Seductive Sunday

Originally posted 6/29/2011 on another site

I needed to get some bad energy expelled in my previous, petulant and perfectly pedestrian blog. Ugh! I was ready to shake my own bratty self silly. There are so many pleasures to be had in life: yet I wallowed like a dog in the meat locker of Lady Gaga's seamstress. This morning I resisted the urge to revise: its part of my attempt to be ‘authentic', as horrifically authentic as that may be.

In the light of a new day and having cleared my mental trash bin, I got some clarity. That's why I blog. Speaking of which, I'm in the process of setting up an all access blog on Blogger. Stay tuned. Now, I don't necessarily go ‘A-ha!' with insight but when the proverbial light bulb of self-realization comes on, it's quite rewarding. 

Sunday's LOS ANGELES TIMES book section had a review of La Seduction: How the French Play at Life by Elaine Sciolino. Like many Americans, my ancestors were English, Welsh, Irish and German but it's the French that bubbles to my surface. And as the title character in Moliere's Dom Juan ou le Festin de la pierre states, more or less « Once you are the master...the joy of passionate pursuit is over."  

What a revelation that was. Hey, a high score on a Stanford-Binet test does not translate into common sense. It makes crystal clear that while I'm flattered at the number of bottoms who hand over the reins of control within oh...33 seconds after meeting me, I don't find that as interesting as a handsome bastard who doesn't fall head over heels by at least the second flute of Veuve Clicquot. 

Perhaps in some way, my journey helps you avoid the walls I tend to walk right into. And having said that: I'm off to the hunt. Au revoir.