whispers that drift in the wind.

I was reminded of my not too far off youth spent smoking clove cigarettes (they were black after all) and spending time in little indie cafe’s trying to decode what the hell James Joyce was talking about and/or day dreaming of being a heavy handed kohl eyed literary genius or simply Audrey Hepburn in her Beatnik garb in Paris dancing a perfectly choreographed piece “spontaneously.”  Then again I was supposed to start a garage band too….

This was the mood I was in so I was especially fond of this pop up shop I discovered in the Village that had a nice little array of somewhat dark material, I managed to grab a business card, worth a look-see below:

http://www.evolvinghabitat.com

Nature, little skeletons, splash dyed shoes, and light boxes of ships, wolves and owls… what’s not to love ?! There was also a little stand full of spooky necklaces that a couple had made with found objects and things from archeological digs, dating back to the 1800’s ! They were also sourced locally, Brooklyn, Manhattan, etc.. It was old and very much the type of relic I sought after.. I imagined by having it around my neck I could physically melt a little bit of history into my skin and carry it with me, some substance of an old city. I’ll have to go back for that one… Amongst the little gems I came across I also found a tiny store front painted in neon that was all Lebowski themed! Yes. It does exist and you can order online.

In my search for all things past and surprises present I was reminded of how much I love collecting old photographs of strangers and postcards too, especially ones written in beautiful penmanship no longer taught in school, to their family members or lovers. Love Letters and war-time letters are my favorites. They’re endearing, sometimes funny, sometimes sad.  You can find piles of these discarded memories and people in antique shops, leftovers from photography studios or someones attic. I enjoyed making up stories about what they might have been like and what their lives consisted of. I’ve always found it interesting how people can be fooled by illusions. A pretty face can obscure something ugly and vica versa… as cliché’ as it may sound beauty really is only skin deep so you better like whats inside the package as well.Unless you only care about pomp and circumstance. I like to skim more than just the surface.

Being a woman of 28, sadly I realize we exist in a world that increasingly seems to equate beauty with only youth in women …it goes backwards away from you as time lurches forward (Turns out you can apply moisturizer excessively but cannot stop the hands of Father time from creeping forward, I digress) I’d like to think somewhere there is an island, a society possibly *gasp* (or a Dove Beauty Campaign lol) that still values and celebrates us (and fantasizes! duh.) after we are no longer teenagers for christs sake. In a seemingly hyper sexualized environment that makes youth the ruler by which we all have to measure … Sometimes the immaturity of it all is disconcerting…..A flower is beautiful in full bloom but… I mean c’mon…. Is there any left…Guys? Robots?!? Aliens from Mars??.. Anyone?!!?… in this world that still find 20 somethings (and 30ish lol) more fuckable and interesting over youngins’ ?… ugh. alas. pardon my french, mon amis. I’ll just be over here in a cafe plotting world take over in frustration with the other (might I add…smokin’ hot ! Yowza ! haha..) “Grandmas” …  haha..Meh. I’m moving to another planet. And now…For your viewing pleasure ….a pile of wrinkles ! Nooooo ! ….on an adorable little creature… see below 🙂  Almost fooled ya! It was totally almost a picture of the Queen of England. wah wah.

While I didn’t fully accomplish my goal of finding a hookah bar and sipping tea whilst contemplating the universe, the point of it all?? and reading this current book I have … a tragedy so far.. (the heroine is just so heavy.. perhaps I should construct my own novel, or novella with a main character full of lightness …. yes? ) I did however indulge in some peppermint tea and vegan tacos at a small eatery and people watched. (Delicious in case you were wondering..)

Before my walk back to the train I briefly stopped in front of a palm readers shop and contemplated going in… I wanted the woman inside to reveal some hidden secret, or amazing future predictions or at least just tell me that I was okay. That somewhere in this shallow pond, deep thinkers and wise Men still existed en masse. I decided against it though and crammed the $10 back into the pocket of my faded black jeans. I’ll save it for another chilly damp New York City day.

I leave you with this parting gift:

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UxXW6tfl2Y0]

AND..

[youtube=http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xKkp8R35l2g]

Even in the centuries which appear to us to be the most  monstrous and foolish, the immortal appetite for beauty has always found satisfaction.
-Charles  Baudelaire

It is the nature of the wise to resist pleasures, but the foolish to be a slave to them.
-Epictetus

******CHEERS !******

They call me Mr. X

Ughhhhh……Another blurry eyed morning. One could expect no different when waking up at the ungodly hour of 5 A.M. The alarm was smashed months ago and yet small pieces can still be found by your foot… when you get a plastic shard stuck into the bottom of it. The red seeps up to the surface as you hop around swearing. It had shattered rather easily as the force behind it was great. Ever taken physics? Me neither. Boring shit. But I suppose there is some law about this type of occurrence in there somewhere… No matter, I still wake up on time anyways because it seems my internal alarm and the external one were in kahootz. They were probably in love and so…since the death of its counterpart happened by my hands its exacting some sick twisted revenge on me…… hm. Maybe I’m just not a morning person.

“Not to mention your suit is a crumpled up mess.” Sam.

I haven’t used an iron since, well…..the incident, but if I hang my suit up just right, the shower steam works alright, and besides I don’t care enough about my job to be “wrinkle free” anyhow, what do they expect? I could wear a polyester suit but then I’d sweat balls and look like a fucking lounge lizard. (And not the ones that get loads of girls either…) Hmmm do they?

“Get girls??? of course they do! They get all kinds. Mostly the ones who are looking for love and attention that they didn’t get from their Fathers so they try boys who then try to become men and if that fails, they try God or politics. Pffft. How do you figure all the politicians get laid? God on the other hand, well I don’t know about him…hey, have you seen the neighbor girl lately? I’d sure like summa that.. Mmmm Mm!” Sam.

I need some orange juice. I LOVE orange juice, well as much as you can love something that you can’t copulate with or write sonnets to. I drink so much I actually got a cavity from it, go figure, its supposed to be good for you but it rots your teeth out….at least it did mine.. everything in moderation I suppose.

“HA! Moderation??? What do you know about that?! Night after night you—–“

THATS ENOUGH SAM !

After my orange juice I like to take a looonng shower, as it’s one of the few moments in the day where I get a release. A physical release from the sore aching muscles, a sexual release to rev up my endorphins and a mental release to pretend, at least for a moment that I’m actually clean. Soon after that its business as usual. I watch my bosses leech their way past peoples borders, like the mussels that sneak into foreign bodies of water on the hull of a ship, only then to disengage and populate in its new found territory, slowly destroying the local eco-system… What I do is not pretty, not pretty like the strawberry blonde in her high heels that lives next door. Too bad she isn’t legal yet… no matter, she serves her purpose in my daily morning shower routine well enough… maybe I need to find something to cling to like those lost girls….. because right now my convictions are few if any.

“The only thing you believe in is that white powder you like the smell of so much..” Sam, this time with even more of a horrific sneer on his face.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP SAMUAL!!” 

My Therapist said if I ignored this, it would go away, it would all go away, the world I lived in would fall away from me in pieces like a crumbling wall, or break like my alarm clock against that plaster wall… I only wish it would.

I want your mish mash kiss attack.

“Your ever so confusing.” She thought as she watched him eye her carelessly, not unlike one half reads a diner menu. She had been the dinner earlier. He had picked her up again that morning pretending to carry her across “the threshold” before throwing her back on the bed. She wondered what the point was to any of it. She needed more than jokes and good times. No matter. It would all be over soon anyway, just as watercolor is so transparent and messy, so was he.

“Your doing it again.” His voice broke the silence of her daydream. “Doing what….?” feigning attentiveness once again.

“You know.” … a wry smile spread across his square jaw.

Dammit. Damn his handsomeness, damn his wit, this could go on forever and she’d gladly let it, biting her lip all the while. It was dark, the room dim but his face lit up every time he inhaled the blue grey smoke into his lungs from the black clove cigarette. She had met him on the boardwalk…

“What are you thinking about?” his voice prodding the dark once more, ripping her thoughts open at the seams. Funny, she never noticed how the stars resembled hole punches in the sky…like black construction paper at the mercy of a kindergartner in art class who took too much liberty in destruction.

“Diners.”

He laughed, smoke billowing out of his nostrils like some chinese parade dragon.

“Your funny…. what are you really thinking about??” She hesitated, to tell him the truth would just set everything back to the beginning, and an awkward silence would ensue. She stalled for time with a kiss. On that summer day of what seemed like so long ago…she remembered the ocean, how the air carried bits of salt and sand..and the taste of it on her lips, how an odd flavor was created between her breath and his in between stolen glances behind dark sunglasses…. When it was still a thing of importance to him to tell her how pretty she was in her dress…. These are the guts that love is made of, the sparks that start the fire…the hard part is making these moments last for all time. Can they? Except in photographs and embellished memories that over time become warped into semi-accurate pictures. Her Mother always told her to not rely on anyone.. yet here she was fighting her stubborn will hopelessly to not get weak in the knees, to not be…weak. Too late.

Strewn about the room was a mess of what she used to be wearing… a heel there.. somewhere in this reckless abandon her car keys…before she could think any further his arm pulled her closer, tight, strong. She enjoyed this highly as sometimes it was nice to feel protected, and no matter, she liked to play rough.

“You still haven’t told me kitten.” he nibbled on her lower lip as she struggled to get out a muffled “What?”

“Oh ya… nothing, who needs talk when we’ve got a bed and a bottle of champagne chilling?” He had let go of her lip and rested her body against his as he arched his head back and looked up at her with those big eyes, oh those eyes ! “Whatever you want beautiful.”

*sigh* How could she tell him now, it would have to wait, she wanted this to last. She wanted to stay in this slow motion day dream like swimming underwater. Even if she ran out of breath. For him, it’d be worth it.

(I’m leaving the rest up to your imagination dear reader, for isn’t it half the fun to fill in the blanks yourself? If anyone wants a part 2 I will oblige but until then.. I think audience participation is fun, don’t you?)