Saturday, February 7, 2009

Revolutionary Road

Kate Winslet has been robbed of a completely deserved Academy Award nomination for best actress for this motion picture.

Very, very tough emotionally. Maybe too close to home for me right now. A couple get sucked into suburbia, child-bearing and rearing and a mindless corporate career, when what they had promised one another was that they would feel life deeply -- and move to Paris. Kate Winslet's character scarily reminded me of myself in some ways. Haunting score by Thomas Newman. Subtle, understated palette.

Very, very sad. Highly recommended, if you can go there.

Friday, February 6, 2009

I took the little girls

... my "instant" granddaughters, to see Hotel for Dogs this afternoon. A Boston Terrier who reminded me a great deal of my beloved Frida was featured. Cute picture for kids, and the girls enjoyed it.

Maybe I'll go see Revolutionary Road this weekend. I have tried to avoid reading reviews or hearing any spoilers, but just the sketchy plot outline I know about seems intriguing. But maybe it will hit a little too close to home right now?

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Italy: signs, windows, doors, corners, edges of things know, the things I like to photograph.

I'm trying to get the hundreds of images I captured during the month organized. Check my flickr portfolio (see badge link in blog side panel) if you like -- just put up new sets of defaced statues, frozen fountains, shrines, architecture, landscapes in Italy...

A wonderful blog post I found today.

Wonderful writing, too, by Nana Whodun, in her blog

And I dig that beautiful painting of Marie Laveau by Ulrick Jean-Pierre!

Holy Ghost, part I

Southern slavery in the USA, was one of the more repressive places for spirit possession due to restrictive Protestant influences. Even on Sunday "under the tent" or at the meeting place, full possession was not acceptable as there were always “eyes on you.”

The Holy Ghost of the Southern Baptist Church was a spiritual current summoned by song and rhythmic handclapping. This energy current once contacted was brought “down” from it’s higher vibrational rate or field by Elder Sisters or "Church Ladies," known for their stylish and in some cases eccentric hats, that were a mark of their official position.

They sat across the center rows of the Church. The energy once it appeared was pulled down by the female mediums in the congregation at their crown chakras. The signal of their possession was that their hat was progressively dislodged and eventually displaced by the entry of the “Holy Ghost.”
(to be continued)

Note to da Folk: The media did not understand the symbolic function of head wear in the Baptist Church in terms of stature and station for the female members of the congregation. This is why they riduculed the size or "grandness" of the hat Aretha wore at the 2009 Inaugral when she did a “spiritual invocation.”

I've seen Elizabeth, Queen of England wear some butt "ugly hats" and the media there or here didn't whisper a peep. What was said about Aretha's hat was simply dis-respect of the sister and the Hoodoo tradition. A full frontal assault.

“Re-re” always wore “original” head gear and dressed according to how she felt NOT fashion. She is one of a kind, the undisputed HEAD of the Neo-Hoodoo choir, a songstress. Can’t nobody take her crown as long as she draws breath, regardless of what "lady in waiting" Beyonce say out of her mouth- Tina Turner wasn’t crowned Queen of Soul (that's one reason why she don’t wear dem “hats”…) Tina is a Grand Dame, the Hoodoo "Queen" of Rock n’ Roll . Tina has endurance, longevity and tremendous “life force energy” that she expresses via body gesture as dance.
©2009. Orb of Djenra. All rights reserved in all media.

I had to take the day off yesterday.

I'm not exactly grieving. That would be too strong a way to characterize what I'm feeling and going through emotionally these days. I'm sad, yes. But I know the ending of this brief romance is necessary, that the relationship was never going to work out in the long run for a million reasons and that prolonging the inevitable ending wouldn't have been healthy. But my life seems profoundly changed now -- and it is. It's so strange not to count to seven on my fingers to figure out what time it is in Italy, and then to Skype him every day. It's sad not to make or receive wake-up calls. I no longer post to our private blog or check it for a post from my beloved. It's a profound shift to no longer ponder living with him someday in the future. Endings, I suppose, are never easy.

I had a sore throat and ear ache and so was able to take a sick day yesterday. I really had never completely unpacked since my return from Italy January 7 and needed to deal with that. Something in me just didn't want to see the clothes I lately wore when I was with him again or wash them or fold them or put them away. Something in me wanted to avoid storing the bags that have been so frequently used on these trips to see him since June that I normally just leave them out, ready to be packed up for the next trip. I needed to go through the house and remove all the photos of him or of us as a couple from the fridge and from the edges of mirrors and picture frames where I'd stuck them. I needed to take the big picture of us in Paris down from the ledge where it's sat, keeping me company at the kitchen sink as I washed dishes these seven months.

It's all done now, the unpacking and the packing away and the storing of things too poignant to contemplate on a daily basis. Something in me feels a sense of relief; it's always good to get organized. But it is all sad, this sense of finality, of something beautiful and wild and unexpected ending forever.

It's over. I'm no longer madly in love with anyone. I'm alone again. I'm deeply grateful for the love affair he and I shared, for the tenderness, for the intimacy. I will work hard to preserve the rich, sweet memories. But I will likely always worry about him and his well-being in the long run -- I fear his workaholic tendencies, his depression, his guilt, his dark moods will eventually destroy him. And I won't be there to save him.

As if I ever could have.