The Fall

It was bound to happen. I've always known--klutz that I am--that sooner or later I'd take a spill on one of the steep trails I love to hike. Today was the day. I took a notion to climb a rock ledge, even though it was raining and the rock was slippery. Why? Because it was there. And because I'm an idiot. Of course I lost my footing and went bouncing down the side of the rock. It seriously knocked the wind out of me, but there were no major injuries and I hobbled down off the ridge without too much trouble. Both legs are banged up and my left wrist is not looking forward to violin practice, but I think I'll recover. Shorts season doesn't seem so appealing now, but then again, they've never been my best fashion friend. One of my legs was already permanently marred from the time I was climbing around our unlit attic in the middle of the night, looking for a roof leak, and stepped through the ceiling. Honestly, I don't why they let me wander through life unsupervised.

I suppose it's possible I psyched myself into hitting the ground today, since that's where my attention has been lately. My resolution for this summer's walks is to pay more attention to the wide world of crawly things. Most insects aren't out yet, but we've had a lot of rain and there are worms everywhere. I've seen some enormous ones this week. None of them were getting friendly like the pair below, but I just thought I'd share the pic with you, seeing as how one of this blog's official interests is "love in all its guises," and I already gave a whole post to the snails. I wouldn't want to be accused of discrimination.


















The Fall of the Damned, Peter Paul Rubens, c. 1620. Image from Web Gallery of Art.

Mating earthworms photo from Wikipedia.

This'll banish your Monday blues

A little inspiration from Sister Rosetta Tharpe and friends. Isn't she great? Read about her here

A different nymph

Sleeping Nymph and Shepherd, Jan Gerritsz van Bronchorst, 1645-1650.


Image from Web Gallery of Art

Beyond Endless War

"Even when pressed by the demands of inner truth, men do not easily assume the task of opposing their government's policy, especially in time of war. Nor does the human spirit move without great difficulty against all the apathy of conformist thought within one's own bosom and in the surrounding world. Moreover when the issues at hand seem as perplexed as they often do in the case of this dreadful conflict we are always on the verge of being mesmerized by uncertainty; but we must move on."
From Martin Luther King's speech Beyond Vietnam, delivered in New York City on April 4, 1967

King was assassinated one year to the day after making that speech, which means the 40th anniversary of his death will be marked in the media next week with the usual bland genuflection. You probably won't hear a lot of references to his antiwar stance, though the situation in Iraq may inspire a few. You definitely won't hear anything about his radical connection between racism, war and poverty, which is beautifully outlined in the speech, and in the agenda of the Poor People's Campaign. I encourage you to click here** to read all of Beyond Vietnam. As you read, replace "Vietnam" with "Iraq," "communism" with "terrorism" and "Marxism" with "radical Islam"--I find it works eerily well. The speech is not short, but it's worth the time it takes to read, and it'll give you some food for thought when the platitudes are being mouthed next Friday.

And since I'm in political mode, I'll also recommend that you go here to see John Pilger's The War on Democracy, a film about our long history of murderous intervention in Latin America. This movie has seen theatrical release in Britain and Australia, but is only available on DVD here. Heaven forbid people should be reminded that Bush's war in Iraq is really just business as usual.


**There is another text of the speech here that includes an mp3 file, but be warned, the site has annoying pop-ups. Also, go here for an interview on Democracy Now! with Dr. Vincent Harding, who wrote the speech.

One Sentence Perfume Review: Lotus, Ava Luxe

A luminous nymph, sweet and soft as cream, nestled in bitter jade, with a drop of the sun in her heart.


Notes per Ava Luxe: Greens, white lotus , white gardenia, tuberose, plumeria, Egyptian musk.


Photo from Wikimedia Commons.

Poetry, Lilies, Owls

Bill Brown, who appeared on the blog last spring, has a new collection of poems, Late Winter, out from Iris Press. I love Bill's work, and some of these poems are just fantastic. You can read my review of the book at the Scene's website, and here's a bit of one poem on a topic dear to my heart:

Lilies

I have always been late for lilies
that pretend to bloom for a week,
and when my attention wanes,

I find them spoiled by fullness.
It's not that I envy bumblebees
that catch unfurling blossoms

and smother their legs in orange.
I am ripe for perfection: alabaster
smooth and unstained; star gazers,

the rival of orchids; reds deep
and soft as pinot noir. This
morning a gentle rain whispers

to my garden where lilies wait. ...


By Bill Brown, from Late Winter, Iris Press, 2008.



In other news ...
















I saw a gorgeous pair of Great Horned owls this morning, flying together through the trees. I often hear them talking to each other, but I've never seen a couple out at play before. Pretty soon there'll be owl chicks to watch--without a doubt the cutest babies in the bird world. Can't wait. Meantime, you can see and hear some GH owls over at the Owl Pages.

Owl photo from Wikipedia.

Erotica

I’m back. Sometimes I just need to take a little break from the blog, especially when I’ve got a lot of writing for hire to do. I get a little sick of wrangling with words, even in the lazy manner of blogging.

One of the review assignments I've been working on is a new smutty novel by the wildly popular Eric Jerome Dickey. I had whined to the books editor that I never got paid to read any porn, so when the Dickey book came along she said, “Here you go.” All I can say is, be careful what you wish for. The book is okay—sort—but not my kind of thing, erotically speaking. There is nothing worse than slogging through 400+ pages of sexual fantasy that doesn’t work any gear you’ve got. “Stupefying” hardly describes it.

It got me thinking about books I do find genuinely erotic—or rather, trying to figure out if there are any. I’ve read my share of simple smut, of course. There was a time in my life when I was fond of Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty books, in all their sadomasochistic silliness. And I’ll admit—I hope this isn’t TMI—that I have always been kinda turned on by the slam-bang novels of Jim Thompson and James M. Cain. I especially like Thompson’s Bad Boy. So much for feminist consciousness.

But true erotic literature, to be worthy of the name, has to do something more than trigger a Pavlovian genital response. It has to stir up some dark, chthonic energy, and at the same time engage your heart, at least a little bit. It should give you a glimpse of the primal source of feeling. It should make you understand how the desire to live coexists with the urge toward death.

Tall order, huh? I pondered quite a while and I could only come up with two novels that do that for me: Wuthering Heights and Graham Greene’s The End of the Affair. Somehow, I feel that I ought to be able to claim something smarter, edgier, more obscure—but no, I have to confess I can’t think of any book that stirs Eros in me more than those two do. I should go hunt them up wherever they’re hiding in this chaotic house, and let them banish Dickey’s soulless drivel.



Liebesszene, Max Liebermann, c.1926.

Still busy reading

I'll be back to blogging soon.



Bookplate from A World History of Art.

I'm feeling the need to run away ...

from book reviews, tragic anniversaries and other burdensome things, so it seems like a good time to blather about perfume. Here are some random thoughts on recent sniffery:

Neil Morris Spectral Violet: I won't even try to give a full review this one, because Mary already captured it so perfectly in hers. (You'll find her whole series of Neil Morris reviews here. Just page down to SV.) However, I do want to say that as someone who has mixed feelings about violet notes, and violet soliflores in particular, I find SV completely lovable. Most violet scents strike me as insipid. I like violet when it comes along with the moxie of something like Jolie Madame; and I like it candied and romantic, as in N'Aimez que Moi. I can't stand it in its plastic, sweetly watery persona--Marc Jacobs Violet is a classic example. SV, as Mary so rightly points out, has a very natural character. It's like sticking your nose down in a pot of violets. It gives you green, earthy, sweet--the whole shebang. And, to quote Mary again, it's a truly unisex floral. I would love to smell this on a guy.

Madini oils: Anybody who's been looking at my "Scent of the Moment" knows I've been going through the whole catalog of Madini oils lately. I don't know why, but a few weeks ago I just started channeling the ghost of some scent-loving hippie, and I can't get enough of smelling like a head shop. Fortunately, Dave is extremely fond of Eau de 70s Stoner, so I get no complaints when I dab on the heavy, sweet, animalic Musk Gazelle, which dries down to the scent I imagine Tabu must once have been. He also really likes the heady floral shriek of Narciso. I've gotten compliments from regular people on Azahar, which is a pure orange blossom scent that lacks both the acrid edge of most fake orange blossom frags, as well as the musk that is usually employed to cover up that problem. I've tried about half the others to be found at Talisman, but those are my faves so far. I'm sure I'll post about some more in the future.

The Fragrance Shop: More oils here, but not the hippie kind. TFS has a vast catalog of imported and domestic oils, including numerous musks, plus their own blends, but they are probably best known for their dupes. I've got to say, I've tried a lot of their dupes over the years, and the only ones I'd really jump up and down about are Je Reviens and Tatiana, both of which smell perfectly like their vintage versions. The Tatiana is especially nice, and may contain a better quality jasmine than the original ever did. There are some real winners among their house blends, especially China Lily, which is a classic musky China Rain with an big helping of lilies on the side; and The Big Easy, an unusual blend of patchouli, LOTV, amber and vetiver that, inexplicably, actually captures the olfactory character of New Orleans. I'd also give an honorable mention to African Queen, especially if all that talk above about violets got you excited. Married with hyacinth and musk, the violet in this one is sweet but not bland.

Enough blather. Back to work and other stuff for me. Hope everybody has a sweet weekend, and Happy Easter to those who celebrate.


Photo from Wikipedia.

Today is the Vernal Equinox

Go sniff a flower. Pet a bunny, or eat one. Whatever works for you.




Flora, Élizabeth-Louise Vigée-Le Brun (1755-1842)

Read about the goddess Flora here.