H2Omeloncholy

Sunday, August 11, 2013

stop n' frou-frou

VOGUE copyright Conde Nast

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Now and again, you spot 'em. He may be a retro-as-metro dandy; she is oft mistaken for a stylist - fired - from the set of Mad Men. She, quasi-contrarily, is an insular poet with a insouciant approach to fashion that inadvertently inspires.

Either one happens upon a vintage scrap - not a rind, gnawed - but a few loose strings seeking conclusive expression. What to do when one is too cosmopolitan to care all that much? How does style present? It tends to lay back - cool - and settle in the skin of those who are mindful of their flare as a way to care. Oomph is altruistic. The same hand that gesticulates a substantive word is quick to commit some random act of chic. Can a hand be relentless in its grasp for Beauty - any and everywhere? 'Arms race'. Two limbs stop...to observe their own ethos. They itch when in need of edge. 'Armed', one can sense when accessorizing is in order.

Wrists, in particular? In surreal political solidarity, one dares to find the aesthetic 'order' in a cuff. "Tu chez", any sadomasochist gentlesoulfolk are inclined to utter - if they are not presently melon ball-gagged.

Law n' order. Stop n' fashion.

Beauty is truth because it cuts thru chaos. From yon nebula, Beauty extracts form. Would that frisky justice could make the same claim. Beauty endows all six senses with the unique authority to assemble. This synthesis exposes the elemental. Style - when in resistance to fad - is autonomy. Not luxury, but necessity, Beauty is our authenticity manifest. Our core is never a blank canvas. Free, it...be...as the interstellar, kinetic (ink)well or gravitational center of creativity. Art, ironically enuf, is Order - far mo' sensual than sensical. Restoration of what is most primal then glimpses The yet possible. Thaz da exercise of right to Art. William Calgreve's 'orderly' take?

"Music has charms to soothe a savage breast."

How much one regrets that our cuff's cotton is neither bullet-proof nor taser-repellent. H2Oweaponized fabrication would far betta assist those 'SWOE of Gotham or Paradise(Long)Island. Oh, uh...'SWOE? Thanks so for asking:

Stolling Whilst Other-ed Ethnic.

Lynda Carter as 'sMarvel Comics' Wonder Woman
AMBASSADOR of Themyscira
a.k.a. Paradise Island, home to Amazons

Why the apostrophe befo' "S"?

...'swonderful, 'smarvelous...'swoeful

One's still-let-Oh's are tied to replicate the traditional knot of Mammies' checkered kerchief chapeaus. Why veer now from haute history? Our cuff follows suit.

http://h2omeloncholy.blogspot.com/2013/06/still-let-oh.html

The 'outer' melon's green-striped skin is cut to approximate the length of 'Onassis' gloves - midway upon the forearm.

The accessory-end-all of etiquette was made famous by a First Lady whom epitomized ornamental 'order' to a generation that hosted the Civil Right's Movement. Canine 'units' ripped at grandma-stitched hems of Sunday best skirts as Oleg Cassini couture was modeled by one of high society's last heroines. It whiplashes bateau necklines and disslocates Gaze - does it not - when societal order is H2Ohosed and egged by its own Fabergé-imitated fragility? The Bouvier side of the fam ingratiated 'Merican lore with a glamorous finale as timely as timeless. Post-Gatsby ostentation reflected post-Fitzgerald, bootlegged aspiration. The Kennedy White House defined an era's aesthetic. The tone was taste. Camelot refined it, from imported hangers - in its closets - to Scalamandré drapery deemed inferior to frame its view. Lil' surprise that the wardrobe for defense of mid-century mobility remains The standard. Who would remain the exclusively attired aristocracy and who would be granted the opportunity for acquisition? On n' up, we do quest. Nevadaless, culture shocked a condensed decade wherein the white, kid leather glove of debutantes bowed to the black fist-ed glove of Other-ed Ethnic 'Power'.

1968 Summer Olympics, Mexico City

Gold -Tommie Smith, Bronze - John Carlos, Silver - Australian Peter Norman 'sporting' a solidarity badge.

Badge - OPHR, Olympic Project for Human Rights

At the time, unlike Eleanor Roosevelt **, Jacqueline-then-Kennedy found Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. to be "phony" and "tricky". From those transcripts, one is relieved to report no use of the loaded charge: "uppity". Ms. Kennedy's 'prism' was ostensibly proof of J. Edgar Hoover's tentative momentum in discrediting both man and movement. These ill-begotten efforts by the FBI Director proved - eventually - for naught; Ms. Kennedy reconciled with the King Family. Following JFK's funeral, howeva, a grieving Jacqueline Kennedy communicated her revulsion at glancing upon MLK's photo. Her evolution to admiration is a testament to much.

Just how much? One writes presently - and past - of our infinite, internal space. It seeks it own expansion to reveal itself once healed and thus, wholly beautiful. The transition speaks well for the First Lady, herself. Mo' so? Her growth is quite a rare, public sample of humanity's inclination towards what is least celebrated yet most elegant in our nature - humility. Few allow the ego of righteousness to be thrown down like a Musketeer gauntlet. Is one ever more polished then when one is donned - head to toe - in nuttin' but pillbox-ed-topped, pearl-stranded, kitten-heeled, ~~brutal~~ beauteous honesty?

One's own humbled estimation of Ms. Kennedy's most elegant aesthetic turn? Just hours into widowhood, reportedly her aids and even ~~Vice~~ President Johnson encouraged her to change out of her blood-spattered, pink Chanel suit. To Camelot's last breath, somehow, she managed to abide by that ethos of its costume department: eva astonishingly apropos. De rigueur has never been in finer form - so defiant. Her reply to all concerned with 'appearance'?

"Let them see what they've done."

To her credit, in 2011, First Daughter, author, esquire, philanthropist, poetry advocate, post-figure of Senatorial speculation, and current Presidential nominee for Japanese Ambassadorship, Caroline Kennedy released these controversial tapes. Recorded in 1964, that soft voice of the über-private, late First Lady can now be heard - in acerbic critique - for all to hear and judge upon their own accord. What trust her child has placed in the collective discretion of the unwashed mass.

Caroline Kennedy's choice was an exceptionally generous vote of confidence in an aware citizenry. Her bravery required some modicum of belief in a certain level of societal sophistication. Yo, Lincoln also opined da contradiction of a nation's conscience. The deeper the nuance, the wider the arc of our conviction. Rising to the occasion is, perhaps, less innate to character than a feat - sum'in to accomplish. Whom amongst us cannot count inner hurdles to jump, bridges to cross, and winding, unpaved roads to traverse? This is the complicated - shared - journey prior to reaching our higher grounding. Flawed humanity offers a more (w)holistic portrait of and appreciation for authentic leadership - of country, family, or Self. The myth of iconoclasts - setting trend or law - who would be canonized, daresay, 'cuffs' or 'arrests' any cultured development.

Truth? Beauty!

To the last, living member of Camelot? A fabric, cuffed, fist bump...

...along with all-due post-props, dissOrientalized dap, and mad melon-ups for keepin' it real a la H2Omeloncholy™.

**
http://h2omeloncholy.blogspot.com/2013/07/a-lady-first.html

P. S.
If confirmed as 'Merica's Ambassador to Japan, might the official travel itinerary happen to coincide with a Densuke auction? Can ya dig it, my good peops? Fo'sooth, 'twould prove a most surreal, diplomatic coup of melon proportions. Details attached:
http://h2omeloncholy.blogspot.com/2013/07/waiting-for-gourdoh.html

a clever as compassionate critique

on the implausibility of

POSTness

Til our next 'post', feast upon produce in season...

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

hell's angles

VOGUE copyright Conde Nast

Granted, gentlesouldfolk, to respect the present topic, one could have angled a graphic of some geometric theorem. It could have been accompanied by a photo of a Hell's Angel's leather jacket, upon the motorcycle enthusiast and/or gang banger, revving his/her engine. Seemingly unrelated here - save the title - imaging a 1930's Howard Hughes' film, starring Jean Harlow, still manages to feel less absurd than a motorcycle safety bill with abortion edits riding b-tch. Besides, yo, catch the 'color'? Vibe with that energy of the flames at feminine feet. The fluidity of her likely, bias-cut gown is an eerie precursor to our blog's background. No angles, just XX chromo curves. Alas, would that Image was all.

Hell's ~~angels~~ a-n-g-l-e-s. Enuf to toss the spectrum's prism for a trapezoid. Call it a post-angle moment wherein angles are no longer sharp and have exhausted themselves past relevancy. In circles, we go. North Carolinian Republican representatives initially used a bill to ban Sharia law (HB 695) as a cover for abortion provisions. O-tay...the audacity to address the 'threat' of Sharia law...in 'Merica? Frank Kapra meet Franz Kafka. Perhaps, Mr. Smith's trek to Washington is an improvised two-act in theatre of the absurd.

Realizing - as much as reality's faint, solar ray can peek thru surreal clouds - that another bill might prove mo' cogent on a gubernatorial desk, (SB 353) motorcycle safety proposals 'fit (beg thy pardon) the bill'.

The game, Telephone, is played amongst children - dependent citizens, not of age, deemed ineligible to vote due to lack of judicial maturity. The adult facilitator of the game will often emphasize the impact of gossip in community. Whether a singular word or complex sentence, the original message that launches the game is usually, hardly recognizable. No longer a flimsy whisper at the mercy of intimate exchange, it is an utterance - out there - instructive in its warped state. This analogy is merely suggestive. Despite the vacancy of our comment section (eh-hem...), H2Omeloncholy™ remains an interactive blog. One concedes to your esteemed judgment as to whether Telephone, the sport, might indeed be applicable to North Carolina's mode of drafting legislation.

How can such a polarizing issue - if ye will - soaring hawk of our cultural wars, be justifiably relegated to POST or after-thought when put to a vote...for Sharia law or the efficacy of a motorcycle helmet? One understands the 'down low' of it all - the underhanded anti-logic to avoid open discourse. The defense of one's beliefs is generally a welcomed opportunity amongst those for whom their ethics are a professional exercise.

H2Omeloncholy™ - as hypothesis, with blog as test - is an attempt to articulate that visceral undercurrent which creates the intention that becomes Activism. What permeates our ether - informing thought and spurring events - yet alludes speech? And why? How meaning gets mired in subterranean consciousness. Decoding that space or plane, in order to untie the tongue, (hard)drives each posting.

What, my good peops, of mouths chalked full to nigh choke? Examples are too prevalent in the latest abortion bills from North Carolina. This - from a state that inspired one of James Taylor's finest, artistic hours and produced two Stephen Colbert-s - both creator and character. (Colbert is actually a South Carolinian but why sacrifice that last sentence for post-pesky logistics?) From late-night satire to early-ed lit: Stuffing any legislative bill with Wilbur's 'pork' and Charlotte's webbed messages wins no ribbons and fairs badly. There are few subjects assured to illicit passion, as immediate as intense, on either side, as abortion. Curiously, these bills - too - are proof of H2Omeloncholy's™ veracity. Even sum'in as arguably elusive as 'Inclusion' can be perverted so. Absence can be the oddest synonym for pedagogy as 'principled' policy; both are equally void of autonomy.

The bureaucratic subterfuge - of established abortion rights - has been busy as of late. Walmart prices rollback at a slower pace. Nevadaless, the advocates occupation with skeptical means may insult their own, apparent aim. Where - in the thick of that muck - is a fetus sovereign? This subversion of egalitarianism assumes it is heading towards its respective state capitols. However, the lack of transparency, i. e., reverence for a bill - itself, dog-ears a sacred, social contract and sets it to far lesser song than the iconic cartoon of School House Rock.

If such tactics are counter to the morality - professed as the seat of said debate - might such machinations send these efforts straight to a hell of hypocrisy in a melon-red, lined hand basket? To slaughter another idiom: The road to hell is paved with post-Roe (v. Wade) intentions. When our legislative process is openly manipulated to close discussion - essential to the maintenance of democracy - cowardice becomes constitutional. Yet again. The Fourteenth Amendment redressed that most egregious error. Where, oh, where done gone that teachable moment? Pointedly, the following does not link the abolition of slavery with abortion rights. Rather, one questions the integrity of those privileged to be chosen to write law. If they possess the courage, let alone, confidence of their convictions for any issue of governance, such should be clearly reflected in the political process. There can then be no affront. Instead, standing tall equates a positionality front and center. Is abortion 'pork' to ride b-tch or ride the coattails of what The Framers intended a bill to express or achieve?

Theory of String? Straight lines, homez, straight-up. Sure, you've got your standard points, dualities, even angular momentum. M-theory - reportedly named for "membrane"(though c'mon, we know dem physicists meant 'melon') - plucks those theoretical strings into eleven dimensions. Quite a few quantum twists and/or turns.

Yet n' still? Ain't the same as working the hell outta angles.

a clever as compassionate critique

on the implausibility of

POSTness

Til our next 'post', feast upon produce in season...

Saturday, August 3, 2013

forty melons & a mute

VOGUE copyright Conde Nast

Forty melons and moot point. H2Omeloncholy™, homez, H2Omeloncholia™. Sometimes a moment is beyond melonified. The question as to whether the right Zimmerman verdict was reached is too complex for a Senatorial vote of yea/nay.

Once again, that very complexity - daresay, dichotomy? "Wow, betcha by Golly," H2Omeloncholy™!

Q: Did the six women of the jury come correct?
A:

Legally? Yes. Ethically? No.

And this existential quandary, my good peops? That, there be the crux of this blog's creation. Can ya dig it? 'Course not. And kudos to you. Nuttin' to dig - all too absurd. Can't eva be down with disconnect. Does NASA possess the priceless lens to capture the galactic ocean 'twixt constructive jurisprudence and conscious justice? Such plagues any notion of sense - common - or otherwise. Has Reason writ its letter of resignation? Be there a digestible answer? Our angst - at least - is in earnest.

BOTTOM & TITANIA, Scene from "A Midsummer Night's Dream - oil on canvas - Edwin Henry Landseer, 1848

File:Landseer Midsummer Night's Dream.jpg

When in doubt, one turns to da Bard. Pre-Willy, Greek chorus originated the talking head. With the exception of, perhaps, four plays, Shakespeare's tendency was to stuff the choral talking head and place it on a platter. Titus' Lavinia 'hits' A Midsummer Night's 'Bottom' - weaving surreal, tragic post-poetry. The mouth is full with a yarn most mute.

** No mention of nor link to Waiting for Gourd Oh (July/2013)? Thanks for your astute inquiry
     as well as this evidence of careful read of prior postings. However, one's blog intent
     implores our awakening - now. "Waiting" is already inferred in allusion to Forty Acres & A
     Mule. Just seemed like more than enuf - yet one shout-out to the bent promise that is the

abbreviated arc to the full spectrum of citizenship. **

a clever as compassionate critique

on the implausibility of

POSTness

Til our next 'post', feast upon produce in season...

CV

Sunday, August 11, 2013

stop n' frou-frou

Wednesday, August 7, 2013

hell's angles

Saturday, August 3, 2013

forty melons & a mute