Oriental Charm
CHINA DOLL
A short story
By
B. J. "A" 2
October 19th 2010
A cold day in the throes of November's embrace, embroiled in the chaos of Winter's decay, life frozen in the icy grips of change, waiting for something to come, something that may never come from that which has gone .
A lone, old man sits in front of a one eyed monster, inside the house that Andrew Carnegie, built for humanity, a house of words, where ideas, history, philosophy, biography, the arts - candy for the eyes and mind ( brush / pen strokes from the minds and hands of the talented and visionary ) - fantasies, facts and fictions, all lying in wait for the hungry, curious and the carnivorous - where his gray matter, now outside, hangs around his temples as he attempts ( in his current state of computer illiteracy ) to glean - from the projections this one eyed monster's brain filters out from all the debris cyber space bombards the human mind with -some semblance of the information he is seeking.
During his searching, a schizophrenic man - a very friendly, giving, knowledgeable man - of his acquaintance ( a man who has for ten years, lived under the stars, the clouds, the black skies of night, beneath rain drops, snow flakes with nothing more then the leaves, the branches of the trees as the roof over his head ) comes up to him , a greeting, an exchange of pleasantries, the rhetoric being light and superficial, then is gone like a summer breeze in winter, back to, from whence he came .
The old man's time is up, the computer shuts down, time to go. Upon his leaving this repository of untold knowledge, he spots this other worldly mind, the man of his acquaintance, sitting at a table with this vision of exquisite, exotic loveliness, an Oriental Beauty, that takes his breath away. The Mind, stops the old man and introduces him to this beautiful young Lady, who stands and offer her hand, a hand the old man tenderly takes in his as he ( in his standard greeting for women and some men ) by, bypassing the hand shake , takes her in his arms and lets a hug be the meaningful greeting he offers, ( she reciprocate without hesitation, even though it is not her custom nor her experience ) the offer any man should extent to a woman he has just met or known for a life time, also to friends, acquaintances, lovers, girlfriends, wives, family and the children of his dreams or of his mistakes .
There seems to be this connection, the old man's heart starts to dance to the beat of a different drummer, a drummer not playing the same drums " The Polish Princess, " drove her drum sticks through, through it's skin and into the very heart of it's beat, as two thousand and seven and " The Princess ," closed their steely doors on the past, on this broken hearted old man, on the year. His heart starts to beat to this new drummer's rhythm as he plays with the energy, soul and spirit, with the thunder and lightning of a young man. The old / young man , who by happenstance, has slipped onto the gorgeous wings of hope and dreams, the ecstasies of a flight of fancy, embarks on a new journey. The embers of what once was a raging inferno, that have, for a long while, been decaying, dyeing, start to flicker and dance, soon becoming the brilliant flames for a passion to live, a desire to give, a reason to share, once again, what has been buried beneath the ashes of all his hopes and dreams, hopes and dreams that where extinguished by the ugly head of prejudices nurtured by preconceived notions, a critically, judgemental, tyrannical parent instilled and a society inflicted upon a tiny, innocent mind and in her maturity, for her lack of an adventurous free spirit .
The old man's heart springs to life, flies into a furious drum solo, a drum solo with a beat that could bring down the house, a solo that would no long be contained , on longer be played upon the stage of his life - alone. There would be a dualism, a duet to entertain the stars. The old man reaches deep within his shattered soul and destroys the bars of that cage which has enfolded all he once was and gave so freely, setting himself free once more, throwing open, wide, his heart's door for this Asian Beauty. His heart beat cries out, " let there be life !, let there be joy !, let me love and be loved ! ", this with the anticipation of fulfilling the dreams of two. They say that you can not buy youth, for your old age, you can not buy love for your emptiness - this may be so but youth and love can ( for a moment anyway ) give you a lift down the roads they now ride , become your companions as you walk the last mile, share their beauty with you even if they never, really ever, give to you pieces of their hearts.
Transference ?, influential energy ?,this old man's Soul, his Spirit, wants to know, regardless, wants to experience one more time, all that they left behind so long ago .
Is there any real intent, without love ?, is indifference the lock ?, can the love of One, be the key for the other ?, too be able to unlock, conquer and over come ? Could these be possibilities ?, become the substance of which a reality - that looms in the not so distant future - will be built upon ?, or where the future may never touch, never find a place to realize it's life's potential, live out it's dream ?
Time has passed, the old man sees, he feels, it begins to show, blinded though, he does know, yet is unwilling to let go of that beautiful taste in his mouth, in his eyes, in his heart, but a taste may be all there will have ever been for him to savour of that delicious meal he so desired to set - with loving care and tender touch upon the palate of his Soul, forever and a day ( although his days are numbered ) - before the eyes of man, but that Love, may never come his way !?
Twelfth month and the old man was given the light, dissipating the shadows that the clouds of uncertainty created over his love of . China Doll, Thanks Giving night, opened the curtains and showed the old man the real world she was living in, looking for, her future, bringing the curtains down upon the illusion he held as he deluded him self in the belief ( against all odds, against his better judgement ) that this young and youthful Beauty, could ever entertain the thought or feeling of love and a lasting relationship with him. The old mans dream and Beauties, goals ( her future ) collided in the light of Thanks Giving night, shattering his rainbow images, each shard, every fragment of, penetrating the fibber of every cell, every atom of his being as de ja vu slapped him in the face, taking him back in time to - two thousand and seven - where a light of similar intensity, from a Princess, burned a great big hole in his heart. Now, once again, burned, scared he lays bleeding upon the wreckage of his own blind and foolish belief that China Doll, or Polish Princess, could ever see past, or even want to see past the image they perceive of this old man .
The old man knew, The Princess, made it clear, he knows, China Doll, makes it clear - he was not good enough, intelligent enough for royalty and he is not young enough or financially secure enough for Lotus Blossom. He realized and realizes these things ( being uneducated, being of low class // being indigent, being old, having walked through this plane for almost twice the number of years as Beauty, ) would eventually become the catalyst, along with the differences that thousands of years of cultural superstitions, beliefs, nurturing and like most of us, the desire to be among youth and youthfulness. We desire to hold, to feel youth in our hands, to caress it, to share in it, to be a part of it even if it has left us far, far behind and of coarse this would lead us eventually to set fire to the tight rope we've been walking, the suspension bridge between our two different worlds, worlds the Lady Princess, and The Lady Lotus Blossom, where never really ready to reconcile, nor willing to over look the differences, as they saw them to be and just take every tidbit, every morsel, every bite, every moment at hand and live it to the fullest, until the moment that they find the essence of the dreams they have been searching for to come their way. The old man, fool that he is, did fall hard for the Princess, and China Doll, unconditional love he gave and did not see any differences that love, consideration, passion and compassion, time and patience could not over come. The old man only saw that their worlds had collided in a beautiful array of kaleidoscopic visions of shapes and colours, that The Ladies, and he had -in spite of some differences - shared a lot of similar interests and had a lot in common .
Back to the here and now, as China Doll, and the old man's parts intermingled, she responding in kind, hugging him back on that fateful day in November 2009, giving him hope and as they became intimately as one, he lived on cloud nine, until it seemed that she was only seeing their differences, even though she was giving into all the things she was indifferent to, allowing him to give to her every nuance of his love for her, of his desire to please her, to pleasure her, to satisfy her. She allowing all these liberties then, now - in hind sight - seems to have been without heart, yet the old man believed that in her allowing all that she did and does, ( the thought, the feeling was and is ) it meant and means that she cared and cares more then it appeared and appears she may have, even though she may really have .
The old man awakens, comes into this world of his, every day - from long hours of sleepless nights - a little sadder, lonelier, heavier of heart, yet no wiser from his dreams, as he continues to believe ( against all odds, reason, intuition and experience ) that what was beautiful in the beginning can be brought back to life, and yet, all the while knowing that one can not - no matter how much energy, heart and soul one's spirit projects ) bring back to life that which was never born, never had life, never lived in the first place .
Foolish old men that they are!, and this foolish old man that he is, knows that he will take every delicious moment China Doll, let him taste, every beautiful memory China's Lotus Blossom, Poland's Princess, and all the other beautiful women who entered and egress ed from his life, granted him, shared with him, gave to him and savour them for ever and a day, keeping the dream of, alive, for without a dream, life it's self and one's dream life becomes - in the Autumn / Winter of one's life - nothing more then a nightmare, where the dust of cremated memories are laid to rest beneath the snows of Winter for all eternity - frozen in time and in his mind .
The old man knows, yet he questions ?, could ?, would ?, spring walk lovingly, hand in had with winter once again ?, would Spring Blossom, passionately, affectionately lay with Autumn Leave, / Old Man Winter ?, The old man knows that many, many worlds, worlds apart, came together and created a new world, some times by happen stance, chaos, fate, some times arranged, some times out of necessity and for survival, some times for more altruistic reasons and some times out of a true and pure love - for other worldly reasons .
The old man knows that it all has come to an End, and is the End of this short story, as China Doll, / Lotus Blossom, searches every nook and cranny of cyber space for every thing the old man is not, a white, young knight, in shinning armour ( nothing like that of this tarnished, war beaten, battle scared old suit of armour ), a man she wants to be a girlfriend to, a lover with, a wife for, all for her future and her future happiness and security. The old man knows all this and so with a heavy heart, a sad soul, a broken spirit, tears in his eyes, he knows that all he can do is to wish for her a speedy and short journey into the realm's of love and being loved, of a successful hunt and a happy future.
Old men never say good bye, they just, one day, lay down and die !, carrying in their memories hoard, all the beauty they where fortunate enough to have shared in and filled their empty lives and plate with .
The old man ( impossible as it may be ) awaits the Dream, to come back, yet will accept the probability that another Dream, could come along and make it possible for one more adventure, one more journey into living within the light, of being living light, of knowing that a Dream, might touch the edges of his reality so that he may, one more time, rejuvenate and renew the forces, the energies that gave light, gave rainbows and meaning to the twilight hours of his remaining days in this plane and on this little blue planet, as it, like life, goes round and around .
The old man knows that he may never look beyond that which he has already been a part of / found, and lost in the blink of an eye, yet one day , who knows ?, he may be found .
B. J. "A" 2
Time is that train we all have been waiting for.
