Tag Archives: Honesty

Black, White, and Bowie

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Recently I decided to color my hair in black and white stripes.

 

Then David Bowie died.

 

That tall, lithe, ballerina-bodied man full of stardust. Sometimes carrot-haired; sometimes blonde. Always exploring his inner cast of characters. Always the man hiding inside the costumes. The eternal story of a misfit unfolding.

He once said that being human was boring. He wanted to be superhuman.

And normally I might flinch at such a statement. Think it arrogant. Cast off the speaker as megalomaniac.

But Bowie had the redemption of honesty. He went on to say that he found his passion repulsive. That ego-drive repelled him as much as it drove him.

And I loved that.

He had balance. He had the fearlessness to self-probe with a scalpel. He had the generosity of spirit to share his shadows with us all.

The stage was his confessional.

So, when I masquerade in my own wardrobe of lies, I’m comforted by recalling his guts to globally expose quirks, deceits, contradictions .  .  . and transform them into compelling art.

Even his death was a provocative work of art.

He’s left me pondering: Who will face the armoire, open the door on the right, and raise the alabaster-bodied Lazarus from the dead?

For me, though, he didn’t die but in body – wrapped in gauze with buttoned eyeballs. Just his soul-smoke oozed out into orbit.

And I smile at this thought every time I glance in the mirror and see my awning-striped hair. 

 

A beatific grin of joy warms my heart. It’s the perfect way to celebrate my personal, and far more private, life as a misfit.

It consoles. It gives assurance that I’ll always have this one gloriously galactic companion as I gaze into the deep; into my own strange.

 

 

 

 

This fellow soul of the black-sheep flock.

 

Namaste Mr. Bowie.

 

 

 

The Grind

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Mocha Muse has its very own newspaper, The Grind. It may contain a quote, a poem, song lyrics, snippets of overheard conversation or fascinating facts about creativity/life. So, leather sofa in Home Interiorsnuggle into the sofa, unfold the paper and reach for your morning cup of coffee. 

Cigarette Pack - Write.No.Smoke.

.  .  . bedbugs, and garlic and [false religion] .  .  . Smoking stupefies a man, and makes him incapable of thinking or writing.”

The wisdom of a great writer. The words of the brilliant man who authored Faust: Goethe.   Newspaper (7-13-2015) Goethe's Least Favorite Things

I think he says it all .  .  . no smoke; just aromatic coffee to stimulate our literary language!

I don’t know about you, but, I kind of like a gentleman who speaks his mind clearly. Honesty can be pretty darn sexy.

The Grind

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Mocha Muse has its very own newspaper, The Grind. It may contain a quote, a poem, song lyrics, snippets of overheard conversation or fascinating facts about creativity/life. So, leather sofa in Home Interiorsnuggle into the sofa, unfold the paper and reach for your morning cup of coffee.

Here’s the fourteenth issue. . . just click on newspaper to enlarge, then continue to click until text is readable for you!

The Grind (7-6-2015) Write. Good. Art.

*Source: Neil Gaiman

I love gutsy writing, no matter how meek or quiet the tone may be. As long as it’s written in truth .  .  . it’s written from the gut.

My challenge: To tattoo every page with honesty, no matter how wobbly the imagery. To just keep marching forward with each letter, building it into a word, a sentence, a grammar of personal gospel.