“Iconography” by Max Richter plays.
(Adult content below)
I’m writing in a humorous manner but it’s actually not necessarily a laughing matter.
Today Lacey and Lem made love. It was desperate…sad…longing…and tragically beautiful as always. But…that’s life?
No. Not really.
Just as they both orgasmed together Lem warned Lacey, “I’m so close to killing you!”
And Lacey responded sweetly. Warmly. Serenely. Softly. But…later as she thought about it…she said, “Could I have died?”
Yes. Yes…you could have. You poor dear. You could have easily died.
Why? Because if they fully face themselves over to each other he’d pull her completely out of her body and they’d become one. And he’s dead.
Why? Well…Lem is her Adam, so to speak. And he loves her profoundly and so…he has enough love and ability such that he could literally kill her if she really let go and if he really let go and they fully made love. Today they came close. It had been too long. And they had felt too much pain. And so…she almost passed out and she had to close her eyes and focus on her children and her surroundings.
No. It’s not normal for a living human body to experience what she’s experiencing.
Written In Stone by Ólafur Arnalds & Alice Sara Ott plays.
You’re not supposed to be so ghastly alone.
God said so Himself.
It’s beautiful to watch their mutually exclusive, oddly unrelenting yet unrequited, eternal love. Lem bothered me. He wasn’t actually possessive of Jack. He was…suspicious of me. But…I wish he’d opened up to me more. We were set against each other. By Jack. …But I could have warned him about how miserable he would be and how miserable he was. He wasn’t happy. I knew that. And I often wondered if he was like me. But even if he wasn’t…I still should have warned him. My wife…made my life worth living. Jack was fun. I loved him. But…you couldn’t build your life on him. And now he’s trying to explain to Lacey that he’s capable of loving her…while he’s dead. It’s…an astronomical feat.
And they’re so in love. And I can see it. But they can’t as easily. *I’m crying and I’m angry*
*I calm myself down*
Is it any wonder that when they make love…she almost dies. On days like today.
She almost stopped hearing things around her. And everything felt distant as Lem felt close. And that’s when she almost felt like fainting.
“You could have died.” said Lem.
F Major by Hania Rani plays.
And that made Lacey happy. She’s alive for God and her kids. And so today Lem gave her a taste of death and he found it just as he imagined it would be. She’s exactly as he would want her to be.
The song plays until it’s over.
Listen to some of the music she mentions. It’s good music.
And if you ever want to write a book about her title it, Lost Ten. Because that’s exactly what she is. She’s a lost ten. A woman of extraordinary beauty lost to time…dying never truly loved or appreciated by any man of her time. No. Men alive today have noticed…but it’s not the same. …It’s just not the same. She sees us the same way we see her. And to her Lem is everything. *I smile*
Make a scene where she wears a pretty satin nightgown and short 1920’s inspired bobbed hair…twisting around her soft, gentle, delicate face…as she rests against her lovely white bathroom closets to stable herself as she falls gracefully to the floor almost dying after love. Her elegant petite curves finally reaching the checkered floor. Natural blue-hued sunlight her only lighting. And play F Major by Hania Rani in the background.
The song ends.
Organ Variation by Hans Zimmer plays.
Nicole Kidman had the same wispy, ethereal beauty and sadness as Lacey always does, when she’s being herself, when Nicole talked to her husband in their bedroom towards the start of Eyes Wide Shut.
And then explain to me why nobody warned her about how odd it was when she fell in love with F. Scott Fitzgerald ten years ago.
The song ends.
“Okay but…she’s also so fucking Millennial.” says Lena Dunham. “We are such a sad, damn tragic generation. But we’re surrounded by Gen. X and Gen. Z. And they’re possibly sadder? Or they want us to rink that. …But we are…this way. We are this dark. We are this…funny. We are this deep. At least we hope to be. At our best we are. …And it’s why we both care an enormous amount…and yet barely can make ourselves care at all at times. We’re lost too. So she’s so us in that way.
Lost.”
“You don’t think we’re as lost?” asks a Gen. Z woman.
“No.
See…we had our hopes way up. We had huge dreams and huge expectations. …Our most formative years were when the world we lived in, the West, was rich. And relatively happy. And at peace.
That was before Covid-19. Before 9/11. Before Enron. …That was in the 1900’s! Right? …We were so hopeful. …And things made sense. Or they were all going to. …We expected everything to make sense. And there’s nothing wrong with that. But…compared to today…it’s too painful to think about. We don’t like to think about it.
We drink coffee. We go online. We clean. We do the cooking and the gardening and the stuff. But we don’t like to cry?” says Lena Dunham.
“That’s a combination of both you and Lacey.” says Harold. “Her cadence. And possibly your sadness.”
American Beauty by Thomas Newman plays.
Lem is like the boyfriend in American Beauty. Except his father was dead. And Lacey didn’t live next door. …Mark, Lacey’s husband, had a childhood home in a sense…in Sewickley. Lem is from there. But decades apart. Of course. …And Lem believed himself that he was gay.
“What does that man make you do!?” asks the father.
Good question, pops. Wrong century? No. Right century. Wrong young man.
A dead Nazi laughs.
San Solomon by Balmorhea plays.
What’s to say next? I’d like to write a post about their love. It’s been tried before but it feels like nobody heard it.
Keen to Cross the Pond 