Alice....

When I was very young I remember hanging out with my grandparents at their 1920’s American bungalow style home. The dinning room was Tiffany blue with dove white trim. Wall to wall carpet in a complimentary neutral and the long wall of the room was complete floor to ceiling glass. The glass was single pane; you could see all of the little imperfections and squiggles from its hand made quality. Beyond this gallery of windows was a beautifully trimmed lawn, privet hedges, azaleas and camellias in full bloom, and pebble paths lined with mixed plantings of impatients. The crowning glory was the ameba shaped swimming pool that hosted my unique grandmother swimming laps in a swim cap, navy swimsuit, and red lipstick.
Many afternoons were spent lying around next to her on the sofa while she ready books to me in the living room. I remember the way the tapestry fabric twisted and turned and how the leaves of each abstract flower changed color. The chocolate, plush pile, wool carpet always felt so luxurious under my feet, and there always seemed to be a glass of sweet tea available whenever she needed to take a moment to turn the page. Her hands were porcelain white with red nails featuring a sparkling silver ring with an electrifying blue topaz being worshiped my little diamonds encircling it. Her eyes were like the ring, electrifying blue topaz, lined, and very sharp, but softened by what she saw in me. Her personal style was that of a Mrs. O. Lots of navy skirt suits, red and coral lipstick, pill box hats and little clutches. To top it off she drove a Tiffany blue Cadillac, which always remained in the garage, excepts for when she drove to the super market or church.
What I remember about her was how she made me feel verses true visual memories. I remember snippets, like an old black and white reel that has weathered in its can. It has spots. Holes….I felt warm, and I can still hear her heart beating while I lied next to her. Bum, bum……bum, bum….bum.bum. I think that my whole life I have chased that particular feeling of warmth. It’s powerful, connected, electric, yet calm, silent, and pressing. It’s a quiet high of unadulterated love.

Thursdays in the height of summer.....

Thursdays in the height of summer, are possibly the most perfect time of the year for middle class America. I, on the other hand, find humidity and heat absolutely repressive; as repressive as Jimmy Carter on the television, or even more repressive than Eleanor Roosevelt’s personal style. I would rather have a beautiful spring day Jackie O style is Hyannis port, or an enchanting fall New York evening Viviene Westwood style. I find that as we progress as a more casual society we become less and less aware of our appearance. This is absolutely baffling to me?!?!?! This generation has been bombarded by society and the media. Selling to each new generation a new concept of beauty and fashion, style and aesthetic. How have they missed the boat? Is it because we have just seen our predecessors fall to the personal style wayside? Haven’t we all heard our fathers say? “I am getting old it doesn’t matter what I look like!” or “I have had 5 children its OK that I weigh double my healthy weight.” Does each younger generation just give up a little more than the last?
Funny enough our predecessors will quickly say that everything “wrong” in this country is because “kids” these days don’t do this, that, or the latter. Well if my grandparents were the greatest generation, what didn’t they do to make us the worst? I say that they laid the ground work for divorce, abortion, and corrupt politics. YET ,my friends, when liberal minded youth try to make this America a better place we are told that we are nieve, ignorant, or worst yet un holy. WOW ……well if we still lived in a world of “greatest generation” thinking. We would still have slaves or at least maids. We would still have spouse abuse,….oh wait we do. We would still have wars over seas….ok. So what is my point? Well if you shop at Wal-Mart I assume you don’t have personal style and that you are cheap. If being cheap is about being less aware of our personal appearance….if we are less aware of our own sense of self what will ever make us AWARE of the world around us?

I am Love ....

I am love....OK so I have to rant for a minute....last night Jason and I went to see I am love featuring Tilda Swinton...who I am convinced is a post-op tranny. I am just saying. She is fantastic. Riveting, intense, perfection. I am truly inspired to live a life of lux and fantasy. In this life story everyone is fully dressed in decadence. The family is waited on hand and foot, including removal of rings and jewelry, unzipping of dresses, and romantic overlaying of nature on top of the the over sensual romance of food and sex. Perfection! The family is as closely woven as the fabric that their company manufactures. Each of them are closely stitched to the other making the luxurious weave of animosity, hurt, and resentment even more mysterious. The imagery of rain, and nature, grass and food....OH the food is art with is the aphrodisiac that is the conduit for the connection of the matriarch of the family to the chef de jour. This is a must see....

Tuesday with music and coffee

Well I am sitting in Starbucks as most decaffeinated Americans are not doing right now. I find it so interesting to people watch as I serf the net. The gentleman next to me just injected himself with insulin, there is a schizophrenic that just asked a newly married couple if he could have their seat and then there are the comer's and goers of the average coffee house. My other half is at work and we live the simple life....apartment, both work full time, insurance, cars, and all of the other things that are apart of the day to day. Recently everyone in my life is having children. Funny enough we aren't one of them. As I inch into my thirties, I am starting to get pains of paternal guilt...if that is what you can call it. Apparently all Americans were not created equal...I am watching how our society takes care of the mentally unstable, the uninsured, and the decaffeinated. A cup of Joe can't fix these concern I have had of late about how difficult it will be for myself and my partner to adopt. There are thousands of children who don't have parents much less good parents. The other day I was at work. A mother of two was shopping for herself. She had one in diapers and the other was under 10yrs old. The mother preceded to shop while her toddler runs out of the store ...Really? She continues to peruse the merchandise under the glass case. She glances over at her other daughter and says " where is she going?" Really? I was furious at this mother who again just kept on shopping with no care to her child's safety at all. I was outraged! Who gave these Americans the right to have children.....? Just because you can do the deed and produce doesn't mean that you deserve to be a parent. Sometimes I think its the parents that should have been aborted. Well until then I will continue to drink my venti unsweetened iced coffee with soy, live my simple life, and wait for equality.