Showing posts with label Hollywood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Hollywood. Show all posts

Monday, September 29, 2014

Those With Sight

Book one of the Life Goes On series Arc One The Artists Book One "Those With Sight" Shuttered Vision

“What are you doing here?”  She snapped.

He smiled at the little beauty, she felt him as soon as he showed up this time.  She was getting better and better at it. He loved her dress.  It looked like it was patched together like a quilt. All those lovely loud and soft colors that did wonders for her dark skin. It fit her like a glove. She was shorter than him by five or six inches.  She wasn’t a very slender woman. Not fat by any means but she wasn’t one of those super slender super model skinny numbers he had gotten used to in Hollywood.  She had full breasts a slim waist, ample hips and thighs.  He was willing to bet the backside was as well thought out as the front. Her blue black hair fell in soft wavy curls to her shoulders thick and full. Those amazing gray eyes were on him.  She was furious.
“Mad at me for the stolen kiss?” he teased her.
“No I was mad at you for interrupting me with my father.”
“Your father, so you were talking to somebody.  Here I thought you were nuts.”
“You’re in my dream, I’m not the one that’s nuts.”
He laughed at the matter of fact way she said it. “How is that possible huh?  I can be in your dream but you can’t be in mine? I think you have that wrong.”
She just stared at him confused.  He tried to imagine her near him again.  It worked all of two seconds and then she stopped and stared at him.
“Stop that. If you want me to come over there, ask don’t demand.”
It was something about the way she said it made him ask instead. “Would you, if I asked?”
“Why don’t you find out?”
Seemed simple enough. “Will you stand closer to me?”
“How much closer, be specific.”
His hands itched, his mouth watered. “Close enough to touch.”
He watched spellbound as she shifted her hips stepping lightly and smoothly walking over to him.  The motion of her hips was distracting him.  She flowed like water, well set music.  He felt himself respond to her.
“Will you listen to what I have to say to you?” she asked.
“Why do women always need to talk, we have nothing to talk about.” He placed his hand on her face cupping her cheek, it felt like the smoothest silk. “Touching, that’s what we need to do.”
She cupped his hand in hers as she looked him in the eye. “Why are you here?”
He stared at her oddly as the question vibrated in his head like an echo.  Her eyes expanded and started to glow a bit.  He saw a part of her, like a shadow or illusion of her shift away from her and fly into him. He could feel her in his head starting to tear around.  His childhood flashed briefly in his mind and was passed on to his first sexual experience.  He was in his bedroom when he was 17, Janet Tully taking him into her hand for the first time.  He has his first realization about Hollywood as two skinny blondes with fake tits offer him cocaine on their exposed breasts.  The strips of his mind peeling away as he started to lose control of his motorfunctionality lying in the middle of his gameroom.

“No.” Colan sat straight up in bed naked sweating, breathing hard.  
He dropped his head into his hands, the dream vivid in his mind.  The feelings of helplessness and vulnerability were stark in his person. He threw himself back down on the bed with a thud, then gave a disgusted look at his sheet tenting over his erect penis.
“Well good to know you still work in moments of crisis.” He muttered.
He couldn’t blame it, she was gorgeous, that creature he had dreamed about constantly for months now.   Really it was the dreams before that had eventually led to her. It had started sometime after his nervous breakdown.  He would be sleeping and have the most horrific nightmares.  He was in hell and all around him were roaming beasts and fire breathing creatures.  And always some new lamb for the slaughter would drop from the sky and be unmercifully eaten.  He had tried to defeat the beasts and they would come back stronger, more evolved.  After months of these dreams he had resorted to trying to escape.  One night he had gotten to the top where people were dropped in and he had heard singing.
He closed his eyes and recalled the dream.  She had been singing Amazing Grace.  Simple lovely and it had actually sounded like salvation.  He had waited till she finished and then pulled himself up and he had been in that odd field.  She hadn’t seen him.  Just continued about her way.  She would lay in that field humming to herself.  She would do such odd things there as if she was somewhere else seeing something else.  It was like this odd form of pantomime. It wasn’t until a couple of weeks ago she had sensed him and now they actually spoke to each other.

He got out of bed to start his day.  It was such a silly foolish thing, his dream woman.  Everything about her was completely different from what he usually looked for in a woman.  She was a dark skinned brunette he usually went for pale blondes.  She didn’t mince words, his women where usually cunningly coy.  She stood up to him, he hadn’t had a women tell him no in a little over a decade.  The oddest part of the whole thing was that every once in awhile he had to work very hard to convince himself that what happened in his dreams wasn’t real.  That she wasn’t real.  He had done all kinds of research on it.  Dreams were just an extension of repressed desires.  Really he wanted something different from what he was and where he was and she represented it.
He stood in the shower letting the hot water fall over him.  He dropped his head and felt it running through his hair down his neck and shoulders. She was an interesting creation he had to admit. She was black from what he could tell, but those eyes and her hair, the black women back home had never looked like that, not women of any of the races he had grown up around.   There were things that were still considered taboo in Oklahoma, especially in the country.  Dating someone not of your same color was one of them.
Honestly he hadn’t ever really thought about it.  His mother hadn’t raised him to care.  But the people surrounding you always ingrained it in your make-up.  White privilege is what it was called by people who studied it.  This whole dichotomy of entitlement and empowerment. He knew about the theories, those with power and all that. He also knew that they were one hundred percent true.  This had been part and parcel to his breakdown.
All his life he had told himself that he wasn’t a racist.  That deep down inside he wanted equal rights for all people.  But the world was the way that it was and nothing could change that.  Such a scapegoat that was created with that one thought.  Colan knew better, he made movies, he created and recreated the world everyday, every week every hour as a new person was exposed to what he was directly responsible for creating.  
The world is not the way that it was because it just was, it was the way the people in power created it to be.  Through all open forms of media, radio, television and film Americans are being told what to do, how to do it and most importantly who to do it too.  It wasn’t too long until books and magazines converted and now you even had to second guess what you read in the newspaper.  Then the internet came along and changed the face of the game.  There was information out there for those willing to look for it about the true face of things in the media and the world.

Colan realized that he had gotten lost in his thoughts but like a well trained automaton had dressed himself, drank his morning health shake and was firmly seated behind the wheel of his jaguar.

Coming June 2015

Friday, November 18, 2011

Prologue of Shuttered Vision from the Series Life Goes On


 She was surrounded by flowers.  They ranged in fragrance and hue.  Some were lilac, some daisies, lavender, roses, orchids, hyacinths.  It was the colors that captured one's attention.  Unlike any she'd ever seen.  They were vivid, vibrant shades of sun orange, amethyst purple, sapphire blue, ruby red with amazing emerald greens.  Some shown in multiple colors like red and green for bloodstones. Dark carnelian red, smoky iridescent quartz. She stared into her sky; it always looked like sunset with vivid blues and purples mixing with reds and oranges. Cloudy enough to make a lovely image, but never so cloudy that it seemed gloomy.

She inhaled deeply as she lay in the field of flowers understanding the message she was being given as the scent of white sage floated laced with the fragrance of the flowers. Eyes closed she pushed deeper into herself.  From her field she could determine all she needed to know.  She needed to find who was calling her, had been calling her for months now. But always lingered the thought, this one is a stranger and doesn't want to be found. She felt the pressure of a hand. It was larger than hers, firm and rough.  The breath on the back of her neck was steady and calm.  He lay right behind her, right under her, right beside her.  In this place he was practically a part of her.

She tried to turn around to face him, but was stopped. The sensation was odd for her, these things were always under her control.  No one got to make choices for her here yet here he was stopping her. She pressed harder and was met with more force. Abruptly she turned and the world pitched to black.  She was falling through her field.  The flower base being ripped away as her nose was assaulted by burning flesh.  Her eyes flew open and she saw the petals smoldering beside her as they all fell.  She looked down to see herself falling towards pits of lava, banked flaming mounds of earth and oceans of burning water sizzling away, salting the air with it's demise. Creatures colored with flame and smelt snapped their jaws at her ready to devour her.  Flame winged imps and demons swarmed above them taunting them with the kill they couldn't have whipping them into a frenzy.  Sea leviathans with several heads and tails swam freely in the burning oceans eating all that crossed their path. Stubby, stumpy moss covered beasts resembling jackals roamed the flaming mounds unheaded.  There was peril at every stop.

She threw her hands in front of her face to shield what was coming her way.  Then suddenly she stopped falling.  An arm secured her at the waist as strong arms pulled her around and she pressed her now tearstained cheeks to his neck.

"Who are you and why have you brought me here?" she asked.

"I'm sorry. You were never meant to be here. I like your field," a deep masculine voice replied.

"What hell are you from?"

"The worst kind, the one of my own making."

She vaguely noticed that they were moving upward.  And within moments she was as she was before on her back in her field his presence there but not intrusive.

"How did you get here?" she asked him knowing that if she tried to face him again she would be dumped into his hell.

"I don't know. I've been trying to figure it out.  But I'm selfish enough to not mind if it doesn't bother you."

"You need my help."

"I have all the help from you I need.  Right here in your field."

"It's more than that.  You don't understand what I am, what I do.  No one shows up here that I don't already know."

"I should go --"

"No wait --"

"See ya next time Flower girl."

 Fiona awoke from a dead sleep with the stranger's voice still clear in her head. She clutched her head and doubled over in her bed for a moment.  She straightened and with a deep sigh reached for her journal and started cataloging the points of her dream so that she could analyze it when morning came.  She lay back on her headrest when she was done shaken.  Who was that man haunting her dreams?  He had been there for months now.  And over the course of time his presence had gotten stronger as he felt more comfortable with her. 

At first it had been just a brief but untimely intrusion.  She hadn’t even really noticed anyone was there.  Almost like an itch that was easily scratched.  She had determined it was nothing and it became so.  A brief irritation she had swiftly evicted.  But somehow he had found other ways in and had made her sanctuary his safe haven. 

Fiona lay back down and sighed willing herself to go back to sleep.  Maybe by the light of a new day she would be able to make sense of this chaos.

Monday, May 2, 2011

Perspective Bluff: The Leading Lady

I am a bit of a sociology buff.  It's one of those social sciences that I feel very connected to mostly because it's the study of society which is a construct made by us.  People.  So I read lots of sociology blogs and textbooks because I find the study of us rather fascinating.  Recently I've decided to embark on another odyssey besides romance novels.  I also would like to write self-help books for those members of society that would like to free themselves from the constraints of society which would benefit everyone overall.  My self help series will be about women and some of the common perception traps we often find ourselves in.  So here is a little sample of what I would like to confront.  We'll call this segment the leading lady.

A couple of weeks ago I was watching this romantic comedy called Just Wright starring Queen Latifah and Common.  Most days of the week you'll catch me watching some action or super hero movie.  It's just what I prefer.  There was nothing else on, and the part of the movie I chimed in on intrigued me because I've always felt like no one has ever dealt with this aspect of female socialization.  The aspect I'm talking about is the 'professional athlete wife’.  This movie confronted the common perception issues most people have with this designation of society.  It is a one sided account so while it was not very flattering to the image of the professional athlete wife it did show some deeper thought and intelligence directed towards the professional athlete.

The character development for the movie was pretty standardized. If you picture in your mind what the wife of a professional athlete should look like she is usually of a certain weight, height, hair color or texture and sometimes a certain ethnicity. She is what Hollywood would refer to as 'The Leading Lady’.  The leading lady is a concept that leads into certain beliefs about a woman and her worth in the world. Through her portrayal in the media the average person begins to believe that only certain types of women deserve to be treated well. A man should only fall in love with a specific type of woman. She should have certain types of friends, and participate in certain activities.  She should always dress a certain way, and she should always be perceived as the height of feminine beauty.  The Venus Di Milo if we are being specific. The movie has this fascinating scene during a game where the two female characters that will ultimately vie for the attention of the male lead are facing the wives of the athletes.  It was this stark cookie cutter scene where there were rows of women who physically looked nearly identical.

The brilliance of this movie was that the actual leading lady was Queen Latifah who by all standards has never fit into the so called 'leading lady' role.  At several times during the movie I myself questioned why she was cast as she was.  The story itself was a paradox as I found myself thinking about how implausible it would be for a professional athlete to even consider a relationship with someone who didn’t fit the standard. This even slight wondering on my part was quite an epiphany for me because I usually don't prescribe to these pre-conceived notions.  Then I had to acknowledge how invasive and brainwashing media can be.  Even though I knew that this was not such an odd occurrence and should in fact be seen more and not less, something niggled at me saying that this woman wasn't the woman that belonged in this situation.  She didn't have the right qualities to be loved by this type of man, and she shouldn’t be the focal point of this movie.  This was all based on her physical appearance alone as the movie was full of women that did fit that very narrow ‘leading lady’ designation.  But it was that setting that made the absurdity of it my thoughts so apparent.

What it made me realize is how victimized American culture is by the mandates prescribed by our media.  Women hate themselves for not being what media tells them to be, and men actively support it.  However this point is in all respects. While it seems that one end has it better than the other end, what is thought of an unconventionally attractive woman who endeavors to expound upon her beauty as opposed to a conventionally attractive one who attempts to hide it. This aspect of fitting in becomes a value system for self worth and societal standing.  The rating system wants to know how well you fit in, and the system is set up to punish those who do not conform. Consider what happens to an Amish who falls into prideful ways.  In many respects society seeks to do this to those who don’t conform, thus the many societal subcultures.

The irony of this was presented so very clearly in the movie as the standard ‘pro athlete woman’ was in fact a gold digger who didn't care about the man or the sport he played.  She cared about the status symbol he would become in her life and the exalted status that she would enjoy as his wife.  While this is an unfair assumption to place onto most of these women, how many of them have carefully cultivated that look so that this goal can be achieved? It was the believability of it that was the most startling as women do sometimes see each other as either a scheming gold digger or not. We limit what the other is capable of because of it. But in regards to the professional male athlete isn’t this type of wife a statement of the same value system? Even though the female lead actually had more in common with the male lead, when faced with a conversation with each of them he chooses the gold digger instinctively understanding that this was the proper woman to be with thus solidifying his place in the system. This is how he fits in and thus reaffirms his self worth.

The key to society working is the understanding of each other and the value inherit to certain aspects of humanity.  The world is growing more caustic by the day towards ideas of true charity and service because of establishing ideas of glamour and excess. Instead of correlating societal value to service, dignity, compassion, empathy and care, value is given to avarice, vainglory, and idolatry. The system is in place, and it is not a faulty system.  However the accepted qualities and designations of fitting in desperately need to be reworked.