Beautiful People

The electricity having gone out, the entire neighborhood is awash in darkness as the snow comes down turning everything to a thick blanket of white. Off in the distance, firetruck sirens are screaming which at the very least suggests that some part of the disturbance is being addressed. After lighting a half dozen candles, I pour another glass of white as I have already decided I’m done for the night and continue skimming through a collection of old photographs of Kate Moss. Tanned and toned and thin as a rail with wide, wild glittering eyes, she is smoking a cigarette while strolling through a grand marble hotel lobby somewhere in Europe. So young back then, impossibly exotic in her black eyeliner and nude silk spaghetti strap cocktail dress. I remember being a young thing and obsessed with her seemingly effortless combination of disheveled poise. Gloss and glamour and grit in random measure. She wasn’t everyone’s taste of course, but as for me I fell for all of it. I was scrawny but she made me feel good about it even when some ignorant adult would tell me to eat something, you look sick and in my head I was telling them to properly fuck off. There is something intoxicating about watching a beautiful creature even from a distance, even when time has erased what was once reality. I light a cigarette and a few more candles and stand to look out across the street, still dark as pitch, and quiet save for the frosty droplets splattering against the windowsill. My phone lights up with a message from a friend I’ve not heard from in quite some time. I used to think that he thought we maybe could have been a thing but it was never right or wrong enough to really make a move. Now we text in quiet moments when one of us needs to feel seen and heard, just for a little while, before again passing off into the ether. You would be surprised how that feeling sneaks up on you. It isn’t loneliness but it isn’t without a little bit of fear, either. Fear of the emptiness in the abyss which is a life not anchored to fulfilling other people’s expectations. He once described the way my writing made him feel and to be told of the affect my words could have was an aphrodisiac I hadn’t seen coming. Perhaps that is arrogance, perhaps that is humility, who’s to say. Writers are strange people, we give and we take all in the same keystroke. We create and we destroy and we don’t look back on any of it. What was it Ms. Moss used to say? Don’t complain, don’t explain. I do try not to complain and it has been years since I felt the need to explain myself to anyone. Life is too short and no one knows what they are doing for the most part in any case. We are transient, unpredictable things. Untethered. I text him back something which borders on flirting, but the truth is I’m just bored.

2 Replies to “Beautiful People”

  1. Beautiful wordmithery once again. It stayed with me, lurking in the background, a stowaway inside my soul, all day yesterday. As I was waking up this morning it jumped out again, alive and kicking, and then proceeded to drag out piece of the past long forgotten…
    “Eat something, you look sick…” No one ever said that to me. Instead they said: “Maybe skip a day or a few of eating or else you’ll burst…” I struggled with my weight for a long time – childhood, teens, early adulthood… A human yoyo of a sort. Going from fat to obese and then slimmed down to fat and then back to obese. A vicious circle. It wasn’t until having an awaking via working in a mental asylum for a few months that I finally broke the cycle that resulted in a healthier lifestyle (with occasional “season” of derailment though it’s never as dramatic that it used to be). I better get back to my point I digress deeper into the chaos that is my life). You look(ed) up to Kate Moss. I look(ed) up to fat comedians because I saw a way out of self loathing that was gradually consuming me… Of course being funny is not easy at all. I found that out the hard way. Still do. 😉
    My point? I guess it’s interesting to see who we look up to from early age on. In a way we seek something that would validate our state of being. Not that we need validation (most of the time my reaction to other’s unsolicited opinions about my life is a quick burst of colorful profanities… not always though – that is when depression, my old, friend, pays a visit…). Nevertheless we seem to seek validation. OK, at least I do. I’d hate to assume that for anyone else.
    I hope some of this made sense…

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, this makes sense to me. Humans are judgey creatures and I think we all seek validation as much we don’t like to admit it, it’s just sort of human nature. And when you stand out for reasons people don’t approve of or are uncomfortable with, it can really piss you off and at the same time cause you to move inward, or away. Also, comedy is a very difficult (and brave) art! I agree 100%. And I’m glad to hear you had a break through. 🙂 We are all trying to find a way through the muck I suppose…

      Liked by 1 person

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