Electra’s dictionary and film noir; of broken doves Part 2/the Muse revives the empty spirit (jmmusechron)

 

“I wish….” but I stop myself and lean against him, “sometimes I wish we could go back….”

“Back to where?” Jörn asks me

“….home….to where ….” and I take his hands which have gone to my shoulders massaging along the curve of my neck but I take them now and put them back onto the piano keys ….and yet I stop there and take both his hands and kiss the knuckles ….and then look at them to marvel over their unique characteristics I now know so well and know all they are capable of….their music and their artistry 

“We can….” he tells me, pulling aside my hair to kiss my neck some more and say into my ear, “I will be performing at the end of the month and I was going to invite you as a birthday present…. It is a special invitation only appearance at the Swedish opera house. You remember it. But it’s to attract investors for a friend of mine and —well, you are actually part of the attraction.”

“What do you mean?” I turn to look at him

“But—wait, I was going wait to tell you  as a surprise, now is not the moment. First, I want you to understand why it is important for you to remain here….”

“Why? Why can’t we just leave? I want to go—just go back to New York and to Ilya and the penthou—“

“Listen to me—look, I can take you for a visit but for now it is important you are here….”

I turn to look at him,

“Jörn….”

“Duva…..” he takes my face by the jaw into one hand and studies me with a look of apology and sympathy as he says, “yes this world is not what it was when first we met and—with Covid and the madness of war….which brings me to the point of why you must remain at Sunny’s because…. we now know his connections to the events of January 6 and some intel on things that show that there were conversations he was privy to involving the last presidency and Putin where —let’s just say Pandora’s box was opened and we are now living in what that has brought about….so this intel, we think….”

“You think what—there is some information hidden there? I doubt it, all his technology is antiquated!”

“He wants you to think that,” Jörn says simply and after a pause, like an after-thought, “and everyone else….because it is convenient to….”

“You are waiting for an opportunity to snoop around….”

“I want you to. I think there are things hidden somewhere on the property. It would not be mainstream technology. It would be some other method. And it would have valuable information.”

“Valuable?”

“Nuclear ….”

Electra’s dictionary and film noir; of broken doves (jmmusechron)

 

“I’ve realized that the things I once thought I wanted in life…. I don’t anymore….” 

I look up at him from the grand piano. He looks up from his phone and back at me from across the wide silo bedroom and holds my gaze for a long moment. 

He puts his phone on the Art Deco dresser and walks over to me slowly. The sunlight catches in the gold of his hair as he walks towards me. He wears a t-shirt with jeans that is a steel grayish blue, the color of his eyes in the light and the light seems to pass right through his irises with that vampire brilliance as though it lends a visual power. For a moment my thoughts are stunned to silence. 

He stares into me as he nears me and with his eyes still biting into mine, he lays his fingers on the piano keys and plays three notes in succession as he strikes three keys. Pauses. Then four….

what is it….? ….I know this one…. 

but his eyes keep me from thinking of anything 

“What do you want, my little dove?” he says this somberly as he nears me as he stares

“I ….don’t know….” I look away and cover my face and eyes with my hands and speak through the mask of my hands, “the world is such a different place ….now….”

I hear him move, hear the sound of the fabric of his jeans brush as he moves and then feel him sit next to me on the piano bench

With his attention focused on me now I struggle with my thoughts to focus them,

“I don’t like this world, Jörn….”and now I feel him press a kiss on the top of my head as he pulls me into his embrace 

He whispers,

“min lilla duva …. världen var alltid ful.  du väljer bara att inte se det….”

“What?” I ask him

But he pulls me across his lap and sets me to sit between his thighs and takes my fingers with his hands on both mine and lays them on the keys. But we don’t play. Instead, he bites my neck

“Tell me, min lilla duva…. what was it that you thought you once wanted?” but with each word he says, he goes from biting to kissing my neck and whispers into my ear, “tell me....”

“I wanted…. some idyllic ….foolish…. possibility…. that was once inspired ….by my historic ‘mentors’…. of the Arts…. but I should have realized ….that even ….Nike of Samothrace ….lost her head….” I turn to look up at him and stare into his eyes for something real to grasp, “but they are just memories left behind, aren’t they? Memories of their dreams that could not last….” 

Je suis juste épuisé. où est-ce qu'il y a une transfusion….?

de la vie. J'aimerais que tu sois ici. les cellules m'emprisonnent…. je sais que tu t'en rends compte. mais ou es tu?

Thoughts of mind

 

On the subject of disassociation, there has been much research and discussion; as a disorder but also the phenomenon. What it is —is an adaption; the self defense within the brain which is triggered by some shock

The brain and the mind are the most powerful forces of a human.

And so what of repressed memories? The mind has the power to keep its terrible secrets even from its own self

The brain emits electricity 

and it reacts to outside impressions 

Essentially, the brain is an energy source

The brain may be organic and temporal 

but the mind?

the consciousness ….? 

when I reflect upon dna memory …. to consider that it may be possible for a brain to pick up on an electrical signal emitted by another brain

is it not possible then to consider that the mind may tap into realms of the electrical energies that are absorbed into organisms and objects which are receptive by some porous ability ….? I suggest this  as a hint into ….things that I have been able to know without knowing how I know

Everything that ever was always is

It just transforms into another form

If our dna contains the fingerprints of its predecessors how is it not logical to suggest we sense their memories?

“I do,” the conversation/Departing Electra, in overdrive

 

“Not to state the obvious,” he says now, “I’m not trying to be obnoxious, I don’t mean to insult your intelligence but…. but what about sat-nav?”

“What-nav?”

“erhm— Google it, perhaps??? ….Google maps?”

“Oh, GPS? You mean like Waves or Mapquest? Well, yeah, they sort of have something like that for RV’s —because, you know, you can’t go on a lot of the same roads as regular cars in some places, you know—like parkways, or even some tolls,things that have low clearances— you know— and also, the general weight of the vehicle, not just the height, you know, just like semis ….you know, Mack trucks?” 

She realized she was talking much too fast. He was making her nervous. She had a tendency to keep babbling with a lot of excessive words when people made her self conscious. Was it because of how he was looking at her? Or was it because she was afraid of seeming like an idiot — or even worse than that, a crazy wacko 

“Oh, lorries?” he asked staring at her in that enigmatic way of staring. At her.

 “…..anyway,” she said quickly looking away from his eyes that were so distracting that she felt confused as soon at she found herself again pulled under their gaze, “—the gps ….cuts out quite a lot be-because -th-the connection….? —it— gets cut off —which ….is what happened when I —I—got stuck by the way! Ha! Uh yeah! Hah!…. I ended up about to —pull onto a bridge where ha! So, uh—I wasn’t suppose to—not really like allowed to go on—and guess what happened there?” she imitates a police siren and uses one hand over her head as though pretending it is a flashing red light on a police car going “whoo-whoo!!!! Whoo!!” she shakes her head and shudders from the memory, “and, sheesh! that image of the huge river under me ….! I still have nightmares about it—but it was just —actually— hah! just last week —! actually….actually …. yeah….so…. uhhh…..”

“Hence the map in the travel section….”

“Um—yeah—that…. hmm, y’know….? shhhit…. I should have remembered to buy it….”

“So what do you do about internet? You just go into bookstores or coffee places and use their WiFi?”

“Well, sometimes I do that too if—see—I have a jet pack which usually works great— unless—it’s like— it’s a kind of router or satellite but it gets flaky in some especially rural or mountainous regions so—I like to map out my directions by hand on a piece of paper or search for those rare things you can’t find anywhere, once known as ‘road maps’….” (and here she does those silly two fingers thing but as she does she seems embarrassed and stops herself thinking how stupid she keeps doing that….he was making her nervous how he was looking at her)

“Just—wondering—you—do you ….you live here—?—is that, full time?—I mean—what do you do for electricity or….?”

“Yeah—uh, you can say that, I guess—it’s a long story but—so—this RV has full utilities—so, you can still play your Super Mario Nintendo, so don’t worry—“ she stops deadpan and stares at him

“Sorry?” he then said not sure if he heard right and tried not to start to laugh or break into a smile

“You just seem like a super Mario brothers type….”

“Me? No—what gave you that idea?” but he smiled unable to stop himself

“Yeah, so—anyway, it’s like got like its own generator but I can connect to —y’know, like when say at camp grounds —some offer an RV hook up for electric—so—uh—I always take it because…. I mean….it saves on my propane supply,” she turned intentionally away from his gaze now and as they were facing the front of the vehicle now she kind of leapt towards the drivers seat area and then threw herself down onto the drivers seat, as she continued to talk, looking blankly out ahead at the parking lot by the Hertz rental shop, “….so things like water and dumping waste, it’s like you look for the places —they’re like, y’know, dumping stations like along on the way —so for filling up your water supply and for dumping….so ….when I got lost and wound up here, where’d you call this place?—Electra? Weird name, I didn’t see it on the map….”

“It was on the key by the legend,” he interjects 

“Oh? —so anyway, this is what happened—this morning, like at dawn—I was just leaving the dump station after I refilled my water and when I went to put my foot on the gas pedal it just stopped going—in the middle of traffic! I was like—shit! What the fuck! I was like a beached whale stuck in the middle of this fucking highway and —at first there was not a car in sight until suddenly—boom! I created a fucking traffic jam!!! No idea where all these cars came from so I was freaking —and the motor cut out and….already, a hundred degrees out….”   she stops suddenly there as if feeling she had said by far more than she ever wanted to say and wishing she had shut up after just answering his question. Why did she say all that?

“So you need a navigator —basically, is….what you’re trying to say,” but he was openly teasing her

“And you need something to pitch…..To your publisher.”

“….I do….”

A departure from Electra/Tour de force

 

And so for a moment either was stuck looking at there other, unaware that they were ….staring 

they did not notice until at a certain point, they only became self consciously aware they were doing that. But unaware the other was doing it back

and both tried to smooth over the moment of this with some such casual move like, saying—

“so—“

at the same time

while tilting their heads and looking away 

so unaware the other did this until they said what they said at the exact moment

and then they both laughed. Awkwardly. But then it occurred to them it didn’t seem to even matter and if anything, broke the ice of the obvious elephant in the —tourbus

“Ummm….” Adair said and finished her tea, standing up as casually as she could to wash her teacup, going to the sink. With a kind of sigh with seeming casualness, she pulled aside the kitchen curtain to look at the view ….noticing the road outside 

“It looks like rush hour traffic is thinning out….” she said by way of conversation and then, by now sort of having read his mind, she said, “maybe you can help me with directions actually—to navigate where to go….” and let that sentence dangle where it may

“How’s that?” Simon stood up to bring over his own tea cup and moved as if to wash it at the sink—but as she moved to her right again unexpectedly just as he moved, her intention to wash his cup for him, they collided in the sudden surprise of their moves. And as he had almost knocked her off her feet with the weight of himself knocking into her, he reached out both hands to her shoulders to steady her. 

And it must have been the surprise of the contact. The surprise of his hands on her shoulders. How it felt. And how unexpected the sensation. 

Even as she had noticed her attraction to him right away standing there in the travel section of the bookstore. And he seemed to like how she fit into the cradle of his arms as she fell into him—just at that moment. Even as he had only noticed her at the bookstore because he liked the shape of her small ass in the cut off jeans she wore and how long her legs seemed despite her minute height so that she seemed to walk on stilts like a ballerina 

“Ehrm….” and politely he held her back from himself, forcing thoughts into civilized directions with a conscious effort to forget the memory of his first glimpse off her ass from across the travel section, “I’d love to help you with directions….” he said

When she said 

“Oh!” as he caught here

Then,

“….yeah….” her face deepening in color turned up to him as he looked down at her with those two different shades of green…. one like a teal and the other a like ….sage….with a sweeping fringe of dark eyelashes below dark brows—“uhhh….”

“Where….?” 

He seemed first to regain reason but only as he was better schooled to hide it and smiled down at her

“But don’t you need to be somewhere?” Adair asked him

“Fuck it,” he laughed, “I can make up an excuse—‘the flight was canceled’, ‘the pilot has Covid’, ‘I tested positive….’” Here Simon shrugs 

Adair laughed and became suddenly caught up in his enthusiasm,

“really?” And she laughed some more, “could you really just do that?”

He looked at he frankly and smiled,

“do you know how many articles I’ve written on travel? Business class, coach, first class—a weekend getaway, ‘a Cotswold’s weekend’ ‘Four Seasons at Central Park….’” and here he fakes an exaggerated yawn, “I’m so tired of appealing to the entitled upper crust ….I’ve been trying to break away from those tired travel guides and do something independently….” 

Adair just for a moment took in his look upon her. Then dropped her eyes. She took his cup to wash it and after she dried both cups and secured them in the cabinet beside the kitchen window she said, 

“So you want to go on a Fleetwood tour instead, and write about that?”

“Write about it….film it….live the Kerouac dream—who wouldn’t?” and this time his laugh is half mad and ecstatic 

And contagious. 

She laughs too. They both seem unable to stop.

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.”

“Yeah?” She says again 

“I tell you what, if I can pitch this to my publisher ….this would be the break I’ve been looking for—so, where do you need navigating?”

“Well, you see I have the worst sense of direction—I get lost just getting out of bed if I turn the wrong way so…. see, I’m supposed to deliver a dozen Amish quilts and pick up more and —I really suck at directions but they always let me stay there for free, so—I’m on my way first to Philadelphia then New York and then after that Michigan and a few national parks where the quilts are really popular. But the pow wow in New York has Native American trading posts and….”

Only she found herself forgetting what she was saying too lost in her own babble and stopped to say instead,

“are you any good with directions?”

 how is it they don’t let go; that barbed wire tugs like a hungry barracuda …. to drain more energy away