I opened my door to him wiping his rain-soaked glasses on his cravat. His hair, damp and slick, swept over his temples like wings.
How beautiful he is. And how lost.
A smile cuts across his lips. "I came halfway 'round the world hoping you'd ached for me a little."
When I kiss him, an uncontained ferocity struggles out of me, pushing him up against the wall. I imagine the quiet shift of bones against the unrelenting sharp edges of unfinished brick. His pulse beats like quicksilver, and I don't miss how he shudders, just a little, when I press tightly against him, scraping my teeth on the sensitive skin over his jugular. I'm wrapped up in the tempo of his blood flowing, the pleasurepain osmosing through flesh. I want to see him shatter and pierce my hands on the splintered shards. I want my name smeared carmine-ripe on his mouth.
I've always been warned of men like him - the ones that drive you mad, suck you dry, steal your breath, twist you up beautifully until you're no longer a lily-white plane of smooth girl-flesh. He's the stuff of fractured fairytales, and at that moment I wasn't springtime and candy and the girl you'd take home to mother. I fucking love it, love him. He understands me, perhaps.
I take what I want, just as he'd always wanted me to.
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Nous sommes toute la vie
Et nous ne savons pas ce que c'est que l'amour
Et nous ne savons pas ce que c'est que la vieThis song somehow reminds me of you. Happy birthday, honey.
Just once in his life a man has his time and my time is now, I'm coming alive...
Gonna be your man in motion, all I need is a pair of wheels. Take me where my future's lyin'...
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Diego.
Nothing compares to your hands, nothing compares to your gold-green eyes. My body fills up with you for days and days, you are the mirror of night, the violent flash of lightning, the Earth's humidity. All my joy is in feeling life flow from your spring-flower, filling all the paths of my nerves, which are your own.
Truth is, so great, that I wouldn’t like to speak, or sleep, or love. To feel myself trapped, with no fear of blood, outside time and magic, within your own fear, and your anguish, and within the very beating of your heart. All this madness if I asked it of you, I know, in your silence, there would be only confusion. I ask you for violence, in the nonsense, and you, you give me grace, your light and your warmth.
My blood is the miracle that travels through the veins of the air, from my heart to yours...F.
Nasrudin was talking to a friend, who asked him:
‘Have you never considered getting married, Mullah?’
‘I have,’ replied Nasrudin. ‘In my youth, I resolved to find the perfect woman. I crossed the desert and reached Damascus, and I met a lovely, very spiritual woman, but she knew nothing of the world. I continued my journey and went to Isfahan; there I met a woman who knew both the spiritual and the material world, but she was not pretty. Then I decided to go to Cairo, where I dined in the house of a beautiful woman, who was both religious and a connoisseur of material reality.’
‘Why didn’t you marry her, then?’
‘Alas, my friend, she was looking for the perfect man.’
~ Paulo Coelho
This layout is dope ( image courtesy of newyorksocialdiary.com)
photo credit: www.patrickmoberg.com
We dream of hope. We dream of change. Of fire, of love, of death. And then it happens. The dream becomes real.
The huge elephant in the room that had eyed me balefully for the past several months suddenly went on the attack last night.
It jumped over the couch, sat on me and wouldn't let me breathe.
"Address me," it said.
"I can't," I responded.
"Then I'll keep haunting you."
Suddenly, the change in your life that should have been wonderful, comes as a betrayal. It may seem cruel, but the goal is nothing short of self-preservation. Survival.
I gestured around the room. There was an panda perched on the bookcase, an anteater curiously nosing a box of granola on the coffee table, and a Bengal tiger stalking the length of the kitchen.
"Suit yourself."
Evolution is an imperfect, and often violent process.The question of good and evil, reduced to one simple choice: Survive? Or perish? Where do we run, when things we believe in vanish before our eyes?
The most important question of all: Can we ever change what we really are?
quotes courtesy of Mohinder Suresh (Heroes)
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Costume season is here again. This year, I think I want to dress up as Aminta, the gypsy maiden in Don Juan Triumphant.
You have brought me / to that moment / where words run dry / to that moment / where speech disappears / into silence / silence . . . 
The tableaux won't be complete without the masked Don.
You have come here / in pursuit of your deepest urge / in pursuit of that wish / which till now / has been silent / silent . . .
Together we'll stage our version of a "passion-play" :)
Past all thought of "if" or "when" / no use resisting: abandon thought / and let the dream descend 
When will the blood / begin to race / the sleeping bud / burst into bloom? / When will the flames at last
consume us?
Past the point of no return / the final threshold / the bridge is crossed / so stand and watch it burn...
Aaarrrghh...I've been strolling past the Palais Garnier one too many times this week. Maybe I should so something about this *fantasy* by ------ --- ---- ------ -- -- this weekend ;)images: WB and ALW
lyrics: ALW
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...written at different points in my life (and never sent)
Dear D___n,
Remember how the warm Carribean sun mixed with the weight of the air, seeping through the cotton? It's the same heat that stretched and ripened those dirt roads. I remember telling you that I'm not inexhaustible and I'll run out. I was talking like a shell of myself. My soul was too engrossed with quenching itself in the blue-green waters.
Dear B___a,
Please keep that dress for me. I know that once in a while you take it out to admire the intricate lacework and meticulous embroidery contrasted with the hand-shredded silk. Every detail of that dress sits heavy on my heart, yet I cannot get rid of it. Physically, it fits well. Emotionally, I still need to grow into it.
Dear N___i,
The trip to Abu Simbel was incredible. I remember snacking on kofta and complaining that camels smelled of lead and moldy hay. I stood in awe of the Sun Temple and declared ,"Rameses is a god." Then I caught sight of Nefertari's temple of Hathor and sighed, "He is also a man."
Dear M___k,
For years I've been marooned to an abstract level of you. I realize now that I'm not an armchair shrink. I'm really sorry.
Dear J__g__r,
I don't believe in destiny. However, if destiny decides to come for me, I'd ride its death clap for all it's worth. I'd careen past a ruptured sky, picking up signs of my birthright along the way. And maybe, just maybe, I'd fall off and land in an unceremonious heap at your feet ( I'd love it if you'd at least help me up. )
Dear F.M.,
You introduced me to your patrons as your Francoise. But Francoise left Pablo too, didn't she?
Dear K____na,
When I met you in Darjeeling, I was only half of myself. I didn't care to talk about it, but something terrible happened in my life. There were days when it just hurt to wake up and fit in with the rest of the world. At first I thought it was funny, to have this world run by people who are half-whole. But there are a lot of them among us, you know, so beautiful and yet so broken inside. I've been wounded in a lot of ways that for a time I took care to look away from my scars, telling everyone else I'm okay, don't stare at me too much, there's nothing to see. I was learning to survive, and the whole process wasn't pretty. I didn't call or write home for a long time. I guess I was too busy refashioning myself into someone I could live with. I came to get back some of the meaning that awful experience took from me. I drew near the Himalayas to recall something I've forgotten. To be happy. To believe in myself again. To be free. To love.
And how I loved you. Hai pighla shaam ke sooraj ka sona, magar main sirf tumko dekhta hoon - hamein jab se mohabbat ho gayi hai.
R_____ha
Dear A____c,
...I think you do. It just takes time to realize it. You see, what you're looking for somehow you already know. The revelation could come to you in a burst of fireworks, a full orchestra. Or it could be quiet. I don't remember having any kind of special epiphany. For a while I lived my life without context, just getting by. But one day, I woke up and just felt happy. And some kind of sad. But overall I felt alive. Undoubtedly alive.
All of us have some kind of wilderness. Allow this place you're in now to convince you (or if you can take a bit of prurience, to strip you raw.) It's not such a bad thing.
Dear T___d,
I don't need saving. I don't want you to take the pain away. It's the only thing that's truly mine. Dreams must be worked for, earned through sweat and tears. That's why they're so precious. I'm never one to hold my dreams so cheaply. The way to achieving them is harsh and hard, but I won't be cheated of it. Not even by you.
Dear ________,
For a good number of reasons - what the hell does that mean? I only want you. There's nothing I would not give you. Nothing I would not do.
photo credit: E. Wilman
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Time to rock this baby
Shadows we cast on the ground
Never abandons us like the sun
Sometimes darkness makes us see
The deeper things that can't be shown
Light can bend and can deceive
Love is to trust when you do not know
If love is everything, let me just mix it all in
Black is the color of our love
Partial lyrics from The Key of E by R.A.L., performed live with NSBY Warehouse at M.A.S. near Amsterdam, September 13, 2008.
For the gentleman who loves me in midnight blue. I've always loved seeing you in black.
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At first I did it out of defiance, but as the evening wore on, I danced for the joy of it.
The music ended abruptly. After a long moment his hold loosened. He drew back slowly, cheek resting against my own.
“Thank you,” he said.
I couldn't stop smiling. An odd exuberance of something beautiful and newly-found had overtaken any form of speech.
"Rachel," he urged quietly."Let's go. Your flight to Paris leaves in two hours."
Sigh. Hot damn. Recalling that evening just reduced me to into a hormonal mess. I don't get many chances to be sentimental in a hard-nosed and itinerant business, so tonight I've decided to kick things up a notch and watch "Enchanted"(!) So break out the popcorn and call me Emo :)
Sigh. They may share the same build and (gasp!) hairstyle, but other than that, McDreamy's got nothing on him :P
You’re in my arms / And all the world is calm /The music playing on for only two / So close together / And when I’m with you /So close to feeling alive / A life goes by / Romantic dreams will stop /So I bid mine goodbye and never knew /So close was waiting, waiting here with you /And now forever I know / All that I wanted to hold you / So close / So close to reaching that famous happy end / Almost believing this was not pretend / And now you’re beside me and look how far we’ve come / So far we are so close / How could I face the faceless days / If I should lose you now? / We’re so close / To reaching that famous happy end / And almost believing this was not pretend / Let’s go on dreaming for we know we are / So close /So close /And still so far...
...y a la vez muy lejos
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"I met you all the way out here," I said, grinning. "What more do you want from me?"
I will be the answer
At the end of the line
He looked thoughtful for a moment. "A dance."
While you take the time
In the burning of uncertainty
"I'm sorry? You want to dance with me here, with all these people --"
His eyes darkened. "A dance, that's all. I've always loved dancing with you."
I will be your solid ground
I will hold the balance
If you can't look down
"That's sweet, but I don't think I will." I gave him an awkward smile. "But don't think I'll forget your invitation."
"I'm afraid I must insist," he said, his gaze never leaving mine. "Who knows when I'd see you again?"
If it takes my whole life
I won't break, I won't bend
I was faintly aware of the music and my growing sense of embarrassment. "Another time."
Cast me gently
Into morning
For the night has been unkind
"Rachel." He took my hand, turned it over, and started tracing the veins along my wrist. "One dance."
Cause I can only tell you what I know
That I need you in my life
I licked suddenly dry lips. "Okay," I replied quietly. "One dance."
When the stars have all gone out
You'll still be burning so bright
He laughed low in his throat. "That's my girl."
It will all be worth it
Worth it in the end
Answer by Sarah McLachlan
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I did it. I wrote and recorded a song. I feel like some sort of fever's broken.
"You have professional singing experience, yes?"
"No."
Throat clearing.
"You want to be famous, yes?"
"With an insane amount of luck,maybe. No, I actually just want to sing this stuff I wrote. You listen and see if I'm good enough for you. Otherwise thank you and I'll be on my way."
"What is your song about?"
"Airplanes."
"Airplanes."
"And airports and skylines and postcards."
More throat clearing.
Then it happened. "OK."
So that's how I got my start.
It was an awesome experience. I'm always gonna love Amsterdam for giving me a chance. Goed bezig mannen!
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Look into it too closely and it looks back at you
Les Irises Mauves by Claude Monet
Summer has come and passed
The innocent can never last
Wake me up when September ends
Like my fathers come to pass
Seven years has gone so fast
Wake me up when September ends
Here comes the rain again
Falling from the stars
Drenched in my pain again
Becoming who we are
As my memory rests
But never forgets what I lost
Wake me up when September ends
Ring out the bells again
Like we did when spring began
Wake me up when September ends
...has begun.
Wake Me Up When September Ends by Green Day
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****************
I Girasoli ( The Sunflower ) (1970) Oh, and interesting tidbit - George Lucas modeled the lightsaber on Zatoichi's lightning draw. No doubt he was also inspired by the prevailing theme of the series: the superman-in-everyman.
Filmmaker Vittorio di Sica conceived this movie as a dramatic vehicle to further his anti-war stance. Antonio and Giovanna are an Italian couple whose newlywed life is cut short when Antonio is sent to the Russian front in the waning days of WW2. A short time later Antonio is declared missing in action. Unwilling to accept that her husband is dead, Giovanna embarks on a mission to find him.The trail leads her to a small town in Russia, where she finds him in a state of tidy domesticity with a peasant girl whom he married out of gratitude for saving him from near-death in the bitter cold of the steppes. Devastated, Giovanna returns to Italy.
Realizing he is still in love with his first wife, Antonio follows her back to attempt a reconciliation. The film's poignant denouement, shot at a train station, will remain one of the most moving scenes in cinematic history. The complicated layers of love, loss and loyalty are beautifully essayed by the legendary tandem of Loren and Mastroianni and underscored by the lush arrangement of composer Henry Mancini (Pink Panther theme, Moon River).
Black (2005)
A bristling hulk of human frailty is asked to tutor a blind deaf-mute. She's headstrong and violent in her frustrated attempts to understand the world beyond her lost senses. He's in turns drunk and rude, pushing and bullying her to break through the constraints of her handicap. Over the course of the movie what started out as an uneasy truce blossoms into a fond camaraderie.
Rani Mukherjee's Michelle McNally's jerky histrionics and almost-willful enthusiasm in the face of her disability is the perfect counterpoint to Amitabh Bachchan's Debraj Sahai, the world-weary teacher who slowly deals with losing his memories to Alzheimer's with all the curmudgeonly hauteur of a King Lear. Named one of the 10 best films of 2005 by Time Magazine, this gem of a film firmly secured Bollywood's place in world cinema.
Zatoichi Chikemuri Kaido (literally "Zatoichi's Spurting Blood Road") / Zatoichi Challenged (1967)
My dad's always been a fan of Shintaro Katsu. He recently sent me a cache of movies on his favorite blind blademaster, along with a note: "A cane sword, straw sandals and a passion for dice - that's what a real superhero is all about." After watching a handful of movies in the series, what it's pretty much all about to me is a gleeful slicing and dicing through a gaggle of 'hoods who look like a bunch of bored customers in a post office, all in the name of truth, justice, and the pre-Meiji way. It's violent, moody, campy and ridiculous like Katsu's trademark "duck song"...
And I bloody like it :)
In this 17th installment of the series, Zatoichi squires an artistically-talented young boy to a far-off village to search for his father after the boy's mother dies. Along the way they meet a Kabuki acting troupe, a mysterious samurai, and a crime syndicate. The plot is unique in the canon in that the normally gruff hero is portrayed clucking over his impish charge like a bemused mother hen. His reluctant ministrations don't go unrewarded however: in a heartwarming scene, when the boy is prompted to produce an image of his mother, he sketches a caricature of Zatoichi.
Les Destinees Sentimentales (2000)
I saw this movie while vacationing with Leese in Monte Carlo. Betcha didn't think I'd sit around watching three hours of muted romanticism for the better part of the evening rather than take another shot at the craps table.
I've been a fan of director Olivier Assayas after his breathtaking film adaptation of the satirical play Irma Vep. Granted, Les Destinees' length is a bit hard on the ass but it has its moments. Featuring great shots of the picturesque French countryside, it follows the exploits of local aristocratic scion Jean Barnery. The sedate Pauline, the niece of the region's brandy baron and newly arrived from a tour of the continent, falls in love slowly with Jean through their idyllic rendezvous under the flowering fruit trees in a spring orchard. One world war, an economic depression and 30 years later into their marriage she catches him tossing their old love letters into a blazing grate. Sensing her silent inquiry, he quirks a patrician eyebrow."Do you mind?" Pauline, her face carefully neutral, shrugs and replies,"No. We're not the same people anymore." This state of exhausted affection persists until a warehouse accident aggravates a war injury; the bed-ridden Jean, his facade crumbling all around him, gets caught up in an unguarded few seconds of emotion as he laments, "Poor old Pommerel, if only he knew - he who was always half ruined. All the same, in life there are some pleasant things. It takes patience to see them. You have to look for them. What today's world is losing..is love. There's nothing else in life. But once you're sure, your voice is almost gone." My translation is a bit rough, but in its essence, that line broke my heart.
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Every story, tale or memoir - all are tales of human failing
But now and then he'll say something wonderful...
Just One Sign is EverythingHere's a vid of the song from a movie. It's sung after the firewalk /nikah of Emperor Jalaluddin Akbar to Princess Mariam-uz-Zamani / Jodha of Amer.
This instrumental version sounds divine as well:
The river Seine, nightfall
Alexander Solzhenitsyn, after he was released from the Gulag, 1953
Positano, Italy
