Dear friends,
Warning, it's a long one.
Muses have been on my mind. Probably because I"ve decided to write again. I wish I knew which muse pushed me off the cliff. That's the thing about muses, there's more than one.
There are many muses you know. They have different specialities, poetry, dancing, painting, or just getting out of bed and taking a shower. There is also more than one muse for each category.
Some actively seek out people in need and eager to help, others who've been around the block a time or two, or three or four, sit up in trees smoking a cigarettes waiting to be asked, or daring the asker to present a worthy story that excites them enough to go to work.
You may call them angels, God, or something celestial, but not all muses are ethereal.
Warning, it's a long one.
Muses have been on my mind. Probably because I"ve decided to write again. I wish I knew which muse pushed me off the cliff. That's the thing about muses, there's more than one.
There are many muses you know. They have different specialities, poetry, dancing, painting, or just getting out of bed and taking a shower. There is also more than one muse for each category.
Some actively seek out people in need and eager to help, others who've been around the block a time or two, or three or four, sit up in trees smoking a cigarettes waiting to be asked, or daring the asker to present a worthy story that excites them enough to go to work.
You may call them angels, God, or something celestial, but not all muses are ethereal.
Some of the best ones are human. They don't even know it, or perhaps they do. Who knows? That's why if you are feeling unenthusiastic, down, or just plain uninspired pay attention to everything. I promise it works.
There's a website called Unsplash and Pexels that I really love visiting. It's where I get most photos. I have an album titled interesting people. I have over 200 pictures in it. I can spend hours thinking of these people and what their stories are.
I'm fussy though. I don't like the model-y type photos but something that has that special oomph. Collectively they are all my muses.
I'm at a place where I want to tell tories, but I don't have it in me to be formal about it. I don't want to edit, and work and work and research. I want to tell and not show. So, I will. Perhaps, I will get back to that one day. But, I don't care if I do.
No, that's not accurate, I care, but I am content with whatever direction the muses take me. So, now I'm going to tell you a little story.
There's a website called Unsplash and Pexels that I really love visiting. It's where I get most photos. I have an album titled interesting people. I have over 200 pictures in it. I can spend hours thinking of these people and what their stories are.
I'm fussy though. I don't like the model-y type photos but something that has that special oomph. Collectively they are all my muses.
I'm at a place where I want to tell tories, but I don't have it in me to be formal about it. I don't want to edit, and work and work and research. I want to tell and not show. So, I will. Perhaps, I will get back to that one day. But, I don't care if I do.
No, that's not accurate, I care, but I am content with whatever direction the muses take me. So, now I'm going to tell you a little story.
This is the story of Clytie and Apollo. Not the mythological story, (click here for that legend but come back please), but the human one. Not Chlymadia either. Bwahahahaha
That's Clytie, an avid cosplayer. She's infamous at the conventions for her wonderful rendition of whatever character she portrays. In fact, if you want to know the truth, she's absorbed by it. Fantasy and reality are blurred.
I'm not sure what happened to her. Perhaps one day she will confide in me. In the meantime, I can tell you how she became a muse.
A carnival beauty from the Netherlands was on call and took a shine to Clytie.
That's Clytie, an avid cosplayer. She's infamous at the conventions for her wonderful rendition of whatever character she portrays. In fact, if you want to know the truth, she's absorbed by it. Fantasy and reality are blurred.
I'm not sure what happened to her. Perhaps one day she will confide in me. In the meantime, I can tell you how she became a muse.
A carnival beauty from the Netherlands was on call and took a shine to Clytie.
One spring morning after comic-con, Clytie took a walk around the town. She loved to explore the towns she visited when going to conventions.
The downtown was both beautiful and alarming. There were blocks of swanky hotels, then areas around the bus station where the homeless hung out. So many lost souls. It terrified her to walk by them and saddened her to see how humanity could end up.
It was too much for her to absorb this particular morning. She turned and went the other way.
Brigid alley appeared. It wasn't a seedy back alley where clandestine events happen, it wasn't a road either, it was the in-between. Of course she went down this path, because there's nothing more tantalizing than the in-between.
The Alley was surrounded by art galleries, coffee shops, and second hand stores. The alley presented the back doors of these establishments. The realness of the store shone through here, not the image or illusion they wanted to portray with their store front.
She was trying to persuade a feral cat with two tails to come out and let her pet it when she heard someone crying out. They were pleading and urging, to someone or some thing. She couldn't understand the words, so she creeped closer to the sound to see if she could hear or see who was in despair.
The downtown was both beautiful and alarming. There were blocks of swanky hotels, then areas around the bus station where the homeless hung out. So many lost souls. It terrified her to walk by them and saddened her to see how humanity could end up.
It was too much for her to absorb this particular morning. She turned and went the other way.
Brigid alley appeared. It wasn't a seedy back alley where clandestine events happen, it wasn't a road either, it was the in-between. Of course she went down this path, because there's nothing more tantalizing than the in-between.
The Alley was surrounded by art galleries, coffee shops, and second hand stores. The alley presented the back doors of these establishments. The realness of the store shone through here, not the image or illusion they wanted to portray with their store front.
She was trying to persuade a feral cat with two tails to come out and let her pet it when she heard someone crying out. They were pleading and urging, to someone or some thing. She couldn't understand the words, so she creeped closer to the sound to see if she could hear or see who was in despair.
Apollo stood in his outside studio looking to the sky. The artist's words were aching, yearning and begging, but she still couldn't understand what he was saying. His sadness touched her. The sight of him holding a paintbrush dripping blue paint branded her heart. She knew she had to help. But how?
She could only guess what was bothering him. Was he experiencing some kind of blocked creativity and couldn't paint? Art was not something she knew a whole lot about. What could she do? Then she remembered her ninth grade book report on Van Gogh and his sunflower series.
Van Gogh suffered severe depression. He wanted to be known as the painter of sunfl0wers. That's all she could remember. This gave her a fabulous idea.
Wink, wink to the Netherlands Goddess who blew inspirational kiss of creativity.
She could only guess what was bothering him. Was he experiencing some kind of blocked creativity and couldn't paint? Art was not something she knew a whole lot about. What could she do? Then she remembered her ninth grade book report on Van Gogh and his sunflower series.
Van Gogh suffered severe depression. He wanted to be known as the painter of sunfl0wers. That's all she could remember. This gave her a fabulous idea.
Wink, wink to the Netherlands Goddess who blew inspirational kiss of creativity.
This was her first cosplay to help a fellow human being. It was thrilling and allowed her to marry fantasy and reality.
She returned to his studio an hour later. Only this time she went through the front door. He looked up as the bell above the door announced her arrival.
He saw her through his blood shot eyes. They were tired from his crying episode. Something about her made him not care about his appearance. She was bright and sunny and held a bouquet of sunflowers.
Everything she planned on saying to get him to confide in her disappeared when she looked into his eyes. There was no way she was going to trick him, even if it was to help. All pretenses went out the window.
She held out the flowers for him to take saying nothing. He took them and buried his nose in them. Sunflowers don't have a scent. He breathed in her compassion and something in him lifted. How could she know that earlier he wanted to end his life?
She returned to his studio an hour later. Only this time she went through the front door. He looked up as the bell above the door announced her arrival.
He saw her through his blood shot eyes. They were tired from his crying episode. Something about her made him not care about his appearance. She was bright and sunny and held a bouquet of sunflowers.
Everything she planned on saying to get him to confide in her disappeared when she looked into his eyes. There was no way she was going to trick him, even if it was to help. All pretenses went out the window.
She held out the flowers for him to take saying nothing. He took them and buried his nose in them. Sunflowers don't have a scent. He breathed in her compassion and something in him lifted. How could she know that earlier he wanted to end his life?
Apollo and Clytie struck up a long distance friendship. She visited him often in his studio because he was painting at turbo speed. His paintings were remarkable, they didn't look rushed. He was focused and unwavering in his subject of Sunflowers.
One of the distinguished galleries in the state offered to host a show for him. There will be an elegant gala introducing his work to art collectors with deep pockets. He invited Clytie to join him.
The gala was intoxicating. Clytie was proud of Apollo. He glowed and exuded sunshine just like his flowers. He'll tell you, like the saying goes, you have to have a crack to let the light in. When he cracked everything shifted.
All of his paintings sold. At midnight he went up on stage and thanked everyone for coming. However, he told the guests there was one last painting to unveil. It was not for sale. It was his piece de resistance.
When the velvet blanket came off. The crowd gasped. I'm not sure if it was for the painting or for the artist. Apollo dropped down on one knee and opened a box revealing a canary tourmaline stone in the middle of diamond encrusted petals. The most dazzling sunflower you've ever laid eyes on. He looked at Clytie.
All of his paintings sold. At midnight he went up on stage and thanked everyone for coming. However, he told the guests there was one last painting to unveil. It was not for sale. It was his piece de resistance.
When the velvet blanket came off. The crowd gasped. I'm not sure if it was for the painting or for the artist. Apollo dropped down on one knee and opened a box revealing a canary tourmaline stone in the middle of diamond encrusted petals. The most dazzling sunflower you've ever laid eyes on. He looked at Clytie.
Clytie ran to him and jumped in his arms.
This was better than any fantasy she ever created.
As they say in only the best fairy tales, "They lived happily ever after......"
Till next time.
Love,
Kelly
This was better than any fantasy she ever created.
As they say in only the best fairy tales, "They lived happily ever after......"
Till next time.
Love,
Kelly