Category Archives: Photographs

Advice to You of Two Worlds

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chimneys on the rooftop of Gaudí's La Predera, Barcelona

That you are of two worlds, hurled from lunar atmospheres and solar frequencies, that I know.

That you are bursting with hope and hilarity, seizing in bear hugs all who float by, I know too. Also that you are sneaky, yes you are, leaking lies, striving to impress, beguiling the well-intentioned with intense and immense argumentations, sentences that fall into phrases, phrases into words, words into letters, letters into ugly smudgy blotches of ink.

Think before sinking into that morass, move fast, fly.

Don’t deny the demon – but you, who are of two worlds, must learn to unfurl your mauve boa with esprit, élan and go forth, sew, sow, and delight, claim your birthright, if you can, both birthrights, hobnail boots here, glass slippers there. Ride the wild mare of red night, all blue mane and glinting hooves into the buttery dream of day.

*****

This is another photo from my recent Barcelona trip: chimneys come alive on the rooftop of Gaudí’s La Predera. When I first saw them, the chimneys turned into guardsmen but in my photo they seem to have become more feminine.

Weekly Photo Challenge: transmogrify

 

Swan Girl

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2016

Berwick-upon-Tweed

Her hair was a disaster, matted, dull and tangled. But her fingernails were immaculate – long and smooth.

Her top was like a shroud, draping shapelessly over her shoulders. But her skirt was as glorious and brilliant as a wedding gown.

On her left foot a worn running shoe with scarcely any of the sole remaining, on the right a Continue reading →

Those Kind of Feet

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Gabrielle by Mathieu Isabelle, Place Ville Marie, Montréal, 2013These shoes are gorgeous, I say to him, but they are awfully big. Why would anyone make such huge shoes?

They were made for a big girl, the old guy says. Or rather, for a girl with big feet.

When I say girl, he says, I mean young woman. Beautiful, she was. But I had no shoes to fit her. She was so disappointed. She loved a pair of red shoes I had, and some green sandals  – like those over there – with little tassels. But they were both way too small.

I imagine she was a blonde, I say to him. She’d have to be. To go with those shoes. Or did she have long black hair? And I bet she was dressed in one of those pencil skirts. You know, with a slit up the side.

I don’t know about that, he says. I only noticed her feet. You should have seen those feet walk. No tripping or stumbling for them. I’ve never seen feet walk so steadily, so firmly. They were the kind of feet Continue reading →

Walking Down Walls

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Invisible Theater, Bristol

Looking up, he saw the girl half-open a window on the sixth floor, squeeze through it and walk down the wall to the street.

“The party was a bust,” she explained.

Her voice was flat, thin, a little nasal. He wondered if that was caused by her having walked down the wall. Resistance to gravity must surely have an effect on the nasal passages. She was extraordinarily pale under the streetlights.

“Do you need special shoes to do that?” he asked.

“Do what?” She walked with an easy stride that seemed to cover inordinate Continue reading →

Cat of Malice

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Alice snatched Mr. Sporratt’s cat when he went inside his house to fetch the clippers to trim his prize rose bush.

She was surprised at herself.IMG_4631

She knew she hated Mr. Sporratt’s cat, the way it sat on the wall staring at her, flicking its tail from side to side. She felt in her bones it was a cat of pure malice.

But there had been no plan to snatch the cat, no premeditation.

The problem was, now that she had Mr. Sporratt’s cat, what was she to do with it?

And why was it not trying to escape? Why was it Continue reading →

No.6 – House of Ghosts

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Door of number 6My house – number 6 – is a house of ghosts.

I know because when I turn around the old lady is standing there, right behind me.

“This is my house now.” I tell her firmly. “It’s time for you to go.”

I don’t want to be unkind but it’s very disconcerting to have someone, however insubstantial, wafting around, appearing when you least expect or want it. In the kitchen, when I’m experimenting with a complicated new recipe. In the bathtub, soaking in the fragrant foam. Changing a light bulb, teetering at the top of the stepladder, the little screws between my teeth, about to drop the glass cover.

Sometimes her husband comes with her. I assume he’s her husband. He’s a little more wizened, a little more stooped than her. He stays behind her, his shadowy body averted as though he’s embarrassed to be inconveniencing me like this. He’s showing me by his stance that he’s apologizing for this intrusion. I feel he wants me to know that she’s doing this against his advice, that it’s not his idea.

At least he has boundaries. He never appears when I’m in the bath. That really would be the limit. And he never appears alone. I suspect he is Continue reading →

The Bundle of Spare Dreams

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She has so many dreams. Far too many.

Surely she could spare a few for those less fortunate, who don’t have any at all?

This one she doesn’t need any more, the one about becoming a famous film star (with her teeth? stupid, stupid).

Nor this one about becoming a concert pianist (almost…no, nowhere near).

As for the dream about losing fifty pounds in four weeks, that dream has hardly been used. It’s as good as new. Someone could Continue reading →

See Those Scars?

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Mother Earth, Montreal Botanical Gardens, 2013

See those scars?

One slicing across Mother Earth’s forehead just above the eyebrows, the other across her cheeks.

Another mine blasted open, another drill driven deep.

*****

There’s no spare planet earth

*****

Thank you for dropping by to read this week’s Blurt. It was inspired by the Daily Post Weekly Photo Challenge: Spare.

Please note: all material on this website, except for comments by others, is © Susi Lovell.

The Ecstasy of Jubilation Theory!

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Hi! I’m Julie, Jubilation Facilitator, level 5, and I’m on breakfast duty right now, waiting for Mr. Joneses to come down.

I love being on breakfast duty.

“Where’s our ju-ju-jubilant face this morning?” I sing out as Mr. Joneses comes down the stairs.

He grabs his head in both hands and sags at the knees. I’m not discouraged. I’ve seen it before. That’s exactly what The Ecstasy of Jubilation Center (the Jube-Cube as we insiders call it) is here for.

“Remember Theory Number 3?” I take his elbow and allow a note of Continue reading →

Witch’s Chair

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Cernunnos, Mosaïcultures Internationales, Montreal Botanical Gardens, 2013That Cedric and his horned serpents!

But then he’s always been an odd one. Those eyes! One green, one white!

Is it true that means he’s a witch? Or half-witch, seeing as only one eye is white.

The girls go mad for him. I don’t understand it. He’s nothing but an uneducated lout who likes playing in the dirt.

And that punk hair! The stupid hat!

Those serpents drive me crazy. Why couldn’t he have rabbits or guinea pigs like any normal person? I have to call him twenty-five times a day to come and get them out of my vegetable garden.

You wouldn’t believe how arrogant he is, the way he struts about town as if everyone has nothing better to do than look at him. Well, he’ll find out soon enough he won’t always be a pretty face (if you’re the sort of person who thinks that kind of tough watch-me-climb-out-of-the-earth face is pretty).

The chief of police is insisting Cedric undergo the witch test.

Cedric says Continue reading →