I love this photograph: he doesn't hate it, but then, he isn't as fond of it as am I. I cannot imagine why though, perhaps this is because he is my husband and I his wife and I see things that others don't see. I see a young man, wavy haired and handsome, so vital and full of potential and in a new and strange land (Paris, France) learning his way around.
If I had known him at this time, I would have certainly made my presence known until I got what I wanted, which is him, just as he is in this picture here. But the problem with that is that at the time, I was nine years old and lived an ocean away, and even when he was in Paris, I was likely in Northeast London, Tottenham, attending St. Anne's and he was already a student at Yale and had a steady girlfriend, whom I envy and don't envy at the same time because I know that during this particular time period, he had lots of women wanting him, as an American teacher in France it was practically guaranteed and I've often wondered if that's why he went but nonetheless...
He was a commodity there and would give himself over to that. But that is someone else's history and her story to tell or write, not my own.
He wasn't exactly the type to, how do I put this gently, ah, be a one-woman man. In fact, he was more interested in testing out his new-found independence and why shouldn't he? There is nothing wrong with being youthful and indiscrete; that's what youth is all about and I can understand that, so why then limit yourself to one girl or young woman.
It seems almost a set-up to fail, yet I do know couples who have been together since high school, which seems to me an act of great will and love. But for so many of us, to commit at such a young age seems dangerous and to split up for three years while one lives abroad and the other remains in Paris seems to me a recipe for disaster and not a deal that I personally would take on, no matter how appealing I may have found him, no matter how charming or winning his lines about fidelity etc. Call me cynical, but time has borne this out.
But I have him now, and it is in the now that I live, yet I am allowed, I think, to wonder What if.... if I had been eighteen or so. I need not dwell on it too long because I think the answer is very simple and not at all complicated and most of you, if not all, can suss out the details of that particular relationship, surely at the time based almost entirely on lust. How odd that we could have been in Paris at the same time (we used to take the hovercraft over virtually every weekend and went to paris often; it is odd then that we could have crossed paths; that my nine-year-old grey-green eyes would have met his grey-blue eyes. That at the midpoint of the intersection when we stepped off the curb we recognized something in each other. A knowingness or sense of knowing.
Article comments
1 - Victor Lana
Sadi,
Another great post? Is this a series? It should be.
I think I'm guilty of taking the moment for granted part. In fact, I probably took my whole time in France for granted back then. I wish I could go back in time. Ahh!
2 - Japhet Bower
What a welcome change from the usual shit that plagues blogcritics.
Good stuff!
3 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
Hi Victor, Hi Japhet _ that's rather high praise and i'm grateful. It would be great if it were an official series, though it's not. BUT, that said, nothing can stop me from writing each piece and posting it provided the Editors see fit, etc etc. -- I try to find a photograph I've taken (i love photography) and then write my story based around the image. It is a series in that this is how i think and that i have many photographs that rather speak to me in this regard.
Would be great to have it as an official series, though i have not heard anything about that. But, that said, your comments mean a great deal and i'm really glad you like these pieces a lot.... That means more than anything else.
I do hope you'll keep reading; i need more time to write, but i'll keep 'em coming as long as there is an audience for them.
Be well, and truly, thanks again,
sade
4 - Mark Saleski
very nice sadi.
for some reason, this reminds me of the Dar Williams song "Miss You Til I Meet You". (check out the lyrics here)
5 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
thanks, Mark; don't know Dar Williams, but am off to check out the lyrics. Someone hre at BC turned me onto Autour De Lucie (great French pop) and i've got the song Je Reviens stuck in my head.... You should see if you can find it and download if you like that sort of thing. Anyway, always nice to see you around... off to read lyrics. Thanks :)
6 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
Looked at lyrics; i can see what you're saying. They have a nostalgia that would go with this piece ... but i'm still into "Je Reviens" which if you heard it, i think you'd agree... but thanks for the tip. i like what i read. Good stuff.
Must dash; so much work, writing, editing, etc these days - when it rains, right?
Be well, and thanks as ever for reading,
Sade
7 - Shark
Sade, nice piece.
And no offense to "anyone" -- heh -- but any man who would cheat on you is an idiot.
=========
"You don't know what you've got till it's gone. -- Joni Mitchell
8 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
shark shark shark...how good to see you around... glad you like this piece, and how can i thank you for what you say? A thousand thank yous... And yes, Joni Mitchell is right on the money. Thanks for that. u roque... ;-)
9 - tommyd
Autour de Lucie is one of the best bands in the world. "Faux Mouvement" and "Immobile" are two of the greastest recordings that I own.
Je reviens....je reviens....encore....
10 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
hi tommy, then we share this in common. I love both of those songs, but right now am totally into Je Reviens. If you like Autour de Lucie, you should check out Carla Bruni. If there is some secure way to get your email, i'll shoot you over some MP3 files if you're interested. Maybe EO can hook us up? Only if you want - i have a ton of French pop and French rap (which is great). Do you know MC Solaar and the song, Solaar Pleure?
You'd like it, i think.
s.
11 - Shark
I can tell from the photo:
Once you were young.
Forget your old seeds,
the planting, the sifting, the sowing.
That picture is enough for me.
(You've sloughed off skin cells,
hair and hours --
dropped them from your body
like a pile of marble in Rodin's room.
You were bronze, ivory --
a champagne glass of confidence and hormones.
Those are gone now,
lost by the lens
of a long slow life.)
I can tell from the photo:
Once you were alone --
a fresh beret
left by the door,
a poem
on a cafe napkin,
unspoken words on the champs d elysee.
I can tell from the photo:
Once you were sad.
But it was a young sadness --
trying to be serious
when you didn't really know
JUST
HOW
SERIOUS
Life Can Be.
That would come later.
When you met me.
12 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
et la reponse, pour Shark, mon ami...
Serious, yes, head-tipped,
pouted lips sealed, parted slightly
ripe for young kisses, near misses.
All those girls in silks with their
long stick-like legs, how easily
then they fall to you - American
and foreign; no longer in navite
land yet so easily passable.
Accent impeccable. All style, baby.
All style and flash.
You shed pieces of yourself without knowing,
sowing seed uncaring where it goes,
never once hearing the bleating of any child,
thank god. Someone must have loved you.
Surely looked over that shoulder, got your back.
You trace a route through the Jardin Luxembourg,
a trail, traces of skin and hair, in Paris
see everywhere. This is what the young do.
It is the indiscretion of youth, this
and the joy in the moment you believe
that none of this will ever end and that
this moment will last forever.
It is the emotion of the emotive.
The selfishness of selfhood that forgets
all that's been taught and reverts
to the primal, leading lovers to your
garret, to that high-high room
never once thinking of your fiance
at home; of anyone but you. Did they
kneel? Did they pray before you, knees
red, their Roman god, olive-skinned
a statue, your perfect Roman profile.
Did you hear in that moment the click
of your own heart, how the valve caught
on the moment and sent the blood
flowing backward down to rue, all
the way to the Champs Elysees.
13 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
so Shark; can i do the usual and publish the two together on Tant Mieux? We always make a good duo, and i simply adore your poems that you make from my pieces. They're smart - quick. Economical. Everything a poem ought be.
Lemme know.
bisous
s.
14 - Shark
Aw shucks...
Of course, Sadi, my only taste of immortality!
Tag-team poetry is the greatest, ain't it?!
======
"You shed pieces of yourself without knowing,
sowing seed uncaring where it goes,
never once hearing the bleating of any child,
thank god. Someone must have loved you.
Surely looked over that shoulder, got your back." <--- WOW! Love this section!
And the addition of the "thank god" was awesome. Perfect. Profound.
=====
"...how the valve caught
on the moment and sent the blood
flowing backward down to rue, all
the way to the Champs Elysees." <--Whew. Again. Great stuff, Sadi.
15 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
thanks Shark; but you inspired it babe, so take some credit. Will post on tant mieux and send you the link.... i have your email somewhere in here so i'll send along and you can check it out; thanks, as ever, for playing. You are a gifted writer to play with - the only kind worth playing with. Everyone else should leave the sandbox. Rock on and thanks for the inspiration - bisou pour toi. xo s.
16 - swingingpuss
Very nice post, Sadi, you inspired me to reminisce myself
17 - sadi ranson-polizzotti
hey there swingingpuss - good to see you and even more glad that this helped you to do your own reminiscing... that's cool - a chain effect of nostalgia; i love it....
keep on swinging,
sade