Mornings in Bed Part II - Pipe Smoking..."as a remedy for the blues".

Talula vaguely remembers the night before. A pub near the Rhone...a few too many drinks; the sky started spinning...dark blues and golds and heavenly gifts of reds and cobalts; and then she saw stars...

Woke up in a little apartment with a guy who hacked off one ear! However...in his youth she was sure he resembled Bradley Cooper! At least that's what she's telling herself as she looks around the room to get a grip on her environment. A small twin bed, a chair, wooden floor...very modest for a fellow who's family apparently had a bourgeois outlook on life. The color was....very....

cornbreadish.

Born yesterday in 1890; another Aries who seemed to also view the world as an intolerable botch..."something that God threw together on one of his bad days".

Having become pretty much unemployable he turned to artwork which lay strewn around his apartment. I was most taken by his sketches.

In Van Goghs art one thing that caught me was that (in his drawings) his figures had a noted grip on the earth. His lines pulled at it.

...As if he resurfaced it with the beauty he wanted to see.

Hmmmm.
He seems nice enough though...although I get the feeling I might catch something from him if I stay much longer????

a demain,
TLB-VG?

Mornings In Bed Part I - Apogee

Apogee

It is with immense pleasure and the desire that I do not die
a death of dullness that I present to you;

Mornings In Bed
a 10 to 20 day series; pending my disastrous mood swings
about....

Ahhhhhhhh...rt.

Part 1
Apogee
Marcel Duchamp and my relationship with him (in bed).

This morning I woke up and put Marcel between my legs.
A humorous man who's love of puns and anagrams started his habit of captioning his works; believed as I often do(not always but sometimes like when the breeze catches my nightie or tossles my recently utubed bangs)THAT in all things there is a need for humor. He, however, did not believe that there was a need for art.
Which was the moment (in bed) this morning when I told him to shut up...in french "Ferme le bouche"...
(because it's the only thing I remember from French class)

Talula believes that art can mend this broken world.(per Shaina) This believe is possibly why her and Marcel get along so well. No reason to agree about everything and well...we are in bed together. So....

My attraction to him is because he was interested in ideas; "I refuse to accept anything on faith. So, doubting everything, I had to find in my work something that had not existed before. And then, of course, once having done something, I didn't want to repeat it."

I didn't want to repeat it
I didn't want to repeat it
I didn't want to repeat it

xoxo...that was me teasing Marcel. He's so sensitive..he was often called shy because he simply had no time for the Cubists (Picasso, Braque, Alexandra Nechita...whom I met once at a gallery in Stone Harbor..she gave me a CD with Glen Hansard on it and some techno.) endless discussion of theory. He whispered in my ear that their artwork lacked humor...of course never saying that Picasso himself was humorless. Just a sexual predator...whhhaaaattttt????

With that Talula boots him out the door and teases him that one of these mornings she'll end up with Picasso in bed as well.
Muah.
xo. TalulaParis.
"Bete comme un peintre" hahahaha. ha.

inquisitions and fears

Artwork: Talula Love Bottoms
Text: Maryanne Pappano

And I can't remember the last time
I saw nothing for something
out here
where the reasons are treason
and the loss
is a gain and vise versa...
never to know you again.
Finally
the color blue crosses my eyes
and it's like the
warm blue of death
like the smell of old roses
from prom
why do we save such dust
why do we cling to yesterdays nothings
in hopes for tomorrows
war stories and fables
leftovers
and
staples.
If I heard you scream I'd laugh aloud
feathers floating across
the path that I chose
as two swallows pluck at each others inquisitions and fears
till
a
single
droplet
of
blood
tickles my scalp
and my feet fall out from under me
as my black hole
belches my soul.

but burn, burn, burn,

"But then they danced
down the street like dingledodies,
and I shambled after as I've been doing all my life
after people who interest me,
because the only people for me are
the mad ones,
the ones who are mad to live,
mad to talk,
mad to be saved,
desirous of everything at the same time,
the ones who never yawn or
say a commonplace thing,
but burn, burn, burn,
like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding
like spiders across the stars
and in the middle you see the blue center-light pop and everybody goes "Awww!"
-Jack Kerouac

Travel....In the blue part of the evening

Talula is on the road again...
Where will she land this time?

In search of selflessness!

..maybe a little peace and a tree house for a studio?
a yoga platform and
nature as music?

Artwork: TheartB
Song: Gypsy Death and You
Artist: The Kills

You knock on her door
She don’t recognise your voice no more
So she got on an aeroplane
Na na na na na so long after
Strip down from the fever
Laid down in a hotel bed
Wouldn’t take no phone calls at all
Didn’t want no more voices in her head

And that’s the way that you feel
And that’s the way that you feel
And that’s the way that you feel honey know
That’s the way that you feel

In the blue part of the evening
Sometimes its hard
She thinks she hears you coming
But she’s stuck against the wall
Oh she wants what she wants
So she do what she do
But now she looks at you
She covers one eye 'cause she can see into your mind
She no longer wants to

And that’s the way that you feel
And that’s the way that you feel
And that’s the way that you feel honey know
That’s the way that you feel