Maybelle

Maybelle looked into her vanity mirror as feelings of finitude creeped over her being in the form of a skeleton representing death. The air was cold morning English January. The icy tile floor pricked her feet sending shivers up her legs. The chill of brisk wind infiltrated her bones. She was inclined to take a warm bath to wash off this horrible feeling of dread but she could not even move, her body was locked with fear. The lanky skeleton put its hand on her shoulder and whispered into her ear, 'I am always with you'. Maybelle shrugged with shivering terror and looked around her but no skeleton was there. She exhaled from her throat and held her neck to warm it, her body was inhumanly lacking proper blood circulation, she looked ghostly. After gathering a little composure several minutes later Maybelle finally disrobed and prepared a warm lavender bath. She soaked herself letting the calming aroma of the scented oil ease her distraught mind.

Letters To Penelope : Stab

Dearest Penelope,
I write this to you from a hospital bed. It's nothing serious I was just stabbed by a robber today. I don't even think it's worth staying in a hospital for but Georges, my guide who I was with when the incident happened and who was one of the curators I met with at the Musee d'Orsay, highly recommended that I 'squeeze the sweet nectar' as much as possible on this one. Plus he said he could get me a night without having to worry about paying for it, he stays over night all the time. He insisted. I think he mainly wanted my company more than he cared about my health. His wife watches the floor tonight, she's not going to report my presence...hope they don't get busy all of a sudden. Georges and I watched Run Lola Run, he kept talking about how much he likes the red haired character. He said, 'now's there's a woman I would want to marry', he said it in a dazed stare as I looked at him from my periphery asking a question and making a statement at the same time, 'you are married?' I dropped it and continued watching the movie. The thing about the robbery was that the guy didn't even ask me for anything, he just stabbed me in the back and ran away. I don't even think that constitutes a robbery, he didn't take anything, that's just what the police kept calling it. I was thinking deeply about the Rodin's I had just seen, remembering the weight of the material and sensing the decisions of the sculptor, then the knife piercing my skin kind of felt like a finger poking clay, I barely noticed it. Georges was the one freaking out, rushing me into a taxi to the hospital. Good thing cause I was bleeding quite a lot however. Nothing to worry about though. I'm all taken care of here. Marie, Georges wife gave us lemon pie for a late night munchie. She reminds me of Chloe, Emily's friend from the play 'Red Door Painted Black'. She has that same mouth mannerism where her lips are always a little crooked or pursed.
Well before all that happened I did get to see a little of the Musee d'Orsay. The Corot I was consulting was definitely in bad shape. Past owner's certainly did not keep it in dry environment or just didn't care, it's not beyond repair however, just will take a good year to get it proper for exhibition purposes. The Whistler's were hit and miss for me. I mean they were authentic which is why they brought me in there to clarify but his work rarely gets me off the ground. They had some Odilon Redon charcoal drawings that were absolutely astonishing. I was reminded of the time we saw a show of his at MoMA, how we stayed there all day going back and forth, drawing from his drawings, writing stories from what they inspired in us.
I'm planning on getting away from Georges tommorrow as soon as I can. I want to roam the city a little alone while I still have some time here. I want to come back here with you. I've seen some boutique shops you'd love. Tease.

Yours,
Odysseus

Letter to Penelope : Louvre, Paris

Dearest Penelope,

How I wish you were here to witness these treasures with me! Today I saw a Sarcophagus of a Wedded Couple in terracotta from the late 6th century B.C.. They were languidly lounging on a bed with drunken 'Archaic smile'. Their presence seemed imbued in the carvings, but it wasn't haunting, rather jubilent, joyful. Like an eternally happy pair. Cimabue. Wow! What individual style. His stylization of the figure and drapery are to me something so removed from reality, so indifferently unnatural that they exist only for themselves, and this allows them their own kind of naturalism. A created self-referential reality. This is a goal to attain, to create a reality to exist in vicariously through my artwork. Another thing I admired about the handling of his work were the engrained gold roulette markings. I liked the smooth handling of tempera combined with this recession into the wood. I felt it made for a nice reductive/negative power that is preposterously opposite today's aesthetic taste which seems to me so additive and big instead of quite passivity like the Cimabue's had. Maybe I just don't think anything good can be made today. I'm a resentful bastard like that, what you call my 'uncompromising idealism'. They showed my Giotto's St. Francis Receiving the Stigmata from late thirteenth century. Giotto had such a way of characterizing his figures and making them seem more human than in reality. There is a graphic softness to his imagery that betrays any modern convention. He was a superb compositional director, very smart and simple with his arrangements. A big influence on me in this way. They had a painting by an anonymous painter depicting our favorite theme, The Fall of the Rebel Angels. I was secretly devising methods in my mind of how to get that thing off the wall and into our home. It was all gold with grotesque monstorous black silhouettes of descending demons. It would have looked so inviting in our foyer over the red velvet ottoman.

Guess who I met last night? (I'll give you three seconds and a kiss on the jaw) Our friend Stefano Brahmano. He was playing at some place called Theatre Mannequin with a viola and cello player, he played upright acoustic bass. Very rich sounds they put out. The cellist was from Santa Cruz and is having her first novel published in December. They met at a danish shop, Stefano was tapping a Mingus tune on table to himself when Elisa (the cellist) started humming the piano parts. They didn't speak a single word to each other until the next morning when she asked him how he liked his eggs. All of us went out for drinks after their show. I missed you so much.

Tommorrow I'm meeting with the curators at Musee d'Orsay to view and advise the restoration of a Camille Corot along with advising them on the acquistion of some debatable Whistler's from a seller in Germany. Hopefully I'll get to meander around their halls some too!

yours,
Odysseus

Letters to Penelope 2 : In France

Dear Penelope,

Just got out of a fantastic dinner with Charles. Had a delicious duck breast with a honey lemongrass glaze and terrific round tasting of various wines that Charles selected for us. He knows his wines. He gave the conosseiur explanations of each of the wines filling in what the waiter failed to mention. He doesn't write for Wine Tasting Magazine cause he drank a couple bottles in college. He's studied and travelled tasting wines. Said he was planning to purchase a vineyard in Arizona in the near future. There's a nice plot of land he's been eyeing. I offered my feet for a couple early morning stompings if he needed it. I told him of my interest's to pursue my own artwork again and find a market for it. He told me it was my nihilistic attitude toward the world that disenabled me from really taking advantage of my talent and letting the world see my work. I had to admit he was right.

I met with the friendly curatorial staff of Oriental Antiques at the Louvre today; Nancy, Binod, and Samir, showed me their as of now secret private collection of newly acquired alabaster figures and my jaw must have dropped to the floor, Pen I tell you, I haven't seen anything this beautiful since I last saw your face. These were something to behold. Genuine 4th century Babylonian figures from the decorative Hellenistic style. Gold inlayed into the eyes and designed necklace. They were priceless. We were all so excited to have come across these ancient artifacts. Tommorrow I get a guided grand tour of Etruscan period treaures. I'm practically salivating over the thought of seeing some Cimabue and Giotto up close, special.

All my love,
Odysseus

Letter #1

Dear Penelope,

Am just now getting settled into the hotel room they've booked for me. Twenty two hour journey in total because of a three hour layover delay in Prague on top of a ridiculous fiasco in customs over some guy who was in line just ahead of me trying to bring in fireworks and body wash. Naturally this was right after I switched into that line. Why does that always seem to happen to me? All those times at grocery stores, bookstores, as soon as I switch lanes that seem to be going faster, then and only then does that line seize from moving all together.

The book you recommended to me has been wonderful. I'm really relating to the character Howard a lot in his manner and way of seeing his place in the world. I like how he doesn't take any of the mediocrity being pushed towards him, no compromises. He does it only for himself and I like that. I like the quote, ' I don't build to have clients. I have clients so I can build.' This Peter Keating fellow is such a wreck. How can he live like that? Soulless charlatan living on the surface. He reminds me of the masses. The skimers, the easy-goer's. Never really contributing anything to society but merely feeding off the past, what's be done before. There will always be lots of those.

Going to be meeting with Charles tommorrow evening for dinner at some a la carte restaurant overlooking a giant fountain of Posiedon and nymphs he highly recommends. Charlie said they have a wonderful selection of Sangiovese and a Penfolds Grange that is to die for. I'm expecting they do. Charlie always knows the best places for out of this world wine and dining. Prior to that I'm scheduled to meet with the curatorial staff of Oriental Antiques at the The Louvre to advise them on acquiring a 6th-7th century Phoenician 'Grinning Mask' for their collection. Also they want me to take a look at some new alabaster figures one of their buyers purchased in Sumer not too long ago, they want my opinion on if they're authentic or not. Can't wait! Alabaster as you know is one of my favorite materials to handle.


Yours truly,

Odysseus

People of Affection

Rebecca told me of a dream she had with me in it where we were in a anonymous room, blank, like a hotel room. The only furniture in the room was a bed and a closed entertainment center with a television in it, but we weren't watching. She said we were sitting in bed, fully clothed, and just giggling, not being able to stop. I had a bunch of my drawings laid out on the bed and finally at some point got out of bed, stood up, and said ,'fine!', sat back down in bed, and we kept laughing hysterically again. I like the idea that somebody thinks of me this way in their subconscious, giggling with drawings strewn about.

Justo just came to thank me for his 'wake-ups'. I made him a compact disc with Leonard Cohen's 'The Future' on it and he has been apparently waking up to the song every morning since. He just wanted to thank me for that. Justo is a black man with a daughter. A single dad, probably mid-to late thirties, although could be in his early forties, hard to tell, he wears crutches that make him seem older than he maybe is, he's soft spoken and kind. He and I occassionally talk, sharing a 'how you doing?', or 'yo' in the mornings or in passing, but rarely anything to penetrating. All I did was essentially steal and give him a song that I didn't create and he did the rest. He took it home and listened to it 'five times in a row' he said and every morning since. He said it makes his mornings more soothing, calming. I'm glad I could make Justo happy with the simple act of a kind gesture. Justo was let go later that day though.

After twenty four centuries the Council of Aelin decided to take a look at the people of Earth again to see what they had been up to. Separately six individual recruits were deployed across the planet Earth....

* One arrives in the middle of a gang fight and is immediately shot out of surprise by one of the gang members. He feels perplexing disorientation upon being shot, like if you mistakeningly walked into the wrong hotel room to find a toweled man rubbing on deodorant standing outside the bathroom looking at you. He never made it back to Aelin to report his findings.
* One appears at a baseball game and watches a fan accidently spill a drink on another guy and start to fight. The Aelin recruit is baffled by the irrational fanacticism. Not until the drunken brawl is broken up by security does the Aelin gather her surroundings enough to realize that she was involved in watching a game. Still she fails to grasp what could instigate the reaction between the two humans.
* One sees a robber with a gun stealing a woman's car but not before raping her in her own backseat. The Aelin tries to save the woman from the assailant but the young victimizer gets away before he can catch him. He attempts to console the beaten woman who is in shock and bleeding.
* One quietly appears while a artist is intently working on a painting. After secretly watching the artist paint for a bit, she slips out the open sliding door through the yard, finding a young woman walking her dog down the street. The Aelin follows her for a while before walking into a grocery store and watches people shop for food.
* One sees people working in a car manufacturing plant while they plug and scan in parts. The Aelin has problems seeing the people at first, they look like machine parts themselves. At a later point fails to see why people are needed for these tasks at all?
* One stands in to see a cook in his kitchen busily preparing food for his dinner guests who arrive in half an hour. She savours the aroma's and pinches a taste while the cook isn't looking and quickly leaves to not startle the intent chef. She reports that humanity, despite having bad taste in movies and wallpaper, has an exquisite talent for concocting casserole.


There's a question that this makes me ask and that is, if aliens were to come spontaneously and randomly to visit you going about your day, what would they see you doing and is it something you are proud of? Also, since this story involves extra-terrestrial characters, suggesting it's of a cosmic scope, there should be some retrospection on what we are doing as a human species together, in other words, how things are going. Realizing that once we've figured out what is happening in our own little lives, that there are millions of other humans populating this bigger thing we all share and inhabit, and looking at what are we doing as a collective to make this the best as possible. If we were to have dinner guests over to our house what would we want to serve? Assuming we'd want to provide a healthy and tasty menu for our guests.