Around Here

The streets at the beach are crowded with weekend togs and alerted elbows. Darting glances and furtive assessments, showy banter, divert prickly interest and the sun’s impassive gong. Away from home the paroled soul takes in  the sensuous vista a drink, a wave,  the pleasure of having a body. The tang and tease of a song  snatched in passing self-seeds and grows .

I encountered two women in the last few days who wore color contact lenses. One set was flagrantly striking - golden banana with an outline of sienna, rather otherworldly. The other wore a more subtle hazel bronze. Seems this color range is in vogue. But regardless of how subtle, they render eye contact, one of the most enjoyable aspects of human interaction, impossible. There is no twinkle. No fleeting recognition of the life within, no exchange. You’re looking into the eyes of a lifeless, if clever, android. And the wearer generally projects an attitude of having an advantage. And they do. You’re shocked and repelled, but mute. Embarrassed. Some part of you needs to honor the sham. As if they really are replicants - but don't know. Someone who refuses to make eye contact at all, or responds with an averted gaze communicates, however lamely, something. But what the opacity of color contacts withhold, in their very engagement, is infinitely more profound.

T he lady in white, yes! I was watching my fav Woody Allen movie, Manhattan Murder Mystery, a couple nights ago and noticed that the newspaper Diane is reading as she and Woody walk into the lobby of their building is the Daily News. I remember it fondly. I have wimpy wrists too. You can wear anything I can. I mostly liked the watchband - brown leather and olive canvas. Remember your dog, Olive? She puts in an appearance, snapping at the ocean waves, in my story Once Upon A Time In The Sand. I enjoyed your video - it had a conceptual/minimalist feel, and a nice presence. Your August Break series posts and photos are tres cool. Love the one of the dinosaur menacing the ferris wheel. Is there anything better than a toasted tomato sandwich? Well, OK, the Beatles, but it's close... I like your hair color. Blonde looks best a tad drab, n'est pas? I'd love to see you in a Louise Brooks style bob, maybe a little longer, but not much. I'd be overwhelmed living immersed in that...