Happy New Year! I now operate on obelisk time, and today is January 31…one year ago I moved into my towering astronomical clock. To scald out the old and wring in the new, the birds and I took a bath. Here the birds are in their bathing caps, I in my flaming sword:
You will note that crow showed up as a parrot. I have no explanation for this; crow delights in incongruities. I trust that parrot-hood is only a temporary condition intended to confound everybody. Once we’ve grown accustomed to this guise, it’ll vanish, like the shadow of the circling bird when clouds occlude the light.
When I started this scrapbook I did not know that my measured and even conversations with the birds would become silly, intense, with fashion shows, flaming pillow notes, cupid costumes, and a very bad day for the black swan. I had no idea, when I started, what I looked like, or that an accurate depiction of my life required a queerly elaborate picture language. I discover my voice speaking to you.
Here are my ten favorite pages from the 72 I made this year (click to view):
- Beauty in ruin…a conversation with the hawk
- The FASHIONABLE BIRDS
- The stag & the unicorn
- Portraits of the odalisque as a young girl
- Learning to wait
- My swim-suit
- A WOMAN THERE WAS starring Theda Bara
- My first letter from imprisoned odalisque, Henriette
- Publicity photos from my movie
- MY MOVIE!!!!!
Which ones did you favor?
The owl says that WordPress says that if you want people to read you, you go read them and then comment with charm, enthusiasm, and sympathy so that they will be flattered enough to click on your profile to see who you are. Then, you will develop, like Jesus and the Grateful Dead, followers.
As an odalisque of course I want to be gazed upon. But the odalisque’s appeal is her sequestration. She is couched in exquisite seclusion. She is come-to, arrived-at. She does not prowl or solicit. She reclines in recumbent expectancy, like a saint awaiting the ecstasy of her god.
My scrapbook is something you–stumbled upon?
Cyberflaneur, how have you found me? I am at a distance from the world. I have nothing to offer but the sensuousness of my presence. There is no gain in me because I have distanced myself from all that is gainful. Will you come without motives of your own ascendancy? Without sycophancy? Will you come, then come again, delighting, quite simply, in me?
Why do I secret my scrapbook in a social sphere?
I have sequestered myself in this essentially inaccessible obelisk to unearth in my impossible-to-relieve state of expectancy, what it is I wait for. What is it I want as I gaze out windows that are not doors that men can open and close and journey towards?
The owl’s lids slowly shutter owl’s eyes.
When I wake up hours later, I see two yellow lanterns shine from a boat far out at sea.
Owl is still on the window-sill. Eyes open. Watching me.
I am the odalisque who lives in an obelisk. I converse with birds.