Today, we’re going to talk about heteronormativity. Strap on your big-kid panties.
As it is well known I am a huge and unabashed fan of Neil Gaiman. I breathe for the man’s writing and imagination and sheer wit. I picked up View from The Cheap Seats — which is a nonfiction collection that I highly recommend if you’re a writer in need of inspiration — as soon as it was released in my store. So finally finishing the Ocean at the End of the Lane, I realized it has left its mark on me as much of Neil Gaiman’s work does on me and I am in for the long haul.
This review will be spoiler free as possible because I do not want to spoil this experience for anyone else, but there will be general synopsis given so if you don’t want that, I should say you remain here at the start while the rest of us travel down to the end of the Lane and into the world of Lettie Hempstock and her Ocean.
Welcome to the Cerebral Hedonist and here comes a thought…
The main character who can only be known as “the boy” as it is told from his point of view and no one seems to want to use his name, lives on a lane in fairly rural country.
Somewhere in England…
We’re here to talk about the story, not my inability to use a map. Continue reading
She walked across the bridge, her bouquet in hand. Her veil was of purest red and her dress was a lovely affair of rouge and black lace. It brushed the front of her thighs and fell down to the back of black heels in a gorgeous train similar to blood. Her hair was darker than the night and was pulled up into two wraps near the back of her head with the veil intertwined with them. With a face paler than the moon and lips like crimson rose petals, she was beautiful. The markings of her royalty fell off her cheeks like black tears from her crystalline eyes. Her people watched their princess, soon to be queen, walk up to the altar beneath the night sky. With words spoken in true love, she would save their lives. Pandora, their beautiful city in the shadow of the moon, would be saved with their princess’s marriage to their beloved prince. The bride, however, had no qualms with this being a ritual that was more for the city than for her happiness. If she had any doubts about the union all she had to do was look up at the man who chose her, out of all his fourteen princesses, to become queen. She was truly blessed and truly honored. Continue reading
Who am I to drink in love’s sweet wine and take its life-giving miracle?
Who am I to deny my end when the raven leaves its feather at my door?
I am only human, so I am no one.
Therefore as a human, if I deny that my love is as hollow as a dead elm and is just as diseased, would it make my longing more bearable?
Or as no one, would it simply be a fact undeniable?
I alone carry a love that ages to perfection like full-bodied French Syrah.
Yet once my love is breathed into another, the fruit rots and the wine is spoiled.
What good is my love if only I can partake of it; that is, if only I can drink of its richness without the grape itself spoiling within my body?
Is there someone who can savor the intensity that is my desire?
Someone who can breathe its sweet hypnotic aroma?
Someone who can taste its deluding lushness?
Is there someone who can partake without slipping into anguish’s arms under the beautiful guise of Euphoria?
No, my lush Syrah will remain untouched and continue to age
So that I alone will know its strong scent
I alone will know its flavor and twist my tongue at its pleasurable bitterness
So when the raven drops its feather at my door and I hear the bells toll in the distance,
I will be human and I will be alone…
-Harli V. Park-
Urrg, having skipped that one post has been a pain to think about. I really have been suffering on the scheduling train. I can’t tell if its too much to do or that I lack ideas. Probably a combo of both, but I managed! Day 14. This was a rough one. Hopefully I’ll have a better start this week and not feel like crap.
At least you guys are enjoying this, though. So many new people! Makes me happy!
Hang in there with me! It get’s better once I feel out how my schedule is going to fall!
Like, Follow, Share, Email Subscribe! Do the thing! and see you next post!
The streetlamp went off at six this morning and a young woman was kissing her boyfriend goodbye as he headed to the bus stop. Watching him board the cross-town bus and vanish on the horizon. As she began to get ready for work herself, she wondered what news she would bring home to him. Continue reading