The Scent of a Woman

Scent of a woman

The various scents of a woman are particularly powerful, whether it be her natural fresh bouquet, her perfume, or her arousal.

Once welcomed in a woman quickly inhabits a man’s space. It is women who turn simple food into a better dinner, and can transform a house into a far more desirable home. Her small touches slowly breathe life and feminine energy into a man’s usually sparse and minimalist environment.

But that is not all: she wants all of you.

Soon you will catch her wearing your dress shirts, your baseball caps, and your boxers… if only to prove there is no place you can go that she cannot follow. Her bras and panties will be hanging from your shower rod as a clear sign the bathroom too belongs to her. It is the loveliest of conquests.

In time you sleep in the ether of your lover.

Twas the Night Before Christmas

Christmas 2

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by the chimney with care,
In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there.

The children were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads.
And mamma in her kerchief, and I in my cap,
Had just settled our brains for a long winter’s nap.

When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.

The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer.

With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name!

“Now Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! To the top of the wall!
Now dash away! Dash away! Dash away all!”

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky.
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of Toys, and St. Nicholas too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my head, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot.
A bundle of Toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler, just opening his pack.

His eyes-how they twinkled! his dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow.

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath.
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook when he laughed, like a bowlful of jelly!

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself!
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings, then turned with a jerk.
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose!

He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ‘ere he drove out of sight,
“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!”

by Clement Clarke Moore (1779 – 1863)

The Brume of Asian Mysticism

Many people consider Asian mysticism and philosophy superior to western religions, particularly Christianity, if for no other reason than they make so little demand on our character.

Eastern religions have not ascended up to some neutral ether; oh no, they have dissolved into a mystical brume.

It is the inevitable disintegration from monotheism, to polytheism, to paganism down to an ambivalence towards forces that are no longer good and evil (both personal) but less offensively positive and negative.

Why? Because Asia—or any part of it—was never revitalized by the divine Personage as Palestine and the central Roman Empire was by the transformative figure of the Nazarene.

No, Asia was left uninterrupted in its philosophical melting, never being flash boiled to superior spiritual steam or flash frozen into the solid ice of Divinity in which we may see our reflection, if only darkly.

Asia is, writ large over millennia, what America has suffered over two centuries: we have devolved from pure reason, clear virtue, and sacred aspirations (in various forms and phases) to a sensualized, selfish, tepid broth of social impulse sorting.

By indifference we have bestialized ourselves back down to primal impulses and, like every boorish “might makes right” culture (Darwinism) before us, we shake our fists and curse with blasphemies old and new anything and anyone who would dare suggest a fig leaf of modesty or self-restraint.

We have convinced ourselves all paths lead to the same destination.

Technically, that’s true: and it’s a place of fire and forgotten existences.

We’ve become the Mad People who will one day be relegated to those proverbs people tell their children as dire warnings.

There only ever was, is or will be one singular Truth.

Everything else is imitation.

Everyone else is an imposter.

A Swingin’ Trio

For the better part of this month I have been in Austin, Texas serving as Production Designer & Art Director on A Swingin’ Trio, a romantic drama written and directed by Kelvin Phillips and produced by his lovely wife Carla.

Michael Morlan is delivering some great images with his Red One as Director of Photography.

The Intervention of the Sabine Women

Intervention of the Sabine Women

The famous French Neoclassical painter Jacques-Louis David (1748–1825) is one of my favorite painters.

I remember seeing The Intervention of the Sabine Women (1799) as a child and it always struck me how beautiful it was.

And I like his name too.