Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Just some idle curiosities.
Isn't it funny how, sometimes, we turn away from the things we want the most? Oh, I know. How original. But really, it's been occupying far too much of my time lately, thinking about how and what makes us abandon the daydreams of another time. For most of us, it's simply that we realize we don't desire such things or events or people anymore. To do so would go against whomever we've become at that point. But what about those times when we decide not to pursue that job we've always wanted or maybe shut out a husband just because he was fucking the butcher's daughter? I mean what makes us apply for another job or pull that knife from our purse and try to carve up some slabs of fresh meat du jour? The manager at Minsky's, my fourth husband and I would really like to know.
One story.
I adore color. The shade of skin under your nails, the color of lust in a lover's cheek. My favorite hue came from setting Celeste Chienne's cape on fire after the class Halloween parade. It resembled the inside of a pumpkin and then suddenly both the joy of an emerald and the fury of a sapphire...all inside a pumpkin. I call that one Celeste's Cape, which sounds like Celestescape when you say it fast, which I don't.
When I got older, there were more and more colors... the stormy gray of arguments in the eyes, the heartshattering death-white, the vivid, sparkling rosiness of sex, that hungry brown. Once though, color left me. It was like swimming with no water, and continuing to swim and swim... Those times are gone and I don't like going back.
Mother and Father were always good to me, even in my "peculiar ways" as they would call them. Elle a des façons particulières! they would say. Pants were a no-no. But he wants them and I let him have them when he asks. Mother and Father never understood me when I said the human body can't hold just one. Like the world can't hold just one color. There's so many. There may be more in me. Faescape is another lovely color. And that is pronounced as one word. But that's another story.
When I got older, there were more and more colors... the stormy gray of arguments in the eyes, the heartshattering death-white, the vivid, sparkling rosiness of sex, that hungry brown. Once though, color left me. It was like swimming with no water, and continuing to swim and swim... Those times are gone and I don't like going back.
Mother and Father were always good to me, even in my "peculiar ways" as they would call them. Elle a des façons particulières! they would say. Pants were a no-no. But he wants them and I let him have them when he asks. Mother and Father never understood me when I said the human body can't hold just one. Like the world can't hold just one color. There's so many. There may be more in me. Faescape is another lovely color. And that is pronounced as one word. But that's another story.
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