Post by JEAN ALEXIS PROUVAIRE on Apr 3, 2013 1:48:05 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #7a9aa9, bTable][tr][cs=2] jean alexis prouvaire. twenty-four. les amis. alistair bramer. | |
[rs=2] | "Sing to me of the man, Muse, the man of twists and turns driven time and again off course, once he had plundered the hallowed heights of..." Okay.. Not mine. Homer's. But isn't it such an amazing verse!? How could I help but begin my story with it? It's oddly fiting given the current situation too. Just insert Paris for Troy and.. well.. okay. I'll move on. This is just a small collection of thoughts about my life and my history - a journal, were it.. but a very odd one. The journal of a poet. I suppose I'd better tell you a little about myself before I say much more though, or you might be awfully confused. ______ Home has always been in the exact same place. In the Bordeaux wine region on the edge of the outlet of the Gironde Estuary leading to the Atlantic Ocean which is within about an hour's carriage ride or horseback from our home. Bordeaux is picturesque grape growing, wine producing region in France. Our estate is no exception with fields and fields of rich, lustrous grapes ready for harvest and production into some of the finest wine in all France for use here as fine wine and export to places unknown. The vineyard opens up behind the house which is surrounded by an immaculately groomed garden with grass, shrubs, and flower beds, and beautiful tall trees. This place is my muse... or one of many muses - but it was my first muse, and my only real home. As such, it holds a special place in my heart, and I feel fortunate whenever I am lucky enough to spend time there. The house itself has a large patio in the back, built up to the French doors and surrounded by bushes such that the lattice work is barely visible through them. The house is an old, white-stoned manor house with pale greenish-blue shutters which cover the paned picture windows which extend along the back of the house through which one could view the ballroom, the library, and our family room. There are other rooms of course - those are just the ones with the most picturesque view on that floor. There is a second storey as well as an atic and a comfortable cellar for our devoted servants whom we count as family. Many of them have been with the family since my birth. There is of course a barn for our horses - those for riding pleasure and work, and a carriage house for the carriages and tack. I suppose, however, it is not the appearances which make up a home - but those people which surround it and fill it. Those, I must tell of right away, for they are important to me. Of course, I already mentioned our servants. In addition to them, there are dearest Mama and Papa. Papa and I are quite affectionate with each other and get along reasonably well, though I know my interest in the revolutionaries pains him. For a long time he saw it as rejecting my status and my rightful king. However, that is not the issue - more on that later. However, we have mended our difficulties and remain close and discuss most everything. Papa can never hope to understand my passions nor, I suppose, can I hope to understand his - at least not thoroughly. However, we get along, and I do not know what I would do without him. He has been a source of solace through the trials of university and of life. Mama is a dear as well. I could not exist without her I am quite certain. She is, I used to believe, the most beautiful woman in all of France - not even rivaled by de Rothschild's wife! Her skin is perfectly fair and, in the sun, her red-gold hair shines like threads of gold spun on a spindle, her blue eyes the softness of paint on a palette meant for the sky of my canvas in Master Roisoin's art classes. Mama understands me perfectly and has from the time I was a boy. She is forever asking me to show her my sketches and read her my verses and has endless patience for my waxing poetic about everything beautiful and wonderful in God's green earth. She is, to me, the epitome of a perfect woman. As a boy, I swore I would marry her. I have refined my search to include only women equal to her - thus far that is a quite small pool. Also in my family are my three sisters. The eldest is Élise who is barely ten months older than me. Élise is a wonderful lady, elegant and refined. She is the closest I know to Mama - but of course is not an candidate as she is my sister and has plenty of beaux. I think she will marry soon - for though she has not it certainly has not been for lack of suitors! Her dance cards are constantly filled and she's quite intelligent as well. Next is Victoire who is eleven. Mama calls her our little lady. She spends the majority of her time playing piano and refining her painting skills. She's going to grow up into quite the beauty and already fancies herself old enough for parties and balls. However, she is truly a sweetheart if a little shyer than Élise, who is more of a social butterfly really. And last, but certainly not least, is our Simone, who is eight. She's the sweetest of my sisters. One would have to work to find anything about her not to like. Her round little face practically beams like the sun when excited, and she enjoys very much to play with her kittens (she received two for her birthday) and to have tea parties on the patio with her dolls - to which I am party when I am home from France. She now thinks this is a very important step because I am 'A man' now. Then there is me, Jean, though Jehan for the more poetic form. Perhaps my mother calling me that from my earliest memories is what turned me into such a poet. I was born on a beautiful spring morning - April 26th - at about 10:30. Mama told me that my birth was much easier than Élise's, so I must have wanted to be a sweet boy. I'm not sure of that, but I did enter the world with little fuss, and my father was in rapture to have his one and only son. He loves my sisters too - but there's just something special about a man having his first son. This year I turned twenty-four, and have turned into a grown up, a student, and have a flat in Paris - but that place is home. The memories of my idyllic childhood going to the ocean and playing with my sisters and worshipping my mother and idolizing my father will never leave me. Of course, I could not stay at home in that idyllic world forever. By the time I was eight, I had a tutor and was receiving lessons, and before long riding lessons as well. It soon became evident that I had talent as a student and with music and arts and the like. Before I knew it, I was off to the Latin Quartier with all of the other students at university - accepted into the faculty of arts to study languages, literature, poetry, painting, and music to my heart's content. What could be more amazing!? I feel so fortunate to be given such opportunities as that. I miss home while I am in Paris, but my family is here often enough as the girls grow older. While I am away, I write them long letters and special verses for the little girls, which I enclose with candy from the most wonderful candy shops in the city. I can imagine their scampering feet and squals as they unwrap peppermint sticks, lemon drops, and chocolates. ___________ I suppose, being a poet, it's very important for me to tell you of that which led me to writing it. And truth be told.. I do not know what makes me a poet. However, I feel as if there is some portal inside of me which opens to another world - not a sinister one.. but one of the words of poets - of romantics. And at the slightest moment, at any time, so many words can gather at that doorway struggling to get out onto my paper. It is the most wonderful, horrible experience in the world, truly, with so much to say and the time feeling so pressing - as if I won't have all of the time I need to get them out and share them. I feel enslaved to the words in my soul, scrambling to get out into the world. I first discovered my need to write poetry from the time I was a small boy. Mama used to read me poems before bedtime - I suppose it just came naturally. From almost as soon as I was able to write, the words just seemed to come - and they came in verse. It was as natural as breathing, as lying on one's back in a grassy field on a warm sunny day and just being at one with the world around you. For me, poetry is the essence of life. I see life in the words I pen. I feel life in every poem I write. If there should ever be a day I couldn't write poetry, I would surely die. Okay.. maybe not. Just testing the romanticism there. The point is.. I don't exactly know what made me a poet, but I know the words are in me for a reason, and I love nothing more than to sit down with a nice piece of paper, a pen, and ink, and write. C'est la Vie! As far as reading poetry - I do a lot of that too, as you might expect. I like Dante, Juvenal, Aeschylus, and Isaiah - and I learned Italian, Latin, Greek, and Hebrew to read them. I'm fluent in all of those, as well as French of course. I know a little English for the same purpose - but I do not consider myself fluent in it - yet. It will come with time. As far as French poets - which I consider to be a whole other category as they share my nationality - I prefer Corneille and Agrippa. _________ Poetry is next to Godliness? okay that's cleanliness but whatever. It's a corny transition. God.. He confounds me. I cannot pretend to understand the mysteries by whence He rules the world. I do believe in God though, that much I can say for certain. I go to mass on a fairly regular basis - though sometimes other things prevent it. I think about the matters of God regularly, but I cannot claim to understand them. I find the mysteries of God as intoxicating as alcohol - I wish I could understand them, but the divine is not for the human to know - so I suppose I'd better stick to my poetry. That much, at least, I can make sense of. I do believe that God and the future are inexorably entertwined - though how it all works, again, I cannot claim to know. I look for God in the future, and see the future in God... I suppose. ___________ The next thing you probably want to know is my feelings for my country - which are great. France is mighty; she is strong; she is my homeland and she is in me and I am in her connected. I'm a patriot for sure. I'm so proud of my homeland, and I want her to stand up strong and be free of all the evils which have befallen her in recent decades. I'm ready to shake off this mantle of discontent and shame before the world which shows we can't get our government straight and show them all how marvelous France really is. I also enjoy seeing other parts of France. I was obsessed with the hustle and bustle of Paris as a small boy who only knew the southwest French coast. I hope to travel to every major city in the country one day. It will take time of course.. but.. I already have a map to keep track of my travels. I've been sneaking Mama's sewing pins a few at a time when I visit home and taking them back to stick on the map. So far, she hasn't noticed they're gone. Of course, I like to travel other places in the world, but.. that's a whole other story. I love my country and my culture and all the things that make France uniquely France - from our language, to our holidays, to our customs.. It should be no surprise, then, that I'm concerned with the state of my country and the people. I suppose you could always say I've had a bit of a soft heart. When I was five years old, I found a baby bird in the yard and insisted on nursing it back to health myself. The French people are something like this in my mind - they must be nurtured, encouraged to flourish and grow and recover from their horrible experiences. Sadly, I do not think the bad times are over but beginning. I love the French people and feel their plight more than many others I suppose. Conditions here are not only regrettable, but must improve. People live in the streets and starve, freeze in the winter. Our women are in danger in these conditions and cannot become the beautiful creatures God intended for them to be because of their extreme suffering and the suffering of their families. Children work long and hard days and only the wealthy can afford an education which just perpetuates the ugly situation. I feel for them. They deserve to have more than their parents. Who was to say I would be any less worthy of my Dante if I were a poor boy? Everyone should have an opportunity to learn - what they then do with that learning is up to them. Their parents suffer too. One who has never had the thankless task of working in a factory can never hope to understand it - that probably includes me - or so I've been told by my dearest Christophe Feuilly. I'm sure he knows. I feel for them. Their lives are sad (in a not even romantic kind of way! - though a good poem could be made romanticizing it. I can visualize it. It would be a great novel about a man and a woman who worked in a factory and did without just so they could be together because their love was so strong that they couldn't bear to be separated from each other or they would surely...... Okay.. Stopping now.) I feel women's plights too.. No one cares for their rights or pays attention to what they need or want. They deserve more respect and admiration for all they put up with. Once my sisters laced me into a corset so I would have empathy for them. It was the most dreadful experience. I have only the utmost respect for women now and all they put up with. They're wise and should be listened to - and I don't care if not many people agree with me. I'm in love with people and life and society at large. As far as my political beliefs.. I suppose I must explain that I am not, inherantly, anti-monarchist despite my association and loyalty to mes amis. I'm something of a royalist because it's romantic. I like kings.. but I do not think they're currently what France needs - at least the last string of kings/emperors/what have you haven't done anything for us. The situation is going from bad to worse. Before long, the country will be in civil war and the economy will continue to worsen if things do not change. I want change. A change is necessary, and I will support whomever is willing to bring it about - provided they're not ridiculously radical of course but.. within reason.. and that includes people who don't want a king at all. Perhaps they're not incorrect. Perhaps a king, who is merely a human, cannot ever hope to put his human needs and faults aside to rule an entire country. Would it lead me to revolution? Maybe.. Though I am aggrieved that this revolution has caused the loss of Chernier's life. Poets should not die in revolutions.. ___________ Being such a romantic and a poet, it's not at all surprising that you want to know how I feel on the matter of love. I simply must say that I eat it, breathe it, dream it, and need it as a part of every fiber in my being. I need love as much as I need air - truly. Love is a wonderful thing. I am in love with being in love. I am in love with the idea of love. I'm good at being in love too.. you see, I've had many great loves in my life - all with my eyes alone. I use my fine manners and my charisma to befriend and flirt with women just a little bit. I enjoy that greatly. However, I'm far too shy to go much beyond that. I'm not.. progressive.. about my feelings for women. I'm just not that kind of man. I like to win a woman's affection with my words and smile.. not much else.. but then I don't usually go beyond that flirting stage.. I'm bad about that.. I'm much too shy as I said. I just think about all the bad things like what if she says no. I've never had a serious relationship or even.. you know. Christophe is younger than me and he's got more experience - with more than that aspect of life too. I write much of my poetry for women, and about love - of course. However, the closest I've ever had to love is childhood crushes and loves I played out in the great stages of my mind. I hope to move beyond that someday, but.. how to get to that point is beyond me. The closest I've ever come was persuading one of the young maids into bed purely so I could figure out the logistics of what it feels like to lay next to a girl.. Nothing else. That was embarrassing. My father found out and.. he wasn't too happy about it. I'm not sure he believed we weren't doing anything at all. ___________ As far as my likes and dislikes.. I suppose that's simple enough. I'll give you an overview - might give you some insight into my personality I suppose. Of course I adore poetry - but I've waxed poetic (pardon the pun) about that enough so far. And I like to be in love.. but.. again same with that. Another passion includes food. I adore food from all different cuisines and countries around the world. However, I suppose it's important to mention that I don't eat meat - I'm a vegetarian. I've got a little aversion to taking a life just so I can eat. I'll eat meat rarely - on a special occasion - but it's rare. I will do milk and eggs and such though. I don't see any reason not to use products that aren't hurting the animal anyway - besides.. I couldn't survive without milk. I love it - crisp and cold from the glass bottle onto my cereal or in my coffee in the morning. Yum. Or.. better yet.. if I'm home straight from Bessie into my mouth and a squirt for the cat. (We do keep some farm animals to provide ourselves with butter, eggs, etc). I enjoy having a hand in producing that food. I enjoy gardening and growing things up out of the fresh earth. I like to see the fruits of my labors spring up. I particularly kind of enjoy growing flowers too even though they're not as useful - they're pretty though! I try to grow flowers in the windowsill of my flat in Paris. That doesn't work horribly well a lot of times. I tend to forget to water them as much as I should with my studies. Whoops. I also love animals a great deal. I'd like very much to get a cat soon. And I like to play the flute. I could have tried to get in the conservatory - but my most true love is with literature. I could not turn the opportunity to read and write stories and poems all day long. However, I shall never stop playing the flute for fun at least. I'm not beyond playing on the street corners for the sheer joy in it even. Some people say I'm wise - I don't know about that - just well read. And you know, of course, that I love the countryside with green rolling hills. I would say my muse stirs strongest there, but the bustle of Paris cannot be denied either. At night, I love to study the stars and the planets. I've loved it ever since, as a boy, I was given a simple telescope. Sometimes I like clothes and fashion too. But only sometimes. Some of the boys consider me a bit of a dandy - though I'm not as bad as Bahorel! I enjoy buying and wearing clothes and looking elegant. However, when I'm concerned with poetry, I'm afraid all that goes right out of my head and I forget about everything but the words on the page. But.. most of the time.. I like looking nice and keeping up with fashion and well.. looking.. fancy.. Shut up - I know you're laughing at me. I guess you don't know what I look like otherwise. I suppose I'm kind of obvious.. some people say I'm good looking, though I don't know about that. I have wavy blondish hair. the wavy part I get from my mother. It's quite thick as well, and sometimes I keep it a litle long - though not really long. - bright blue eyes too. I do wear the fashionable sideburns, but I keep them trimmed really neatly and short - so you can barely notice them. At times I can be oddly bold - especially when reading or reciting - but at other times, like with girls, really timid. Not sure why that is.. Another hobby is mythology - just another poem! As a boy, I tried to memorize all the Greek and Roman Gods and pieces of their stories. I'll argue for the Gods and try to say they still exist when we're in the ABC Cafe - if only because it's a romantic notion that there are still signs of their presence in daily life if we look. Of course I enjoy debates. My friends say I fence with words rather than a foil. Perhaps it's true. Oh.. I was supposed to be talking about dislikes.. I don't have that many. I don't like seeing people or animals treated badly. I don't like much violence - especially if it hurts innocent people. I don't like the restriction of free speech or thought. I don't like women being treated less or unfairly.. |
beck. 22. ash reffed me. |
