Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts
Showing posts with label New York. Show all posts

Wednesday, November 18, 2009

Something in Common & The Seagull

I've fond memories of my first wife. If only I could find them? One Sunday while throwing stones at a neighbour's house - they constantly complained about the noise of our gramophone which only played German tunes - I saw her for the first time. That morning I felt like an empty bus going back to the depot but I couldn't find one without a driver. Suddenly pleasure came back into my life; albeit temporarily.

In the half-light - a slender girl with a pale face named, Betty Blocker - looked beautiful with her crossed legs, crossed arms, and crossed eyes. It was only when she stepped into the full light I could see all her sensitivity. She only had two teeth: an upper and a lower at the front, which she brushed with vigour. If only she had used toothpaste. She talked without thinking, and I thought without talking. Did I love her? No. Did she love me ? No. At least we had something in common. Something attracted me to her. It may have been clean undergarments.

I was only eighteen when we decided to run away. For a while we were as thick as pillows. I once give her a black eye and she refused to take it. Then a split lip. She refused that too. How could I express my feelings for her? I became panic-stricken and confused. I began to speak with an American accent and wear lip gloss on my nose. Then it became all surface, a calamity, my stomach ulcer made its debut in Bjornson's Mary Stuart as a lord with one line to speak. The ulcer became inconsolable and used to shut itself in the washing machine and weep. It finally left to join a group of painters and writers in a village in France. It writes occasionally but still forgets to include two 'C's.

My marriage to Beta disintegrated and we began to despise each other. She always appeared drunk at half-past nine each morning - one hour after me - which I found irritating and deplorable. I became tired of sweat and perfume so we give our dog to a neighbour. It now works as a Security Consultant at a large Parisian department store. It has nothing more in the world to hope for.

Sometimes I think of Beta ... the half-light, how her heart never deceived me, our time spent together hugging, kissing, playing with each other, and talking about the angle a bowler hat should be worn. Of course, we were both temperamental ... our failure to communicate struck us both dumb. We once met unexpectedly in a shop window display. We both had toneless voices and frightened each other. As we said goodbye I fell down a hole in the sidewalk. It made us smile and laugh. For a moment we both felt liberated. As I dare say the people watching on the sidelines also did.

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Reflections: While in New York in March 2008 my wife, Sylvia, and I attended a production of The Seagull by Anton Chekhov at the Classic Stage Company. I've always enjoyed this mysterious and mystical play. It shows one can be separated by centuries, continents, and language from an author, playwright, etc., and still find their works compelling. This play still resonates with a contemporary audience and touches upon eternal and important questions about life.

We were lucky to get tickets and be seated in a side front row. The play and cast were outstanding. The actors included Dianne Wiest, Alan Cumming, and Kelli Garner who was especially remarkable as Nina.

Sylvia and I had the good fortune to speak with Dianne, Alan, and Kelli after the performance. I was astounded when Kelli said she had been playing to me during the performance. I felt honoured and felt an irresistible urge to tell everybody within shouting distance and beyond. As Kelli, a gifted young actor, and a strikingly beautiful girl, walked away into the dark, rainy night, my wife touched my arm and brought me back to reality.

Friday, June 05, 2009

A Depressed Evergreen Plant

 
Aimee Kerrigan bringing home the harvest


I'll get straight to it. I've a depressed evergreen plant on my hands. It's not a great surprise that the plant has picked up bad vibes from staring at me from across the room. The plant's healthy foliage has turned a splotched and veined shade of - how best to describe it? - yes, caramel brown, which just happens to be the name of an ex-girlfriend. Everything I look at reminds me of Caramel; especially her photographs. I used to call her CB for short. She called me 'Loser.'

Anyhow, my evergreen plant is starting to get up later each day, demanding coffee and the newspaper. It habitually complains about the cold weather and believes our home is full of seal-hunters' dressed as egg white. It's worse at night. The evergreen plant is scared of the dark and has to sleep in my room. One night it had the audacity to undress and wriggle naked under the sheets of my bed. (Something I'll never forget, that's for sure.) The funny thing is: I purchased the bloody plant to brighten up my life.

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When I was young I detested uncles visiting our family home; sometimes with their irritating wives. Some were fat, bearded, spoke in loud voices, smelt of whiskey and smoked cigars - the men weren't much better. One particular evening the combination of smells was so overbearing I had to hold my breath. I held it too long and passed out. When I came round a red-faced, plump woman said, 'Look at my finger - yes, just as I thought. One of your eyes isn't moving.' I wet myself and once more lost consciousness. From that moment on my life has moved unhindered between explosive joy and boundless terror. My bladder has just struck again. In truth, life is marked by ups and downs and stains in one's underwear.

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Blog Tag, as initiated by Frieda Babbley. The following is not for the faint of heart, mind or wallet.

List 1: Things I've always wanted to do
  1. Master vertical take-off, and landing, without an aircraft;
  2. Rest between Cécile De France, and Audrey Tautou, in a large bed in a Paris hotel, eating grapes and drinking champagne - both ladies laughing, smiling, and conversing with me in French (I can't speak French, but who's counting?);
  3. Stop laughing in court when ordered by the judge;
  4. Dart around and sniff the ankles of passers-by like my dog, Metro;  
  5. To half-read a novel by Amanda McKittrick Ros;
  6. Take my grand-daughter, Aimee, to Central Park, NY, to sit on the sculpture of Alice in Wonderland - something, everyone should do, irrespective of age, or disposition.
List 2: Foods I love
  1. The paintings of Francis Bacon - grilled;
  2. Day lilies - only at night;
  3. Fiddler crab - breaks my heart to eat them especially after they've performed a violin sonata;
  4. My doctor said I should eat more fibre. I'm currently eating the hull of a boat. A guy told me it's made of fiber-glass; tastes a tad salty;
  5. Runner beans when I can catch them;
  6. Plays by Luigi Pirandello. So far I've consumed ten copies of Six Characters in search of an Author. I recommend a second-hand copy with a stir-fry.
List 3: Things I love
  1. Driving my jet-ski through the streets of my town;
  2. Skipping without a rope;
  3. Throwing turnips at my wife, and children, packed with explosives;
  4. Works by Andy Warhol completed before 1927;
  5. Sailing of Norway, and shouting "Here Boy" at dogfish;
  6. Looking at the Earth from the Moon.
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      Reflection: Some people shrug their shoulders when asked a straight question due to the fact they don't like a conversation to end in failure.