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Jun. 30th, 2005 11:44 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jack_babalon"Between the idea
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow"
~T S Eliot
The Hollow Men
Top Secret, 1997
Acrylic on Board 14 1/4 x 10 1/4 in.
©1999 Naoki Mitsuse
Over at the Eurotrash Cafe last night with Ze Scholar. It's midnight & heat lightning flashes over Midtown. He's furiously transcribing our conversation into his notebook. Hunched over the sole candle on our table, flickering a brief chiaroscuro across the canvas of his face, he's become a character out of a Caravaggio. I lean back and take in a faux impressionist piece hanging in the back of the Eifel overlooking the Seine. It's one of those magickal pieces of art that actually grows uglier everytime you see it. Luckily it hangs in an unlit corner of the patio, so no one allows it to detract from enjoying their 10$ sandwiches & 5$ hummus dips. I still have chlorine in my eyes from a ninja raid on the our friends pool over by Ansley. We swam a good hour and I recupperate with cigarettes and a single Cotes de Rhones nursed into submission.
Suddenly our waitress joins us. Collapsing into the empty chair by the Scholar and immediately declaring "Don't mind me!". She's thin & blond. Attractive in that Nordic Ice Queen kinda way. Not my style but I can see why the eyes linger on her when she leaves. The Scholar is not so easily distracted. He continues to scribble away and I try my best to keep my ideas back until he catches up.
"Don't mind me. I'm too tired to talk." She clarifys unprompted. We honor her request and give her no mind. A few minutes of this go by and she's slumped over the table. She picks up the Scholar's bic. Lights it. Then holds the flame to a red petal of a plastic flower in a small blue vase. The petal does'nt burn and this disappoints her greatly. She gets up and goes back to her tables.
Another few pages done. An act mapped out. A good swim. Not a bad night all in all.
And the reality
Between the motion
And the act
Falls the Shadow"
~T S Eliot
The Hollow Men
Top Secret, 1997
Acrylic on Board 14 1/4 x 10 1/4 in.
©1999 Naoki Mitsuse
Over at the Eurotrash Cafe last night with Ze Scholar. It's midnight & heat lightning flashes over Midtown. He's furiously transcribing our conversation into his notebook. Hunched over the sole candle on our table, flickering a brief chiaroscuro across the canvas of his face, he's become a character out of a Caravaggio. I lean back and take in a faux impressionist piece hanging in the back of the Eifel overlooking the Seine. It's one of those magickal pieces of art that actually grows uglier everytime you see it. Luckily it hangs in an unlit corner of the patio, so no one allows it to detract from enjoying their 10$ sandwiches & 5$ hummus dips. I still have chlorine in my eyes from a ninja raid on the our friends pool over by Ansley. We swam a good hour and I recupperate with cigarettes and a single Cotes de Rhones nursed into submission.
Suddenly our waitress joins us. Collapsing into the empty chair by the Scholar and immediately declaring "Don't mind me!". She's thin & blond. Attractive in that Nordic Ice Queen kinda way. Not my style but I can see why the eyes linger on her when she leaves. The Scholar is not so easily distracted. He continues to scribble away and I try my best to keep my ideas back until he catches up.
"Don't mind me. I'm too tired to talk." She clarifys unprompted. We honor her request and give her no mind. A few minutes of this go by and she's slumped over the table. She picks up the Scholar's bic. Lights it. Then holds the flame to a red petal of a plastic flower in a small blue vase. The petal does'nt burn and this disappoints her greatly. She gets up and goes back to her tables.
Another few pages done. An act mapped out. A good swim. Not a bad night all in all.