I just don't know what to do with myself.

My lady has split town.... It's killing me.

I don't know what elese to say about that. The visit was great, and I hope for nothing more than her return. I need to take my mind off of it while I sit in my favorite coffeeshop and house espressoes. I've been eating books. This week alone, it has been Alice in Wonderland, Tales of Unease by Arthur Conan Doyle, Mere Christianity by C.S. Lewis, Waiting for Godot, and the Oedipus trilogy... I think they call it the Orestiae.
Let's cover Alice for awhile. How can something so heartfelt and whimsical be so deeply rooted in the agony of the Muse? Check this shit out.

Edward Mordrake: “An even more grotesque and tragic case was Edward Mordake, a remarkably handsome young man who was gifted as a musician and a scholar. In addition, he was heir to a peerage. One would think that Edward have everything going for him and so he did--with one exception. On the back of his head he had the head of another face. It was said to be that of a girl. The head was functional, though it could not eat or speak. The eyes moved and followed the motions of anyone in the room. The head could also laugh and cry. Edward became obsessed with his "devil twin," as he called it. He demanded that it be removed even if the operation killed him, but no doctor would undertake the delicate surgery involved. At last, Edward shut himself up in a suite of rooms, refusing to see anyone. He claimed that at night the face would whisper awful things to him in his sleep, "such things as they only speak of in hell." Unable to stand the strain, he killed himself at age twenty-three.”

This outside of the fact that Edward is the first name of one Mr. Hyde. I'm torn about seeing the love that Charles Dodgson had for Alice Liddell as being pure, for lack of a better word. How many pictures of topless underage girls do you have to see before you suspect the photographer? I don't care if he's victorian and a Maths genius. Part of me wants to believe in that thirst for a muse and the relief of the agonizing burden of seperateness required by genius. Part of me worries that I am deifing a pervert, or, at least, feeling sympathetic, or, gross, empathetic. It's a good musical piece, regardless...



What else has been afloat in my brainpan? Not Fucking Much... Let's see what I can dig up for my kiddies... KJP and I went to see a Jan Saudek exhibit in the square. It was alright. His images didn't thrill me, but technically I was blown away. That guy could absolutely rock a gum print, but I still like Tieri's stuff more. SHe's a Photo Buddy from way back.

I don't know... I just can't get it together since KJP left. I hit my head and fall down. I drink too much coffee and smoke too many cigarettes. I eat Hershey's kisses in bed when it's dark. It's a drag. More tomorrow.