An ambitious cosmopolitan artist enjoys traveling all over the world, though very often it is rather tough. He has got a weird style, looking for what is left unfound. Wherever he comes he meets a very interesting girl or woman, thinking she is the one he has always dreamed about. He has to leave each, though, not only for the lack of funds to finance the romance or ordinary life. He feels like falling parachuteless before hitting reality all alone. He acts out the eagle but seems to be the prey, like the moth to the flame. Anxiety for love of life, anxiety for pain, all this propels and inspires him. It is a love song to the self, a story recapped every day, a world of true feelings, but also a world of slow decay, mad laughter, and sweet torture, a reality of strange compulsion making his world really very worthwhile.
Kimberly, a Canadian high-school poet he met at the Hilton, Washington DC, under dramatic circumstances. She is very beautiful with a sunshine smile, brunette, slim, soft, delicate, sensitive, innocent, almost shy and fearful, mysterious, living in Toronto.
Stephanie, a French university graduate he has kept in touch with for four years. She is attractive, brunette, experienced, frank, different, depressed, almost frigid and cool, broken-hearted, living in Paris.
Rebecca, an American college graduate he had a chance to meet for a month. She is very interesting, friendly, scared, now married in Philadelphia, probably happily.
Len, a Czech Sappho he understood only a few months. She was a deep abyss poet, very smart and knowledgeable, extremely beautiful and vulnerable, lost and cold in the dark, all alone, perfect, adorable. Status: dead. Reason: suicide.
To the artist these four loved ones are worth mentioning to be dealt with throughout the extraordinary love story of a few episodes seen from a very different perspective that will surely impress, both entertain and move to tears. It is exactly what a large audience needs and wants without a doubt deep inside to help them solve their own problems in the love dimension.
Five different people (one male, four females) coming from four different societies or cultures (American, Canadian, Czech, French).
How do they come together and apart? And Why? What happens and what does not? How does it all happen? How does it feel when another new wave or age is "on", considering the youth holding onto "c o o l n e s s"?
Can't the artist wait to get aboard a 747 taking him away, up, closer to heaven again? Will the author finally sell at least one of his seventeen screenplays to afford it for a while?
There are important and interesting scenes taking place in Toronto, Niagara Falls, Michigan Lake, Detroit Airport, Washington DC, Indianapolis, and Paris, not to be forgotten so easily.
Some background: Generally, young people have created perfect self-defense mechanisms. Often they are even afraid to love and afraid of being loved. In other words, they are scared of everything around them. Sometimes they lose the joy of being itself, taking their lives. Those who survive hide their boredom, loneliness, and desperation in group activities that only sometimes fulfil them, rather than face the facts and / or prevent them. There is some joy missing that is to stem from the biological strength of two of the opposite sex together. The young fear too much, from what they see around, to take risks of involving themselves, lacking the joyful risk of feeling the unknown. Well, nothing venture nothing have. They are friendly, willing, and available until some limit. "If I don't get close, I don't get rejected or hurt." It is quite natural to want and need as well as get and lack. Hence life is about trying, isn't it? The young people's empire is really weird. Coolness, in both senses of the word, seems to be an anaesthetic to which they are somehow addicted. Isn't it an ideal to be on one's own? Isn't everybody on his or her own? Just look around and judge for yourself. Indeed, a strange generation on its own really to survive. However, there is their method displayed - a sort of genuine poetics.
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Jungle bound, happier, more hopeful than ever, I type, one-armed, amidst constant blackouts, with the slowest internet connection on Earth, on my sporadically working 15 year-old computer, only to be heard on Substack, big deal. This may be not a sorry scene, after all.
If you find me worthy of your money, please support your favorite Tarzan on my page ! I cannot get paid on Substack because Stripe is not available in Nicaragua, at the real end of the world. I will appreciate any contribution to my struggle for survival. Thank you for reading, getting this far …
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... and here we touch down, briefly I suspect, touch the hard earth of imperfect man and reality in Toronto Paris Philadelphia, Detroit Airport ? arriving? departing? to where? why? ... questions that seduce, danger and reward, take the joyful risk, taste the unknown, ingest the genuine poetics
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