After a month of rain the sun appeared and the sky was blue and hot. The combination of unexpected sunshine and the escapism of reading Death on the Nile have put me in an exotic mood.
Most of us are occasionally smitten by exotic fantasies - whether we care to admit it or not. My current imaginative escape has transported me to Egypt in the 1920's.
(I figured Cairo in the 1920's was probably more exotic than it is now)
I'm smooth, suave, deliciously young - - dressed in white summer attire, a custom-made suit that would rival anything worn by Jay Gatsby. I look like a Leyendecker illustration in Collier's Magazine. I'm languishing in a cool corner of a Cairo cafe, sipping a karakadey, smoking a Caravellis cigarette. The distant smouldering sunset is merely a prelude to the erotic secrets of a sultry desert night.....
illustration by J.C.Leyendecker
I've always been fiercely attracted to exotic romanticism. When I was young I tried to incorporate it into my life. Now, I only dream about it and yearn for the past. There are times in my past that were intriguingly similar to my Cairo fantasy. I've never been to Cairo, but Southern California was a very reasonable facsimile.
I remember sultry summer nights in Los Angeles, when I played the piano in clandestine bars and cafes. I often wore all white back then (even my shoes), mostly to vainly emphasize my dark tan. I smoked Krakatoa clove cigarettes and sipped Madeira. I wasn't remotely suave but I gave an impressive illusion. Those were the nights when I seldom went home empty-handed......
Occasionally there would be weekend escapes to Palm Springs. At the time it seemed remote and exotic. It's a two-hour drive from L.A. - - considerably less if you're drunk and driving a Camaro.
My memory burns with the image of one spectacular moonless night, near Palm Springs, having a romantic escapade in a convertible, parked near a grove of date palms.
My spontaneous spitefulness sometimes unexpectedly turned into exotic episodes. Most often after the breakup of a torrid romance.
I vividly recall throwing a volume of Dostoyevsky's The Brothers Karamazov at my soon-to-be-ex-lover and dramatically shouting "I'm leaving forever! You'll never see me again!"
Fortunately my aim was bad. Dostoyevsky hit the wall and shattered a framed document. If it had hit my intended victim, the blow would have probably been fatal.
I disappeared from L.A. and wound up on a beach in Baja, near Ensenada, where I lived for three weeks. That was an exotic odyssey - - at least I thought so.
Baja
I have other exotic memories to share, but I don't want to overstay my welcome. Well not much, anyway.
Remind me to tell the incredible tale of what inspired me to sail a boat solo to Catalina Island with very little nautical experience (I've told this before on my old blog Lone Star Concerto but it's worth a rerun).
It's hard to believe that my life was once filled with romance and exotic adventures, when now - in the Tennessee wilderness - my biggest adventures consist of falling down the mountainside on my clumsy ass and chasing wayward 'possums out of the house.
Life is a bitch but the memories are sweet.
link to my new photo blog Cabinet of Curios Treasures:
Beautiful Egypt
Remind me to tell the incredible tale of what inspired me to sail a boat solo to Catalina Island with very little nautical experience (I've told this before on my old blog Lone Star Concerto but it's worth a rerun).
It's hard to believe that my life was once filled with romance and exotic adventures, when now - in the Tennessee wilderness - my biggest adventures consist of falling down the mountainside on my clumsy ass and chasing wayward 'possums out of the house.
Life is a bitch but the memories are sweet.
link to my new photo blog Cabinet of Curios Treasures:
Beautiful Egypt
