After the beauty parlor

Complete exhaustion. [see also July 18, 2006]

These pictures may be examples of those considered

"Worth a Thousand Words."

In My Eye [Cue]

This entry should suggest certain important topics--measuring intelligence, psychological health, to name only 2-- rather than simply the appropriateness of the toys presented to me. Remember that as you read on:
Mama et Papa feel obligated to proffer Educational Toys. [I do respect their choice to maintain 2 largish boxes of cadeaux for me] For example, carefully examine the toy I'm holding; the "challenge" is to remove each of the smaller ball contained within.

What a laugh. In, out, a ball's a ball. I hesitate [for modesty's sake] to reveal that on my first try I extracted each of the seven balls. Further, I discovered that only 3 of the balls squeeked-- and obviously those are the only balls I choose to play with. Too yawn-making.

Yes, my IQ is high. No real need for the Intellectually Stimulating Toy, psychological testing, or even a reminder of my Pawtropolis diploma earned [& discussed in entry of July 21, 2006].

Naturally, I occasionally indulge in the game to please Mama. And concommitently I indugle her effulgence as she watches me apply New Skills.

Here's a cue regarding the level of my intelligence: my preference on these hot, humid, bug-ridden days is to relax on Mercury's Chair on my screened in porch and watch the world go by. Doesn't that strike you as a highly intelligence choice?

Photographer: my turn

As I pen [a metaphor] this, several important entries are in process [a term I learned from Mama, often used in academia for dubious purposes].

However, springtime's in the air in Athens, GA, with highs in the upper 70s & plenty of pollen and bugs to suit nobody's taste.

Thus I explain my yearning to conquer [figure of speech?] expression through the graphic arts. First up: photography.

Here's Mama in my first attempt at portraiture.

How patient she is, what an even temper she possesses! For she allowed me to: [1] use her digital camera, [2] publish this, my first photo ever.

I like to think of this entry as an Ode to Springtime, that season of new beginnings.

And the shot of me [above & self-shot] as paean to the Persian new year, 1386.

NoRuz Mobarak

Brief Wander through the Filmic Martini

The successful reception of the previous entry suggested a [rather banal] literary conceit to Mama [pauvre Mama].

"Mercury," she inquired, "why not follow the Chilblaines & Kid Gloves in Literature entry with something like the Martini in Film [& Literature]? Wouldn't that make a good follow-up-- a sort of thematic approach to your little blog?"

I listened to Mama's request & appeared to give my thoughtful consideration to her recommendation. [I noted the "little blog" crack, simply too pitiful to answer.] However, I decided to humor her:

"Shaken not stirred," said James Bond. How familiar is that bon mot! Almost a slogan for James Bond in film & print. The Nick & Nora films plots are driven by that shaken libation.

Here's one you may not be aware of [admittedly, nor was I] : the 1928 film, "Dry martini." Starring Mary Astor [a beautiful woman & personal favorite], it was directed by Argentinian Harry d'Abbadie d'Arrast . A paeon to the dry martini? I shall view it & report.

The martini in film noir[along with ever-present cigarette smoke] is a powerful signifier of sophistication. [film noir is discussed in January 20/21, 2007]

As a sophisticate myself, I excell in the art of preparing a cold, crisp Vodka [ gin, by special request] Martini. Papa et Mama each endeavored to instruct me; it was a case of the student quickly outpacing the teachers. I may also prepare water cress & cucumber sandwiches upon request. Here I offer pictorial evidence of my special acumen--an ice cold martini; one could skate across the top:

Annoyingly, Papa, after reading a draft of today's entry, also chimed in with a concept: "Mercury, why not follow this entry with one about dogs in film [& literature], focusing on the relationship of dogs with children?" As if this blog were based on themes rather than aesthetic whims and literary inspiration. The creative dog is misunderstood in the world of humans.

And I plan to abandon the thematic approach, leaving on a high note. [i.e. this entry & for more on the martini, click the subject heading below].

No More Themes/ "No More Twist," remarked the talented non-humans in one of my favorite novels The Tailor of Gloucester [novel by Beatrix Potter].

Kid Gloves and Chilblains in Literature

Photo #1: one of my many book shelves [also note: an 8-ball & the, alas, pink, date-ball]

Photo #2: overflow-- books in boxes
Photo #3: one of my much loved reading nooks

I have claimed [rather coyly, I admit] that I cannot read; I have also claimed that "reading is my hobby" [10/20/06]. Now it must be admitted that both claims were eroneous [although asserted for the best of reasons]. For, once declare my erudution, I would be beseiged with requests: to create "Cliff Notes," write book reviews, etc.

Now the truth must be revealed since kid gloves and chilblains have intruded into the Roushanzamir world & have had a sadly direct impact on my daily life [e.g. walking in damp, raw, & cold curtailed]. Pauvre Mama. Last year it was shingles. And as you have probably guessed by now, kid gloves & chilblains [on the toes] have reared their collective heads [to use a frightful metaphor].

As for reading, I practice of that human art voraciously. I've read and reread amongst the classics and contemporary global literature and therefore accumlated [almost] innumerable books [see shot above for but a tiny example] as well as vast general knowledge and extraneous, but fascianting, details of humans' cultural, political-economic, and social practices.

No research required. Below find a few instances of kid gloves & chilblains in literature. And behold, the world revells in joy amongst sorrow, delight amongst [highly qualified] agony and interest amongst ignominy.

Let us journey through time & text as we a sip few literary cocktails [check back for more on the cocktail or read July 31 & November 25, 2006] .

"...Edward cannot get his boots on to come to school as he has chilblains so badly...." anonymous note from parent to school teacher in Edwardian England.









"...our ungloved hands became numbed and covered with chilblains...." from Jane Eyre (C. Bronte, formerly Currer Bell]


"....his mother left her husband
in Egypt with her 5 children, returning to London, where he remembers his mother as tormented by cracked chilblains covering her hands." from the biography of C. S. Forester

from Little Dorrit by the incomparable C. Dickens:

"....to think of the days when papa used to bring me here the least of girls a perfect mass of chilblains to be stuck upon a chair with my feet on the rails and stare at Arthur--pray excuse me--Mr Clennam--the least of boys in the frightfullest of frills and jackets ere yet Mr F.appeared a misty shadow on the horizon paying attentions like the well-known spectre of some place in Germany beginning with a B is a moral lesson inculcating that all the paths in life are similar to the paths down in the North of England where they get the
coals and make the iron and things gravelled with ashes!"

A lighter touch:

"I once loved a lassie from Greenleigh
Whose comportment was naught short of queenly.
When she grows old and stout,
Wracked with chilblains and gout,
I'll embrace her no less, but more keenly."
from Avant News, Tomorrow's News Today

Glance at this recommended cure for chilblains from Godey's Ladies Book & Magazine: "....household remedy for chilblains, pot pourri, to gild without gold, hot water...."

Or more specifically, again from Jane Eyre: "The recommended cure for chilblains was to apply a poultice of hot roasted onions to the affected area and leave for two to three days, if not cured earlier...."

Now, faithful fans, from the indignity of chilblains to the rareified world of kid gloves, you'll be [perhaps] happily astonished by this first quotation from chapter 2, Alice in Wonderland:

"After a time she heard a little pattering of feet in the distance, and she hastily dried her eyes to see what was coming. It was the White Rabbit returning , splendidly dressed, with a pair of white kid gloves in one hand and a large fan in the other: he came trotting along in a great hurry, muttering to himself as he came, `Oh! the Duchess, the Duchess! Oh! won't she be savage if I've kept her waiting!' Alice felt so desperate that she was ready to ask help of any one; so, when the Rabbit came near her, she began, in a low, timid voice, `If you please, sir--' The Rabbit started violently, dropped the white kid gloves and the fan, and skurried away into the darkness as hard as he could go."

Or from My Uncle James, Guy de Maupassant:

“Every Sunday, dressed in our best, we would take our walk along the pier. My father, in a frock coat, high hat and kid gloves, would offer his arm to my mother, decked out and beribboned like a ship on a holiday. My sisters, who were always ready first, would await the signal for leaving; but at the last minute someone always found a spot on my father’s frock coat, and it had to be wiped away quickly with a rag moistened with benzine. " [as for benzine, it too appears in myriad tomes & recalls days gone by almost as effectively as chilblains & kid gloves-- all 3 however gradually passing from everyday use & awareness]

In the [could it be more?] depressing book, Of Human Bondage" by Mr. Somerset Maugham, a striking reversal of the usual [chapter 88!]:

"She had taken her hair out of the curling pins and now wore an elaborate fringe. She had on a plain black dress and black kid gloves…."

Appropriately following the previous example, Roy Fuller titled his mystery: Death Wears Kid Gloves. [this appears in Popular Detective, 3/47]

And finally:

I know you must wonder why I've turned to this method of cheering Mama in her moments of discomfort and despair? Ah, the happy memories of reading & rereading Little Women by Louisa May Alcott.

"Jo [see illustration below] thanked him and gladly went, wishing she had two neat [kid] gloves when she saw the nice, pearl-colored ones her partner wore. The hall was empty, and they had a grand polka, for Laurie danced well, and taught her the German step, which delighted Jo being full of swing and spring> When the music stopped, they sat down on the stairs to get their breath, and Laurie was in the midst of an account of a students' festival at Heidelberg when Meg appeared in search of her sister. She beckoned, and Jo reluctantly followed her into aside room, where she found her on a sofa, holding her foot, and looking pale." [German step, like benzine, long forgotten]

Would that Mama experience the life-restoring pleasures of the best of books & the warming light of a blazing fire. For herein lies the cure as it would also helped forestall the recurring scourge of chilblains [soothe the feet & heat the gloves].

I sincerely trust that each of you have enjoyed [and will benefit from!] this romp through literary history. And further, that you never experience the pain of chilblains; and that you have, or will have, the pleasure of wearing a pair of kid gloves.

For now, adieu & as ever thank you, faithful fans.