I've got more Bowie. Can you understand how this makes me terribly happy? I am terribly terribly terribly happy. Did you know David Bowie has taken a turn at being a mime? Oh, oui, vraiment. I nod my head at you very affirmatively. Alors, this completely blends in with my new found obsessions of the time being. Amazing how this all happens. You pick up a piece here and there and the next thing you have a well-rounded, cross-referenced index of fascinations. Mimes, face paint, old rock stars, matte black walls.
Consequently, my application to France is almost in the bag. Yes, I'm determined to move there despite the Frenchie from the lab who tells me I have twisted logic. I try to arrête (it rhymes with stop) myself from devising lists of things to bring, not bring, give away, and purchase. After all it's not official, it's only a chance. A chance in a rag of many colors.
I'm having a harder time this year of not hoping. It's not like when I applied myself to the film programmo. I had a million plots all of them centering on rejection. I did not ever think of this future (the one I'm currently living out), the beautiful futurish dream of being admitted to this program. In fact they centered around being rejected a second time. Because that's all the chance I had at this uni: two. And neverthemore, the slots were shot last April, and as you might have figured or heard me screaming, Luck was a lady and came as an email and letter blessing me with my dream come true. I screamed, I cried, and jumped with hugs on anyone I saw. (Yes, ma cousine, Beef seems to be crying a lot lately, but only in the best of ways.)
(I hesitate with this last section because I'm not finding words to fit together.)
And so this exponentially led to moi qui sat in the Great's class this afternoon for discussions of religion brought into cinema and theatre. I have one thing I want to say. I'm increasingly drawn to people (What?! Oui! Despite all claims of hermitism). And I increasingly find I can't draw limits to their validities and spirit. What I mean to say is this: the more I live the more I'm finding God in all people. Because God to me is a heavenly person and also all that is good. Please don't stand off at the limitations of my linguistics. I want to tell you that I don't know how to dismiss the sins of others as sins, I don't know how to plug my ears at their swears anymore and I can't close my eyes at drawers full of unsent letters because I feel like there could be a valid cry sometimes.
Yes. I have a tendency for a bleeding heart.
It's my brandy alexander*.
*inspired by a Feist song, Brandy Alexander
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