...I would invite every one of my handsome, adorable, clever neighbors to my apartment for Thanksgiving dinner.
If I could, I would expand my list of invitees, like a sparkling balloon, to include parents, children and all manner of pets. How I would love to be introduced to them all.
If I could, I would alter the design of my dinner table into something Dr. Seuss or Lewis Carroll might design - curving into space, higher and higher - until it had lengthened sufficiently so that every one of you could find a place.
If I could, I would alter the space continuum so that my kitchen would be BIG ENOUGH to accommodate the positively epic, Edwardian dinner I would plan for you.
If I could, I would alter the time continuum so that my far-flung precious ones would be able to find their way to the Aubrey domicile with ease and economy. And yet still be able to travel first-class.
If I could, I would place a glass of flower-like, art nouveau proportions at each place setting. It would be full of champagne, and glittering at the bottom would be either a diamond bracelet, or a brace of diamond cufflinks. They are for you.
If I could, I would arrange the champagne toasts thusly: they would not be to your hostess, to your family, or to your loved ones. You would not toast this innocent North American holiday. You would, instead, toast yourselves.
Because words fail me.
Happy Thanksgiving, all.
When "speck" is defined as a noun, it is 'a very small mark, or amount', it is 'a bit'.
But when "Speck" is the name of a cat, it is defined as "Get out of my room":
As a future tense, it is defined as, "I don't have to tell you what will happen if you don't":
LOCATION: Lake Tahoe, California
TIME: August, 1963
SUBJECT: Mother
ACT ENGAGED BY SUBJECT: Swimming
b. Dogpaddle
IDENTIFYING MARKS: Dark Sunglasses
CURRENT CONDITION OF SUBJECT: Fabulous
The poppy is an uncomplicated creature. It has one color. It is not parasitic or solitary. It grows simply, and in groups, like schoolchildren.
But its symbolism is rich, with a magnitude that has spanned many countries, and many centuries. For such a little flower it carries meanings that are vast and weary; that are eternal and quiet in the earth.
In Greece and Rome the poppy meant sleep and death - worlds beneath the cold eyelid. Opium was extruded from its seeds and sleepy breaths colored ancient dens and palaces. Poppies decorated the tombstones of their dead, welcoming the lengthy sleep. In Persian literature, the poppy is called the eternal flower - for emotions unrelenting and without end; for loyalty without limit.
The poppy fields in The Wizard of Oz were billowing and fearsome, promising an everlasting sleep. In Egypt opium was daubed on the neck and wrists like a hypnotic perfume.
It wasn't until 1915 that the significance of the little red flower passed into Europe as well, when the ground was already red. Towards the end of the year a poem was published - a trifle sentimental, a little maudlin, as most affairs of the heart are - and its beginning is familiar:
"In Flanders Fields the poppies blow
Between the crosses row on row...
The fragrant drops of blood growing amongst the white purity must have been a shocking sight to the soldier; in a poem it might be less awful but no less meaningful. The poppy had become a part of their spoiled landscape.
"That mark our place: and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below
1915 was a terrible year. Gallipoli - Ypres - Nueve Chapelle - Loos - The Battles of the Isonzo...the poppies must have shuddered in the stinging breeze.
"We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders Fields
When the war was over, and the hardness and the bitternress had set in, the poppy had adopted another symbol - the four blasted years that had called the Edwardians in from their play, that had rubbed the gilt off the lily. Its brave, bloody image was burnt on the dying soldier's eyes.
On Veteran's Dan/Remembrance Day the popppy is worn, sewn into wreaths, displayed in houses (Aubrey does this): it is still held high.
"Take up our quarrel with the foe:
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields"
I was walking home - desperately - from work one day, shuddering with my disinterest, when I looked up and saw a simple composition floating in the impatient sky. All of the elements were ruled by astronomy, so as each second passed, they were shifted by a celestial sleight-of-hand.
I saw a crescent moon, hanging in the sky like a slice from a ghostly fruit. A rag of cloud, the color of sweetness - apricots, irises - was pulled across the pale lunar fraction. The sky was a gentle product of the negotiation between daylight and sunset: a lavender agreement.
The sky assembles visions like this every evening. It is common drink. But I would dare anyone to take a sip from this vignette ordinaire and not return home happy and reeling.
"And behold, and lo," it was said. And thence came a creature empowered with seven horns, seven eyes and seven Spirits.
And there were seven seals.
The first seal...
was Conquest:
Boyfriend had an excellent day of surfing at Asilomar Beach. I couldn't tell: there were dozens of black wet-suited figures in the water. But all I could tell was that it was early, I was hungry and I wanted to go to the Monterey Aquarium.
The second seal...
was War:
I chased Boyfriend down on the bumper car rides at the boardwalk in Santa Cruz. Always hug the curb, friends, and then attack from the inside.
The third seal...
was Famine:
I was so hungry on Saturday. Fortunately there is a place on the Santa Cruz wharf that serves a dish that is built thusly: a slice of sourdough bread is covered with a mix of crabmeat, shrimp and mushrooms in a cream sauce and then topped with Monterey jack cheese.
The fourth seal...
was Death:
Something, that is, that I wished on Boyfriend and something I believe I narrowly escaped after he insisted I ride the Hurricane rollercoaster on the boardwalk. And yes, the website is correct: I did not notice the beautiful ocean views.
The fifth seal...
was a Vision of Martyrs:
On Halloween, Boyfriend and I saw the original 'Night of the Living Dead' on TV. I'm not sure - is the story here a little martyr-like? This was my first zombie film, so there were many things that confused me.
The sixth seal...
was Earthquake:
There was a 3.7 magnitude earthquake on the Sunday that we left for home. The earthquake was in Central California. We were in Central California. I don't think I need to explain further.
The seventh seal was the Trumpets of Angels and the end of the world:
On Sunday we went to the Monarch Butterfly Habitat. The butterflies fluttered like gilded angels. The migrations forced upon them are tremendous, and many do not survive.
Boyfriend and I have made this trip every year that we've been together: a considerable time. We stay in Pacific Grove, visit Monterey, spend the day in Santa Cruz.
We haven't encountered anything yet to make us change our plans.
