Wedding Part 1

The Wedding, The Wedding, The Wedding.
As a little aperitif I submit Ariadne's triumphant procession to the altar. Xavier appears and then so do I (they are both a little put out by my appearance)

The Aura, The Axolotyl and the Astroscan

Well as I described, Norma Jean and I had been busying ourselves with Ariadne's dress. Samples were sewn, drawings were coloured, maquettes were constructed and tinsel liberally applied. Finally Ariadne was summoned for a fitting. We did try so hard to fulfill her declaration that her dress should forever stretch the boundary between the idea of a dress and the great beyond.
Sadly however she was crushingly, devastatingly, vocally, (shall I say hysterically? Yes I shall) hysterically disappointed. She wailed, she threw fabric samples across the room, she flourished her hankie and thoroughly upset poor Hieronymous, and I will admit rather discomposed us too.
So after she was pacified with tea and another goodie from Marguerite Patten, Ginger Prune Crunch (which Norma Jean remarked later might also help dislodge any unwelcome 'humours'), she went home and we were left dispirited.
All our labours and inspiration for naught. How could our collective creative sensibilities have gone so astray? Norma Jean said perhaps we should not have asked Hieronymous to choose the colours, but I said no, he was an excellent judge of hue. The fault must lie with our interpretation of her Idea. (I actually believe that having eschewed a traditional dress Ariadne now regrets this hasty rebellion and wishes to be 'beautiful'.)
So downcast were we, we could not face a new beginning (even despite the enlivening effects of the Ginger Prune Crunch). Norma Jean, ever resourceful being that she is, declared,
“Found dear man we must have some distraction” and produced a leaflet entitled 'Mind Body Spirit Festival Guide'.
So to this munificent gathering of all things eccentric, earnest and eternally hopeful we ventured. Hieronymous showed signs of great animation in his small 'carry tank' (made for Norma Jean by Hugo it resembles a little pink handbag with glass sides front and back.)
The aisles were crowded and the stalls closely packed. The haunting melody of pan pipes could be heard from a distant stage and the queue for Psychic Readings was disconcertingly long. Norma Jean pulled me past it saying
“We have Marguerite Patten and Constance Spry and we need no others.”
Norma Jean found a stall with gloriously chromatic clothes and was quite charmed by the proprietress who greeted her with the welcome words
“In my range you are a size small” which are not words I gather she hears often.
As she basked in this phenomenon I wandered past a stall selling majestic chunks of crystal and glittering racks of gemstone necklaces. I gravitated into Aura Photography. The price was high, too high for me really, but the temptation to view my own halo was too great. I sat before the mystical camera and placed my hand on a metal plate. I swear I felt the tingle of otherworldly presences pass through my mortal flesh as I sat there. I was pleased to discover myself aglow with a greenish haze leading to yellow flashes and what appeared to be a purple firework fountaining from the top of my head. The vendor handed me the photo rather reverently and I swear the other patrons seemed put out.
“They just have Aura Envy” said Norma Jean loudly as she shuffled me out, now gloriously robed in fuchsia pink.
We sipped on Pomegranate juice and nibbled Buddah cakes. We were discoursed on Enlightenment and the Way. We were assessed by spiritual advisors and Reiki masters, we were dosed with wheatgrass and ritually purified with sage smoke (this last seemed to distress Hieronymous. “It's the karma don't you know” said Norma Jean cryptically.)
Finally we finished with full spectrum light therapy, which cheered us up no end (a yellow light was shone onto our upturned faces and we felt like sunflowers). I was sorely tempted by the flashing electro 1970's inspired panel that was the Astroscan but the spruiker scared Hieronymous by tapping on his carry tank and declaring “This old boy needs a scan” and blowing a puff of cigar smoke at his glass. We decided it was time to go.
So we went back to Norma Jean's, only to find Ariadne waiting on the doorstep, flowers in hand and full of chagrin.
"I was wrong, so wrong my dear friends" she said, whereupon Norma Jean enveloped her in a fuchsia pink embrace and said "Now now dear heart, let's us go in and make you Beautiful". And so we did, as you shall see when I report on the wedding.

An Axolotyl's Dream

The Anonymous Patron has summoned me to his lair at the Gentleman's Club 'Stag on the Moor'. I must admit a certain degree of trepidation. I have not as yet furnished him with a proposal for another film, though I do have a vision.
All thoughts of film making must stand aside for the spectacle, the undertaking, the broo ha ha that is the wedding of my friend Xavier to his bride Ariadne. I am to be Xavier's best man, I am proud to say, and am also assisting Ariadne in her quest for the perfect costume statement. Well her recent comment will give some idea what this latter task involves,
“Found dear friend, this is not merely a dress, or rather, the notion of 'dress' is to be pushed into territory so new and exciting as to stretch the parameters of that word to their limits, where 'dress' dissolves into something else and offers the viewer a farther vista, a new Universe forever changed. For it is not just a dress, it is a moment, a gift, an offering to my sweet Xavier of all that he is and is to me...”
Well, the farther vista, the vast Universe, the archetypal statement are our themes and Ariadne is our canvas. Norma Jean and I have been spending some time together armed with pin cushions and sturdy sewing scissors, pattern making paper and colour charts. We find ourselves wondering whether papier mache can be fashioned finely enough? Do we need an expert on beading? What are the mathematical equations that govern the flow of waterfalls? Where can one find inexpensive aquamarine sequins? How to transpose the exact dimensions of Philip Astley's famous Circus, whether the original 62 foot or the later 42 foot?
Through it all Hieronymous is our faithful watch Axolotyl. He seems preternaturally engaged in the whole procedure, watching us from his tank as we work at Norma Jean's friendly kitchen table. When I remarked as much Norma Jean replied,
“Oh yes, Hieronymous reincarnated from the 18th Century and was in fact a milliner, so he takes quite an interest in my sewing” whereupon I replied that he was rather fortunate to be living with a person whose interests so mirrored his own.
“Indeed” said Norma Jean “although you know these things are rarely accidental”
Later as I prepared myself for sleep in my rooms, I found myself pondering whether life as an Axolotyl in Norma Jean's kitchen represented a karmic back or forward step and decided she is such a dear woman it could only be the latter.