Natalie Not Pedantic's Open Salon Blog

Unscene

Fri, 22 Jun 2012 08:06:34 -0400

Face- to- face:-

Chains fragile like floaty webs

woven by tiny black spiders,

but binding like steel.

She rejects as he collects

Fantasy:-

Visions of erotic automata

leather buckled collars-

restrained thighs, watching eyes.

The shackled unScene.

Formula:-

Yes, because he is Numbers

and she is Words;

7 and 11 … Eleventy-Seven.

Another runaway code to implode.

Forever:-

Moving through obstacles,

like the tip of a finger

swirling through honey;

smooth and sweet. Repeat.

The Reading Room

Sat, 28 May 2011 20:05:18 -0400

There is a library within the library at my university where I can go to read first editions of old, old books – among other treasures. You cannot browse here because the collection is hidden away. To look at them you must show identification and tell the guardian the name of the book you want. People do this in low, low whispers out of respect for the tomes entombed in the vault below.

The guardian then disappears down a stairway to run her fingers over leather-bound oysters whose pearls are hidden from all but the very few who search them out. While I wait for her return, I wonder about the forgotten books that nobody asks for.

The echo of dignified footsteps precedes the guardian into the room. Our hands meet over the revered gift in a solemn pact of trust and promise. In the large reading room there are four big, sturdy old desks, each with room for four chairs, and a corner with old leather sofas. There is always room here because the library within a library is never busy; this place is like a secret almost too precious to share.

I invariably choose the sofa. The book in my hands arouses my senses. My eyes roam over the cover – I am forever amazed at the work that must have gone into the binding of very old books. There is always a scent. Sometimes it’s leather, sometimes a soft musk; each book is its own perfume.

The library is silent but for the sound of pages turning oh-so-gently and the occasional soft sigh from my few fellow bibliophiles.

I would live here if I could.

The Bookworm by Carl Spitzweg

Plath and a Needle

Mon, 23 May 2011 04:05:17 -0400

Plath in hand,

needle dangling from the vein.

The dull ache in my chest

shamed into silence

by a sweet, sharp sting.

(Just thought I'd pop in and say hello with something I jotted down on the back of a business card while donating blood this morning)

I've Missed You (well, most of you)

Thu, 15 Apr 2010 21:04:50 -0400

Life has a funny way of interrupting the little time that I have to concentrate on my writing. Some wonderful things have happened over the last couple of months and some terribly devastating things have come along right behind them. That's life though, right? Anyway, apart from a comment here and there, I haven't been around. Did you miss me? Did you even notice I was gone? ;)

I'm going to try to catch up on the PM's I haven't answered and the posts of my friends. If there's anything you've written that you'd like me to know about, just leave a link in the comments and I promise I'll get to it.

Oh and guess WHAT! Some of you may remember the post I wrote about my engagement to Henry Rollins. Henry wasn't aware of our pending nuptials, but I'm here to tell you that things are definitely moving in the right direction. As part of a campaign to raise public awareness about Australia's internet filter, I was asked to email certain celebrities that have expressed concern about internet regulation and invite them to help out with spreading the word. As Henry is coming to Australia, he was one of the celebrities that I emailed. I received a reply a couple of days later, and I have to say, things are looking good for Henry and I. Here is what he wrote:

Natalie, hi. Thanks for the letter. It's a matter I have been thinking about. The thing that is most curious to me is that Australia is the last place to promote such censorship and the last place where the citizenry will tolerate this. I can't see how I will be able to avoid talking about it. Thanks for the site addresses. Henry

Do you feel the love? The passion that overflows from those simple words like lava and ash from an Icelandic volcano? Control yourself, Mr Rollins.

Time

Wed, 24 Feb 2010 18:02:05 -0500

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