●●● m0n CH3r Baudelaire___________Les FLEURS du maL
«-----------Hypocrite Lecteur... mon semblable…mon frere-----------»
Tonight while waiting for something interesting to happen, I turned to my small library of favorite books and pulled out of my favorite ones geared toward the black woman. Now anyone that knows me knows that I am not---lets see---I'm not stuck on black people's oppressions or pity or power and such. I believe that each person must make their way and press forward as they need to. The times of the harsh oppresion are over and now is the time for individuals to step up and make their individual change.
This leads fellow african american people to say that I am black colored but not black minded....in response I say many things but namely, "I am myself full of power and strength granted from on High. Letting the color of the skin and the mentality of the skinned be your judger is foolish, and I am not a fool."
Anyway back to what I actually wanted to state....I love Zora Neale Hurston and her work especially, "Their eyes were watching God," a novel filled with so many beautiful illustrations, truth and to the point illusions, abundance of meaningful motifs and dialouge that puts the reader right in the American 1930s. Its a story about a young black woman (who is a little interraced) and her journey to discovering life and pressing forward in it despite the persuasion of others, the confusion, the inequity and the pain.
I will share the first part of it and maybe those readers out there will read it too.
"Ships at a distance have every man's wish on board. For some they come in with the tide. For others they sail forever on the horizon, never out of sight, never landing until the Watcher turns his eyes away in resignation, his dreams mocked to death by time. That is the life of men. Now, women forget all those things they don't want to remember and remember everything they dont want to forget. The dream is the truth. Then hey act and do things accordingly. "Then another beautiful line...
"Here was peace. She pulled in her horizon like a great fish net. Pulled it from around the waist of the world and drawped it over her shoulder. So much of life in it's meshes! She called in her soul to come and see."Oh I think its beautiful....."how much life" we can gather in the nets we throw out on our horizon of hope. And as we draw the net in some things fight their way out from between the ropes and maybe even tatter or nets and we loose and mis opprotunites. Sometimes forever--sometimes only to gather them up again. My bowels are moved at the thought--and I yearn to see what I can gather up--and what I will loose. Imagine if you will a fish breaking away from the nets jumping back in the sea only to be caught up by a pelican. There! That is something in life i had almost pulled in--but I lost it. How many of those have I lost. What are those? Experiences, emotions, people, love, hate, joy...life.
Her book does for you, what a great work of art will--evoke emotions and feelings that come only once in a while. You experience a sense of euphoria, deep mourning or even lust that you wouldn't experience from anyother medium. Words! Words! Words! How the heart and the mind use and abuse them. How I love the sight of words!
Ainsi qu'un débauché pauvre qui baise et mange Le sein martyrisé d'une antique catin, Nous volons au passage un plaisir clandestin
Que nous pressons bien fort comme une vieille orange.___________________ croy@nt p@r d3 vils pl3urs l@ver tout3s nos t@ch3s…
Believing we will wash away all our spots with our vile tears... ( Au Lecteur. )
