...ramblings of a fashionable sociopath

Saturday, December 31, 2011

Bonne année et bonne santé

I hope you are spending it with someone you love...whether it's a quiet night or a night barely remembered in the morning, may it mark the beginning of a year filled with happiness, adventure and lots of surprises.

I am off to Vegas to welcome New Year with my love. Let the red champagne flow...

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Perfectly content to be permanently broken

Interesting thought isn't it? Alas this is not mine.
Not stated to elicit pity or condolences, nor to invite comparisons. Just a statement of a truth that once was mine.

Brief moment of truth? Your worst boyfriend? I dated him. For reasons that would require this blog to become the Volumes I, II, and III of Bella's life we shall not go into this in detail. Let's just say that short of being physically abused I have experienced every possible low one can experience in a relationship.

                                        Does that leave a mark? I'm sure. But it DOES NOT preclude happiness. 

When I grew up ( to the extent that merits people calling you "ma'am" and getting a job where maturity makes a differences between life and death) I had resolved myself to living alone. I knew I would continue to have relationships...have many friends in my life...perhaps even a child.. No, definitely a child. But I would never have someone who truly loved me. I would never seek shelter in the arms of a man who loved me. I would never have someone to pick up the pieces when my world crashed down. There would never be a wedding.

To reiterate, I am not telling you this to elicit pity or empathy, just my thoughts at the time.
I never thought my life would be particularly empty or somehow unfulfilled if I never became part of a couple. (i'm not trying to sound like a traitor to my gen...boys make life better, blah blah blah...not true in the least! But this one does and this is MY story so deal with it.)

Happiness is a funny thing isn't it? For someone not used to experiencing true happiness...(oh God i am actually using this word) creeps in quietly. Slowly. It sort of buffers every day to be a little softer. A little less gut wrenching or devastating. Because when you come home happiness is waiting. With a glass of wine, that handsome smile and arms that could make the world stop spinning, it is waiting.

For one disillusioned with love to find that a man can love completely and utterly as deeply as you is shocking. To love you how you have only read in books...not with grand gestures (though they are there) but with those little every day moments that let you know that EVERY SINGLE SECOND someone loves you.
                                          They love every broken and not broken piece of you. They NOTICE every detail of you that even you may not have thought was special. They fight for you until their last breath and when you hurt they hurt as much as you.
                And oh my goodness how his kisses take my breath away every time! Hell, even the way he looks at me across a room...time stands still when he looks at me like that.
That is a love not distance or time can touch.

And even if...although NOT if because I would not live in that world...if that love would end I would always know that I was loved by a man. Story book/amazeballs/perfectly loved, by a real man.

This year has wreaked havoc on me in many ways..but the memories of past pain and shock is dimming. The only thing that remains is that this year i met Him..that alone is all worth it.


Friday, December 23, 2011

A White Christmas

Have you ever seen this movie? I was introduced to it on my first Christmas in US. Although many many movies about the subject have been made since, none quite captures the magic of this season like the songs from this movie. Bing Crosby's voice, velvety soft and deep, singing as if only to you. Wishing YOU a White Christmas. Why don;t they make stars like that anymore???

And the finale? dear GOD I would of actually stabbed someone for those red pointe shoes and tutu when I was a kid. (kidding? )

This movie is glorious. The song is truly beautiful...enjoy.
Whether you are religious or not, I hope this holiday season brings you a little more happiness, close to those who matter.

Monday, December 19, 2011

La Belle Mort

A day in Paris #1:

This is Cimetiere du Pere Lachaise. The resting place of many great authors, poets, composers, artists...and one of my favorite places in the world. It is filled with giant oaks and incredible sculptures. Around every turn is a quiet secret left only for you. The whispers of those long gone can still be heard. Their memories felt as if they were still near.  It is quiet...peaceful...poignant.
You may think it morbid of me to love a cemetery. People often wonder why some of us are drawn to places of final rest for others. I cannot speak for others but for me this is not a fascination with death. It is an affirmation of life.

Seeing the tombs of the people that created history, that wrote the books that made me, that created the music that shaped my memories...brings them closer. Makes them human. Honors them.

It is very difficult to have a beautiful life (whatever your personal definition of that would be). It is almost impossible to have a beautiful death. Not many are lucky to be immortalized in a fiery plane crash or a crime of passion. Even fewer are able to take their life with dignity and grace. Most deaths are senseless, unfair...they degrade the life they take by their commonality.

Perhaps that is why suicide clubs were so popular in early 19th century England. Populated by young men and women who gathered each week to have fate select one of their own to take as death's bride/groom. The selected would then return home to compose their poetic masterpiece knowing that he would not live to see the sunrise. These poor souls, taken at the prime of their lives, forever young. Forever beautiful.

I'm listening to Chopin. His music survives centuries because it is perfection. It is so melancholy, so so truly sad. You can hear it at Pere Lachaise when the wind rustles the tree tops. Thinking about death is not is a way to re-evaluate one's own existence. To see what really matters. What contributions has one made to this life...what shall they remember when you're gone? Will they remember you at all?

Friday, December 16, 2011

Mi Pedro

I find it very sad that although the American film industry is capable of producing real talent yet often it is it's presence that overshadows it. I am speaking of foreign film stars/movies/directors. Too seldom they make a splash in our markets (see Amelie - that was 10 YEARS AGO!!) . Whatever they may lack in production budgets they certainly make-up for with the most amazingly innovative story lines and superb performances.

Having said that, I am crossing my fingers for "The Skin I Live In." It is the new baby of all time favorite director (Tarantino and Burton share the #2 spot).

Pedro Almodovar and I go way back. When I was a teen I saw "All about my mother." I cannot adequately describe what that movie did for me. Although it was certainly not life-changing it made a permanent mark on my heart. Those certain movies, you know which ones...those that stay with you long after they're over...those that make you feel and think and haunt your memories or bring you back to a time forgotten...this, "Cat on a Hot Tin Roof" and "Love Me if You Dare" ..... are it for me. The definitive. The perfection. The alpha and the omega.

It is so perfectly written that changing even a single word would be a crime. It is a delicately beautiful and darkly haunting movie and I love, LOVE, love every detail. Pedro's muse Penelope Cruz of course has a major role. For the sake of your soul, you should see it. Especially if you, like I, are close to your mother.

That movie was followed by this:

It's perfection, trust.
Every movie he makes...resonates with me as if he lets me discover a part of me I did not know existed. I have nothing in common with the protagonists in his films nor with this lovely, flamboyant Spanish director...but when I watch his films I FEEL them. I treasure and savor them like my personal stash of artistic goodness.
You will either love these films or hate them but I promise you won't feel indifferent.

It is not surprising that he is widely known throughout the world. He made stars out of Penelope and Antonio and his talent seems to be infinite. That is why I hope and pray that his latest movie finds it's audience and is allowed a wide release so that I can see it in this little town I am trapped in before it disappears into rental purgatory.

Wednesday, December 14, 2011

The most beautiful boy

Meet Andrej. Amazing isn't he?

He was born in Bosnia and lived with his family in a refugee camp before moving to Australia. He is quickly becoming the talk of the fashion world. He recently walked the runway for Jean Paul Gaultier for both male and female shows and has upcoming campaigns with Marc Jacobs, Den Hoven and many many others.

His photo spreads are impeccable, always amazingly stylish and certainly never boring. He is incredibly versatile -- his poses for women's lines are dramatically different from  his male campagnes.

I am sure some may find him controversial...inappropriate...a competition to the female models. But I see him as a glorious addition and a refreshing jolt to the stale faces the industry has shown the last few seasons. 

He is truly beautiful, in any gender, and I would rather admire his gazelle-like limbs and porcelain face than have couture be wasted on yet another man-faced anorexic pre-teen made up to look like the epitome of feminine mystique. 

And his photo shoot with Zombie Boy (another all time favorite)? PUH-LEAZE! Perfection elevated. 

Friday, December 2, 2011

Oh Canada

My first vacation of the year! Finally. After two weeks of nights, not eating or sleeping or having any real human contact I get to play with my love.
We begin by going to my home town...

ahhhh my heart. VEGAS. I love this city so much. Beyond the glitter, the balls out bright light amazing-ness of it all...lie the streets I grew up on...the corners and hide outs only true Vegas children know. Misses.

                                                I cannot wait to come live here again. To feel home again...

Niagara Falls. My only perception of them has been firmly established by this... (ps if you haven't you should. It is film noir magic)

But instead I am going to see this....

am excited. Cheesy or not, perhaps played out, but nevertheless terribly romantic. To be surrounded by massive walls of water while kissing madly should be fun.

Then off to Canada we go...Simcoe, Ontario and Toronto. Meeting his family, seeing where he grew up. The place that, in part, made him who he is today. My spanking new passport will get it's first stamp here. :)

It will be unreasonably freezing I'm sure. And I will feel like time has passed by too quickly again. But this is one of those trips where so many of "our moments" will happen...and time together will be spent laughing and loving each other's company. We've missed planes, had blown tires and bad luck..but we always end up laughing with each other, just happy to be together again.

No call nights or pagers, no early alarms, no "goodbye"s in the middle of the night. Happy kitten.


Friday, November 25, 2011


Do you ever have that moment when an image or a passing thought catches you off guard and brings back a memory...a thought of a time passed?

 I'm often surprised how amy image of Paris does this to me. I was there once (so far) but for those two weeks I was incredibly blissfully happy. I built this city up in my mind for so long that I was sure I would be disappointed. That nothing I ever could imagine would be true to life...but it was.

 It was different. Sometimes it was bitter cold and unwelcoming. Sometimes it would be so glorious that I could not imagine a place like this truly exists in this world. And the light...the PINK light that warmly envelops you...surrounds you like a visceral does it do that?

Why do I miss it so? Why do I love this city even though I have no true ties to it...why do I yearn to go back so much that it often brings back a tear? How is this city able to touch so many people from different backgrounds, with different pasts and make them fall in love with it again and again. It's just Paris after all. But it is JUST Paris. It will never be a cliche. It will never stop being amazing.

I know I will be back. I want to go back with him.
Paris should be seen with the man who will always love you.

" "La Vie en Rose" means seeing life through pink-colored glasses. And only in Paris, where the light is pink, that is possible."

Saturday, November 19, 2011

A kindred spirit

My favorite artist. What he creates is unreal...stunningly beautiful...mesmerizing. He once said these creatures were inspired by his time at Toronto Children's Cancer Hospital. He wanted to create children that were demented, strange and strong enough to chase away the nightmares of his little patients and protect them from their disease. (collective "awhhh").

Of course that doesn't quite explain images like this, does it?

"I live in a brick house with my wonderful wife Jane and a coyote called Bonnie. I like eating avocados and I don't mind being a dog." 

Ray Caesar

Sunday, November 13, 2011

A bittersweet kiss...

He leaves again...our separation is not for long...not compared to what others have to endure. We are very fortunate to be able to see each other this often and for such long periods of time. I would not give up our amazing weekends for anything. These little islands of happiness when every single moment is spent in absolute love with another being.

We do this well, I must say. We have always done this well. But even as time passes my sadness doesn't diminish. I try to silence that annoying little clock that starts ticking away as soon as he arrives.
                                                                                   Tick tock.

                                           Laugh, embrace, devour...
               listen to his breath slow down as he falls asleep holding you so tightly as if he thinks you will slip away...

Drink every moment in as if it is the last. Capture in your mind all those moments to hold you over until next time...
                                                                                        Tick tick tick tick...

     Departures are excruciating. UNBEARABLE. Suffocating because they are inevitable.
                         They are because of how incredible this love is. How deep, all encompassing and raw it is....worth every tear shed from longing.

This is temporary. It shall be that period of time which we'll remember fondly. Perhaps. And we are both strong and unwavering in our desire for this life together that I do not doubt we will make it. Not even for a second.

                We say goodbye and I come home to an empty bed with his smell on my pillow...and something in me dies a little.   I am an intelligent being capable of rationalizing anything. But once in a while...once in a while I stomp my feet and skulk and cry because...


Thursday, November 10, 2011


i like my body when it is with your    
       body. It is so quite a new thing.   
Muscles better and nerves more.    
  i like your body. i like what it does,    
       i like its hows. i like to feel the spine    
of your body and its bones, and the trembling   
  -firm-smooth ness and which i will    
       again and again and again    
                   kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,    
i like, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz    
    of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes    
over parting flesh . . . . 

And eyes big Love-crumbs,     
         and possibly i like the thrill    
   of under me you quite so new

ee cummings

He is here tomorrow. Happy kitten love face meow

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Once upon a time...

A long time ago I was a dancer. I danced as long as I remember and I became a professional at 16. It has been such an integral part of me...of how I defined myself that it's strange how easily I forgot it.
How easily I gave it up for my career...

Every once in a while...when I am all alone and sad, I put on my favorite music and I dance until i can't see from the tears streaming down my face.

I want to dance again. My body is young and I have no doubt it will remember it's former glory.
There is a studio in this little town I am confined to for the next 3 years...a place where the milonga happens each Saturday...My love shall come with me. We need to practice for our trip to Buenos Aires - the underground clubs we'll go to will accept no less...

I am happy he will come. I am curious to see how my past, the only private part of my life that he has not been privy to, will affect him.

 I shall not think about anything else except him...and the music.