From Merriam Webster: appreciative of, responsive to, or zealous about the beautiful; also : responsive to or appreciative of what is pleasurable to the senses....from a nocturnal point of view, of course.
Well, it has been several weeks, months actually, and I am still dealing with my carpal tunnel. So, no long blog post tonight. . . . . HOWEVER . . . . I will leave these photos for you to enjoy while my hand heals (if ever!)
Andre Breton is considered to be the father of the Surrealist Movement in literature. Although I have only read the slim yet very dreamlike novel, Nadja, I would be remiss if I did not add my own two cents towards Monsieur Breton and "let" him know just how much of a Surrealist he really was.
Nadja is a tale of the author in Paris and his obsession with a young woman named Nadja that he meets on a street one day. She comes to him as if in a dream and from there, proves to be more than just flesh and blood. She is the epitome of a dream laced with insanity and Monsieur Breton only wants more.
I will admit that when I began reading the book yesterday, I was not sure as to what I would expect. After all, I purchased the book on a whim while studying the Surrealist Movement for fun. Every time I read a different notation, paper, or citation, Monsieur's Breton's name would appear. I finally gave in.
Reading Nadja felt like waking up from reality and entering the dreamworld I occupy most of the time. The dreamworld is filled with people and places that seem, at first, to lack description and yet when we turn our heads just a bit, we can see them for what they truly are. The colours are either too bright or too muted and everything we feel is intensified. Once I stepped into Nadja, I felt that every time she spoke, she changed into something different and when I read about her eventual turnout, I felt it was fitting in a good way (you'll have to read the book to find out!)
I loved, loved, loved Nadja and only ask that others read it.
I am 39 years old, which means that, YES!, I am a true Gen Xer. Having said that, I would like to share some of the music I used to (and still!) listen to when I attended American University (1992-1996) in Washington, DC.
Peter Murphy - Cuts You Up
The Pursuit of Happiness - Cigarette Dangles
Harry Connick Jr. - SHE
Machines of Loving Grace - Butterfly Wings
Depeche Mode - Walking in my Shoes
Nirvana - Lithium
And so on and so on.
I listened to a variety of music that opened my eyes to a far larger world than I had encountered while in high school (all girls Catholic) and I was grateful for the exposure. Thankfully, my musical tastes are still quite eclectic and I'm still learning about new groups and genres.
Before I end this entry, I do want to post this last song. Thanks to a dear friend, I was introduced to the world of Kate Bush several years ago. This song, King of the Mountain, is by far my ALL TIME FAVOURITE song!
Okay, now that I have that out of the way . . . I just finished watching the film Stoker starring Nicole Kidman, Matthew Goode, and Mia Wasikowska. If you love intelligent psychological thrillers, this film is for you!
On the 18th birthday of India Stoker (Wasikowska), she learns that her father is dead. While mother Evelyn (Kidman) and daughter grieve in their own way, family comes to the rescue in the form of very attractive yet somewhat disturbing Uncle Charlie (Goode), a world traveler with nothing but "love" for his family. Our eyes are now betrayed as what we think we see is nowhere near the truth and is replaced with something far more sinister than ever imagined.
If you don't believe me, why not watch the trailer?
Giving this delightfully creepy film two Goth thumbs up!
I have prepared a pot of jasmine tea and am about to continue reading the book Balthazar by Lawrence Durrell (1912-1990). This is the second book in the Alexandria Quartet and I am devouring it like I did with the first novel, Justine. While reading pages of it earlier today, I came across a name that I did not recognize; me, being the novice scholar, decided to find out just who and why this name was mentioned in the novel. The name was Constantine P. Cavafy (1863-1933) and he was a Greek poet and journalist who lived in Alexandria. From what I have read of his work thus far, he spoke with an ancient voice that still rings clear today.
Here is one of his poems entitled At the Cafe Door:
Something they said beside me made me look toward the cafe door, and I saw that lovely body which seemed as though Eros in his mastery had fashioned it, joyfully shaping its well formed limbs molding its tall build, shaping its face tenderly, and leaving, with a touch of the fingers, a particular nuance on the brow, the eyes, the lips.
In being an art junkie, I love discovering artists and the worlds they created. Thanks to the Brooks Museum of Art, I am now a lover of Carroll Cloar's(1913-1993) works! The 80+ paintings on display represent a man that wanted to show the world his version of the American South. While some of the paintings are bright in colour and emotion, others are muted yet they deliver feelings of history, wonder, memories, and realistic dreaming. Several of the paintings show a darker side to the South's history, yet there is light even among that darkness, bold enough to capture the interest of even the most cynical of viewers ('Halloween', for example). The history of the American South is filled with grand tales, heroic feats, dark victories and simple people with very un-simple lives. Cloar's works captured that and more. Although Cloar was born in Earle, AR, he spent most of his life in Memphis and several of the paintings at the Brooks display Memphis history, whether real or imagined. The exhibit at the Brooks will be on display until September 15th.
There are other galleries/museums throughout Memphis that are currently showing other pieces of Carroll Cloar. Do yourself a favour and visit them all!
No one could tell David that he was a liar; they refused to put up with such a headache. Every time he opened his mouth, everyone around him rolled their eyes. He had not always been such a character, yet for some reason he found it necessary to develop such a habit. He lived alone and preferred it that way; no one who trusted a liar would believe his living situation. He was afraid of Life, afraid that his lack of involvement would lead to such a revelation that he was fearful of every day. To lie meant freedom from rules that he imagined were there and ironically, everyone knew it. That was the beginning of a new form of Greek Tragedy.
I just purchased one of my favourite Woody Allen films - Hannah and Her Sisters. This delightful film stars Max Von Sydow, Barbara Hershey, Dianne Wiest, and many others. Even though I have seen this film a number of times, it still moves me greatly and I always find something new with every viewing. One such new thing was during the scene in which Michael Caine just happens to run into Barbara Hershey and soon the two go to Pageant Books and Print Shop. It is there that Caine purchases a book of e. e. cummings poetry for Hershey and he tells her to read the poem on page 112 - that poem reminded him of her. So, being the poem lover that I am, I had to look it up and read it for my self.