So...I've been here a while again now in a high place overlooking the waters of 34°3'N118°14' W. A "familiar old" this place is, this City of Angels, and I am moving fast again like familiar times, my serenity once again a collateral...I have debts to Father Time. But life is GUUUUUD... I am mojomoxy...or another name to a few of you I've met. To the rest: I am mere photographs, a non-soccer mommy w/ an edge, an artist who has once again abandoned skirts and dresses for the rugged threads of non-ending days. Randomly, I put lemon and vinegar on eveything; I like acid in every sense of the word. I have gotten my truffles from Vosges but not the Champagne kind. They were assorted and I shared them with a tall gay man from Brazil. He enjoyed them very much. I have aborted for the time being my "noveling" but my stories remain ripe and uncompleted. The man who is holding on to a memory from a time long ago, one that started in a recessed tavern in Paris, and one that ended with him holding on to a gift box containing an unidentified object lined in its inner core with blue velvet--well, he is still in a fog and I still don’t fully know who he represents. I still don’t know which of the women I've known in my lifetime, including myself, will be the woman he thinks about. This woman is still petite, blond and shrewd. As before, I don't yet know the meaning of the mysterious object. It remains to be a short story, 500 pages, 750 tops. I will go to Paris to find that tavern. My other tale is more of a long prosaic ballad that I copyrighted. It's about the heart of a tragic Marine who abandons his footing on earth for a swim in the sea to save a nymph. And the nymph eats his head. And heart. But the heavens drum for one more beat of his heart. And a mermaid dives deep to redeem the one thing he has left. He gasps, then recovers for all of us the soul of the world. I still drink a lot of sake.
Happy doings: horses, wineries, pool halls. Plays, sunsets and people who are sexy in the way they move and sexy from the stuff that pours out of their soul. Jeans--on me, on anyone; you can be out all day with them. Hats and heels. Bohemian Rhapsody and Evanescence played on the piano but I'll leave all the indoor stuff for all the HOT summer nights outside. I LIKE EVERYTHING. And I like to write about it. So tell me about YOU. I'm here almost daily and I'm listening. Or friend me at Angelina Caviles @ facebook.com.
The box. The box. Ok, sometimes I'll watch stuff my daughters watch like Project Runway & America's Best Dance Crew. Or Monk. What a silly man.
A story can save your life. "Give him a coin and send him on his way. He has a story to tell now."--What movie?
So many, from "A Giving Tree" to Anne Rice's vampire novels to the 9/11 Commission Report. Many years now it's been hardcores. "Guns, Germs & Steel" by Jared Diamond twice, the 2nd time I needed to consult further references to inhale it all in. "End of Faith" by Sam Harris—somewhat grim, recommends we all lose our religion. Not that I have much religion. I do have faith. Still—in ourselves, and the god of HA-HA-HA. You will need shots. Avoid the tabloid mags.