Monday 14 May 2012

After thoughts...


In a perfect world, life would be set in the clear, good and evil will show they're true colors, white for purity and black for venom.

But here, Ah…In the real world, there is too much of the grey spots that is in-between, mankind has become a rubber, once white but then when erasing the bad deeds becomes stained with the darkness he encounters.

The irony.

I am far to judge anyone, I am flawed in many ways, too many infact, selfish, cunning, and a spender much to my husband's displeasure. 

But what is it about us? That drives us to the worst , is it all really the workings of the devil? Are we really the angels we presume to be? Aren't we just the lesser demons of the earth?

My ramblings could go on till the morrow..

But it just shifts me, the shock you feel when you think someone is all good, a hero of light, the ultimate saint, when in need they turn into that clear color of in-between, that cloudy grey of impurity, and then you know, you realize…There is no such thing as a saint, let those stories be in they're leather bindings, in those glossy pages that are printed every day.

This. This is the real world,mate.

Demons prowl our corners, angels watch from above, and god sits upon his throne of light watching us eat at each other until he sets us for doomsday…

Indeed, we are doomed. 


Saturday 12 May 2012

Victor Hugo- A Preface

A famed writer once wrote this...

'So long as there shall exist, by virtue of law and custom, decrees of damnation pronounced by society, artificially creating hells amid the civilization of earth, and adding the element of human fate to divine destiny; so long as the three great problems of the century- the degradation of man through pauperism, the corruption of woman through hunger, the crippling of children through lack of light- are unsolved; so long as social asphyxia is possible in any part of the world;-in other words, and with a still wider significance, so long as ignorance and poverty exist on earth, books of the nature of Les Miserables cannot fail to be of use.'

Victor Hugo, although I haven't read his complete works, was always one of my idols, his dark themed stories captured me and sculpted my thinking into what it is now, VH was a visionary, much more than what I can write about here...he was a hero of the written word, he made each paragraph speak like a sword in a holy battle, the man had propose often lacked in modern literature, you could feel it in his books...the way he talked about the world made you feel that he believed, even in a skeptical way that the darkness we live in can become light once again.

He believed in humanity. 

I've watched more than my share of Les Miserables, and even though I had skimmed through the pages of the book as a young adult I couldn't go on with it, I found the book dark, and had too much realism for me -a fanciful girl of 14 to grasp- now as an adult I welcomed his mastermind, the aches of his characters, the beauty of his written words.

Such an epic.


Thursday 10 May 2012

Her. Over cake.



It was a week later of unanswered calls that she began to panic.

Was all this a joke?
Did he realize they're union would be a scandal and had decided to back off quietly?

But that wasn't fair!

She finally had some reigns back to her life, and him added to the picture seemed to make her being whole.

She slumped back into her bamboo chair and stared up at the sky once more, she had been sulking for days, nothing much to alter her being, her hands smelled of ink, her blouse blotched, her hair in airy disarray she had recently opted to prefer.

So this is life.
She would think sometimes.

"Easy come, easy go."She whispered to the morning lights, a bird seemed to echo her sentiment for it had landed for a moment on her balcony railing only to fly off once more.

She had been writing nothing for ages, her new book was nibbling its way to the finish line but there was much to do, he had plagued her mind so much, it seemed every character she would concive mimicked his coloring and actions, she was unfocused.

Unfocused spelled out failure, and she did not want her first attempt to fail so soon, it was like an abortion, living with the pain of pregnancy with the hope of a little one joining the clan soon only for it to be dissolved in a pouring of blood, skewering that dream alive.

She shouldn't think about it anymore, let the days come, she cradled her pen between her thumb and forefinger, and continued on her adventure in paperland, her coffee forgotten.

An hour later, her maid knocked on her door, she stifled her annoyance at the disturbance instead she called for her to come in.

On que, the woman walked in with a polite greeting handing her the the daily mail with a copy of today's paper.
She ignored the cluster of bills on her table, wondering how she would pay this months wages, it seemed she would have to call on her aunt again and have her lend her some money, the woman was a paragon of righteousness, things like "Lend me" did not go well with her, especially from an orphaned relative, she would frown at her and take out her check book always writing her a generous sum that would not only pay her bills but keep her in a comfortable lifestyle, her bank account was never empty because of the woman, she couldn't thank her enough.

She decided she would bake her a date cake and pop in on the dear woman, it would do well for her to move her legs and have a refreshing sit down with someone other than her fictional characters.

She found that baking was an easy relief for her stress, she baked horribly but it always tasted good, her frosting consisted of cream spread across the smooth texture and then sprinkled with a bit of Cocoa, her cousins had always exclaimed that it looked endearingly homemade…and she grasped at that piece of a compliment instead of doubting them and assessing that they were only saying that to make her feel better, but she was in no place for assessment she would grab at that branch of good fellowship and carry on.

They pity me, but who cares?
It was later that day when she had finally finished baking, looking like a cake herself with her cheeks dusty with flour and hair tied up in a crooked bun, she sailed out of the kitchen all smiles at her small accomplishment, telling her loyal maid to wrap it up for her after it had cooled, she quickly took a haste shower, combed her hair, applied no makeup, and wore a mid length dress of ice blue.

She glided to the kitchen, packed up her cake and went out to the garage to start her black mini cooper, her purse already flung under the side seat while the date cake was securely adjusted in the back.

She rang the engine and drove off.

She ignored the honks, and the rowdy teenagers with they're stereo's at full beat, her sights set on the tan painted mansion, with its brick covered columns, see through gates of iron blocked her from the green pastured passage way, she honked lightly for the doorman to click the gates open, she drove over the cement drive through, parking her car under an over grown tree at the edge of the space, she did not want to impose on the rest of her cousins parking space, humbled as she was, she couldn't risk having them get upset, they were her only leverage to society.

She ignored the rile in her belly as she approached the large wooden doors, recalling that the subject of her lodgings would have to come up, if anything her dear aunt was a traditional, she walked steadily by the book, and she; her niece was surprised she did not shun her first for her poor display in marriage affairs. Instead the woman held her close, backed her up completely.

"You smell like him."She had once told her while weeping into her shoulder, reminiscing about her dear father, she had cried buckets all over again that day, and her aunt joined her weeping, it wasn't right for an old woman to cry, the sight of her frail shoulders shaking made her realize all the wrong in the world, it was devastating. 

"Good afternoon Aunti!!" She said in a sing song voice coming to the parlor, her Aunt sitting cross legged looking like an elegant painting of the french art, her summer dress smart of a deep blue.

"Blue is the mood, my darling." She said, eying her ice blue dress in a approval.
"Yes, I so adore the color." She commented coming to sit by her aunt, the cake laid on the coffee table beyond, "I baked a cake for you." She said kissing the older woman's cheeks, "Oh…you witch!"Her aunt had joked, "Your going to make me into a big cow with all these sweets!"

She chuckled devilishly in reply, already ringing for the maid to bring a couple of plates, forks and a knife.

"Well…What's new with you?" Asked her aunt taking a sip of her tea, She shrugged telling of her impending writing projects, her hands still smelled of ink even though she had scrubbed them clean, she was stuck with it, just like she was stuck with her own creative insanity.

"What are you writing about?" Her aunt asked.

"About the war, my main character is girl who is faking being a foreign  soldier to gain safe passage out of her torn country."

"What a sad concept!" Her aunt said scandalized. 

"Too strong?"

"Why can't you write about the war without the women? Really. Everyone would think it would be your new fancy to join the military, it would just make the gossip come again."

"Oh, Auntii…I don't care what people think, I'm writing this for me, its a story, I do not come from a war torn country, well not recently! and I do not seek to be a soldier…I'm a writer, a visionary, last I checked they do not need those in the military." 

"Yes, but you can't say that pretty speech to everyone." 

"Tell you what…When I get it published, I'll post that very line at the very beginning…then nobody would dare gossip, at least not openly."

"Ohh…Hush! Writing is useless, all those writers you like are all dead, and all they're writings are a bore! They only wrote all that nonsense to analyze the world, but I'll tell you this darling, the world is simple, there is nothing but beauty, life and death, ugliness and horror, love and heartbreak, those are its elements…Its just the basic knowledge for any human, no smarty pants could contradict that!"

"Oh Auntii…I concur." She sighed.

The older woman sat back relishing her successful argument, her plate before her now, a slice of cake on it to go with her tea.

"Now baking is a lady's profession! This is delicious…"She said in praise about her cake.

She dodged the barb and simply answered, "I'm so happy you liked it."

"Now there is some gossip adrift…my silly neighbor, You wouldn't believe what she had made her son do."

She took a sip of her tea, her ears half listening, though she was always thankful for her aunt's entraining conversations.

"Can you believe, she had him court three girls simultaneously!! It has the whole neighborhood buzzing, how on earth are the father's alright with this is beyond me, I know all they're mothers, halfwits so intent on marrying off they're daughters they wouldn't care about the talk."

"How sad."She murmured.

"Exactly so, but he is very accomplished I hear…An architect, handsome, I think you and he went to the same school at one point actually, just came back from France after finishing a very important project there."

She was uninterested until her aunt finished the descriptions about the groom, her heart thumped into pieces in her chest, and her throat went dry, she couldn't form a sentience for long moments but then when she managed it, she asked for his name.

And when her Aunt uttered it, she slumped back against the cushions, her eyes glazed with emptiness.

"Goodness, Darling! What's the matter!!" Her aunt exclaimed watching her vast change in mood, taking her wrist in her own hand as if trying to measure her pulse.

"Oh Auntii…I think its time I tell you what really happened in France."She murmured, her shattered heart in her eyes.

And then she talked, unveiling every intimate detail, her gathering with him in Paris, they're private dinner, the way her husband had found out, the real reason for her divorce, and how he had visited her the other day to propose. 

"Oh god."Whispered her aunt.

"I think he was pulling a joke on me all along, I guess its his sort of revenge for all the things I've done to him in the past…I was fool enough to believe he really wanted me." She sobbed.

"Oh darling…"her aunt shook her head and continued rubbing her shoulder.

"I thought it would all end, the emptiness, you should have seen him, the way he asked me to marry him! It was an oscar winning act…I ate up all his words, and I stayed up night after night waiting for his mothers call…it never came."

"She'd never do that, She's a bigger stickler than I; avoids a scandal like the plague, She's very medieval I confess, divorce to her is the end of the world to a woman."

"I did not know."

"Well, needless to say, that boy is long gone, I do hope you come live with me from now on, your so pretty, such easy prey for any of those ruffians out there…I'll arrange a suit for you, keep your house until another worthy fellow comes and you can use it as a family home, your father would have loved that."

"Oh Auntii…I don't think I will ever get married again."

"Hush darling, Your grandmother married three times, children from each of those men and she did not care to start a new romance every time! Your young with no baggage, beautiful and intelligent, you are the package, my dear. Any man would be crazy not to want you."

She just looked at her, hatred and jealousy eating at her heart, she was broken, his boyish smiles still lingered in her head, the way he had said her name, the way he had touched her, his voice and those endearing words he spoke.

Liar.

She shivered then, and her aunt drew her against her with a hug.

She did not go home that day.

************

I do hope you have enjoyed my silly post...

There's more, so stay tuned!! :D

Comments please, I would love to read your thoughts.