No longer riding on the merry-go-round,
I just had to let it go.
“Saved, rescued, fished-up, half-drowned, out of the deep dark river, dry clothes, hair shampooed and set. Nobody would know I had ever been in it . Except, or course, that there always remains something. Yes, there always remains something.”
highlighted during a jfk to phoenix flight.
(good morning, midnight by jean rhys)
postings to resume shortly.
i recently received an email from a woman who found a pair of my earrings featured here several years ago. She mentioned that she spent the last two years looking for where she could find my jewels. It was the most surprising, flattering email i’ve ever received, especially after bella’s arrival when i put the daydream of designing jewelry to rest. Much like the “everybody can make a scarf trend,” jewelry making has become a common craft and accessible hobby; and so many do it extremely well.
So, in a way, the fire smothered; and i was left to my own vices, creating gaudy pieces for myself and occassionally a gift for a friend or two. There’s something rewarding about creating jewelry, perhaps it’s the instant gratification of completing something, or maybe it’s just because one can never have too many ugly necklaces and earrings (hence, the birth of this blog).
She mentioned how she wanted a pair of earrings for her wedding day similar to the ones she had found in the magazine. Other than the big fat wedding ring and dress, the earrings would be the centerpiece. Of course, i agreed to make them for her.
While my own personal pieces and preferences are much more decadent and bold; i toned it down and worked with the parameters she gave me: silver, smokey quartz, similar in design to the ones she coveted, and she did not want the earrings to wear her (i.e. not too gaudy).
So here is what the inspiration well delivered:
(please excuse the bad photog skills; they’re really bedazzling in person)
on a different note, i shared the earrings with losing it who mentioned that they incited thoughts of this:
then she and i got to talking about how this film was the first time we experienced that tingling feeling in the loin purse. we both agreed seeing david bowie with long hair and man tights was the defining moment when we realized we were attracted to the opposite sex.
but then losing it upped the ante and won the pot when she confessed she still has a labyrinth poster framed on her bedroom wall.
(photos by man ray)
if there was one book that is most often pulled from the bookshelf it is plato’s symposium. Recently, royal quiet deluxe‘s ongoing pursuit of the soul mate theory inspired a skim through this masterpiece. There are so many great passages, Diotima of Mantineia’s explanation of love, for example, is my new favorite:
No god is a philosopher. or seeker after wisdom, for he is wise already; nor does any man who is wise seek after wisdom. Neither do the ignorant seek after Wisdom. For herein is the evil of ignorance, that he who is neither good nor wise is nevertheless satisfied with himself: he has no desire for that of which he feels no want.” “But-who then, Diotima,” I said, “are the lovers of wisdom, if they are neither the wise nor the foolish?” “A child may answer that question,” she replied; “they are those who are in a mean between the two; Love is one of them. For wisdom is a most beautiful thing, and Love is of the beautiful; and therefore Love is also a philosopher: or lover of wisdom, and being a lover of wisdom is in a mean between the wise and the ignorant. And of this too his birth is the cause; for his father is wealthy and wise, and his mother poor and foolish. Such, my dear Socrates, is the nature of the spirit Love. The error in your conception of him was very natural, and as I imagine from what you say, has arisen out of a confusion of love and the beloved, which made you think that love was all beautiful. For the beloved is the truly beautiful, and delicate, and perfect, and blessed; but the principle of love is of another nature, and is such as I have described.”
But back on point, RQD’s posts reminded me of Aristophanes description of love–that the search for “a soul mate” is a longing to be reunited with our other half. According to Aristophanes, we once roamed as man, woman and the union of the two. The “androgynous” ones ironically were the most powerful and attempted to overthrow the gods:
Now the sexes were three, and such as I have described them; because the sun, moon, and earth are three;-and the man was originally the child of the sun, the woman of the earth, and the man-woman of the moon, which is made up of sun and earth, and they were all round and moved round and round: like their parents. Terrible was their might and strength, and the thoughts of their hearts were great, and they made an attack upon the gods; of them is told the tale of Otys and Ephialtes who, as Homer says, dared to scale heaven, and would have laid hands upon the gods.
Zeus cut them in half. His reasoning:
“Methinks I have a plan which will humble their pride and improve their manners; men shall continue to exist, but I will cut them in two and then they will be diminished in strength and increased in numbers; this will have the advantage of making them more profitable to us. They shall walk upright on two legs, and if they continue insolent and will not be quiet, I will split them again and they shall hop about on a single leg.” He spoke and cut men in two, like a sorb-apple which is halved for pickling, or as you might divide an egg with a hair…”
and so begins the search for our other half:
After the division the two parts of man, each desiring his other half, came together, and throwing their arms about one another, entwined in mutual embraces, longing to grow into one…
And when one of them meets with his other half, the actual half of himself, whether he be a lover of youth or a lover of another sort, the pair are lost in an amazement of love and friendship and intimacy, and would not be out of the other’s sight, as I may say, even for a moment: these are the people who pass their whole lives together; yet they could not explain what they desire of one another. For the intense yearning which each of them has towards the other does not appear to be the desire of lover’s intercourse, but of something else which the soul of either evidently desires and cannot tell, and of which she has only a dark and doubtful presentiment.
(picasso, la celestina, 1904)
she showed up on our doorstep, one eye hazed with blindness and two baby kittens in tow. a sweet, gentle feline; but, she’s remained nameless except for the “yama cat”‘ that serves as a temporary moniker.
today, she is celestina,
the cat who sat on my black velvet cape.
miguel, the poet,
delivers unexpected gifts and responds to my writer’s block without even knowing.
NATSUO KIRINO, born in 1951 in Kanazawa (Ishikawa Prefecture) was an active and spirited child brought up between her two brothers, one being six years older and the other five years younger than her. Kirino’s father, being an architect, took the family to many cities, and Kirino spent her youth in Sendai, Sapporo, and finally settled in Tokyo when she was fourteen, which is where she has been residing since. Kirino showed glimpses of her talent as a writer in her early stages– she was a child with great deal of curiosity, and also a child who could completely immerse herself in her own unique world of imagination.
After completing her law degree, Kirino worked in various fields before becoming a fictional writer; including scheduling and organizing films to be shown in a movie theater, and working as an editor and writer for a magazine publication. She got married to her present husband when she turned twenty-four, and began writing professionally, after giving birth to her daughter, at age thirty. However, it was not until Kirino was forty-one that she made her major debut. Since then, she has written thirteen full-length novels and three volumes of collective short stories, which are highly acclaimed for her intriguingly intelligent plot development and character portrayal, and her unique perspective of Japanese society after the collapse of the economic bubble.
the sweetest evidence is in bold.
burfitt 2006 (a swede based in paris)
virgina oldoini: napoleon bonaparte’s mistress
“Virginia spent her declining years in an apartment on the Place Vendôme, where she had the rooms decorated in funereal black, the blinds kept drawn, and mirrors banished — apparently so she would not have to confront her advancing age and loss of beauty. She would only leave the apartment at night.”
oscar wilde: do you mind if i smoke?
sarah bernhardt: i don’t care if you burn.