Weblog 89

October 21, 2007~ 12:15am
Tonight was a rare treat. We watched a rented film - something we've not done in several weeks - and I enjoyed the experience totally, though I must say the film came as a surprise to me having read the book, "Perfume" years ago when it first came out. I thought I'd remembered it, but I remembered it not at all.



It's a tale that's dark, and more a fable than anything else- the story of a great perfumer of the 18th century, who has no scent of his own at all, but who had the most phenomenal 'nose' in the world. (Actually, in the book, he does come up with a scent for himself to make him more acceptable and recognizable to the humans around him- and it is a mixture of "cat shit, cheese and vinegar". LOL!) He first becomes enraptured by the smell of a virginal girl selling plums in the marketplace, and inadvertantly kills her. He is then obsessed with finding and capturing that particular scent. It sets him on a killing spree- all young, beautiful virgins- then distilling their essense by wrapping them in cloth after smearing animal fat over their entire surface and scraping it off. (I'd remembered none of this-- moreso the strange ending in which, instead of his being executed for the killings, he wears the scent himself and all fall down before him and engage in a spell-induced orgy of sorts, unable to resist the power of pure love- (which is what I supposed his process was able to capture.)



None of this makes sense to me- though I must have been able to suspend belief while reading the book. I was so SURE that movie had completely rewritten the story, I sought out the plot in Wikipedia tonight, only to find that the movie did not deviate a jot from the original text. How strange that I could have forgotten it all...

The movie is as lush as possible visually; I reveled in the richness and detail. It set me to thinking about the magic of perfumes the world over. Since the Egyptians with their myrrh and rare spices, men and women have daubed on what they hope will allure the opposite sex and make them desireable.



Every possible bottle shape and color, Ad campaign and enticement to buy what, in effect- is personal magnetism. I've always been drawn to the pretty containers and curious about the exotic ingredients-- flowers, citrus oils, musk, bergamot, patchouli-- all of them in their exact and distinct measure-- smelling so different, most of them pleasant.



It's so easy to make the leap from 'perfume' to 'magic elixir'. The nose is the real 'truth-teller' of human nature, and we can recall past events most sharply and immediately from scent rather than sight or sound. And who among us is not comforted by the smell of baking bread, the sweetness of baby powder, the safety of a good stew cooking on the stove. And what evokes the season of fall more than the ripe smell of fallen apples fermenting in the yard, the pastoral scent of straw and hayrides? Pumpkin pie, with it's allspice- and pine needles and candle wax with its Christmas associations....

The nose knows. But back to the movie, I'm not at all sure I associate 'love'-- with carnal passion. That's one sort of love, of course, but I don't think it would make a crowd first respond to the villain/protagonist as Messiah or angel, then immediately begin to claw at one another's clothes in order to couple in the marketplace. I don't associate sexual charisma or potency with brotherly love, but hey, that's me. Maybe it makes perfect sense to the next guy, but it played dissonently and illogically to this viewer, and thus became the one big leap I couldn't make in order to have the movie 'work' for me.

Nevertheless, this long, long film is so rich otherwise, you'd be a fool not to watch it if you have the chance. I'd classify it as fable, and flawed...but a helluva thing to see.




October 21, 2007~ 7:45pm
Well here you are...and just in time to savor for Halloween, what I've found to be the most fascinating ghost community link thus far-



Quickly click on the PICTURE GALLERY for some of the most astonishing captures I've ever seen. This London-based group has been around since 1862, and at one time included Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, among other notable persons. After you've browsed the link, here's a bit of history on The Ghost Club I found at Prairie Ghosts. Quite a long-standing, established society of its kind. Wonderful stuff!




October 23, 2007~ 5:15am
I was listening to NPR on the way home yesterday and Terry Gross was interviewing Dave Grohl, the former Nirvana drummer and lead singer of the Foo Fighters. I found him charming. I don't know when I've heard a voice as trembly full of tamped down emotion, barely holding on to smoothness. He sang a lovely song he'd written called, "A Friend Of A Friend" about the late Kurt Cobain. That set me off on an internet search about the shotgun suicide of the dead Nirvana icon, and I came away with such a renewed disgust for his widow, constantly cashing in on her late husband. I also found lots of feuding hatred between she and Mr. Grohl. It inspired this-



Trigger The Downward Slide

Innocent
it was, the listening
to the Foo Fighter tell his tale, and impale
himself
on trembly words
and sing
of a long dead friend
that set me on this course
tonight
of delving deeply
into the
suicide of such an angelic face destroyed
so that
here I sit,
Cobain
brains
in my lap
and wondering why-- a woman
naturally,
an almost
archetype of full-lipped slutty
voomth
(I just made
that up)- sometimes you come across
a thing that has
no name
so you
have to reach into your sack
and put back
all
the things
that might be
useful
to the
human
race, and what
you're left
with, well,
that's

Courtney.
Voomth
to the Nth
degree-
a space
around
a pulsing darkness
filled
with death and ghost, her legs, her
mouth
spread
ope, the original

Thanatos.


There is also a lesson here for any man who marries a woman uglier than himself when he has a face like an angel, is talented, rich-- and she is ambitious.....run.




October 25, 2007~ 8:45pm
How about this old bugger? LOL!!!



Yes, that's SILENUS, Greek deity, hanger-on to Dionysus, sometimes seen with Priapus, often depicted 'in his cups'- and either riding a jackass or wearing the head of one. LOL!! Old fart just can't let the party go on without him. No, he's gotta be dragged along, conscious or not. I just came upon this picture tonight- a Rubens I'd never seen before- and it made me laugh out loud. Oh I've known a few of these fellas......yes indeedy- they never know when the party is over- clueless. And nothing is 'verboten'.

From that end of the spectrum to this magnificent view of golden autumn



Now doesn't that just throw the softest calm on things? The gifted artist is one I'm not familiar with but chanced upon this evening. His name is JOHN ATKINSON GRIMSHAW. What a feast for the eyes! Go on. Pay him a visit. (Let old Silenus snore and dream of frolic and whores in peace. (*grin*) Ah age....but age and licentiousness? Not a pretty picture let me tell you.





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