Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts
Showing posts with label beauty. Show all posts

Saturday, November 26, 2011

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...can’t complain too much about going barefoot on the beach the day before Thanksgiving...even in long pants, t-shirt and sweater under rain jacket, knit cap under hood...just a few drops falling, blown by wind that, along with the tides, has so dramatically shaped hills and runnels in the sand...clouds light, dark, and in between, seeming to move in all directions at once...a bundle of half deflated party balloons floating past unintentional driftwood sculpture into the waves as I move slowly along....finally deciding to turn, head inland, put shoes and socks back on to walk the road back....some kinds of beauty can only be taken in for so long...

Saturday, July 26, 2008

Vanity, Vanity, All Is...Beauty Tips From a Yoga Cynic

It’s said that Persian rug weavers intentionally weave imperfections into their rugs, since only God can be perfect. With all due respect to their spiritual humility, I can do even better: I can be imperfect without even trying.

He believes in beauty, he’s Venus as a boy....
Bjork

People often ask “how do you manage to be so good-looking?” “How can you stand to be such a stud? and” “Doesn’t it hurt to constantly exude such overwhelming manly beauty?” A hundred years ago, apparent-expert-on-the-female-experience William Butler Yeats wrote: “'To be born woman is to know-Although they do not talk of it at school-That we must labour to be beautiful.’” In these metrosexual times, however, it’s not just women doing the laboring.

Of course, as any yoga teacher worth the studio fee will tell you, it’s inner beauty that counts. Well, lemme tell ya, I got that inner beauty shit out the wazoo—it’s oozing out my pores to the point that it not only radiates outward but gives me acne, shingles, and psoriasis in the process. I spread joy and love like a $5 gigolo spreads...you get the idea.

Beauty is only skin deep, but ugly goes clean to the bone.
Dorothy Parker

Nonetheless, let’s face it, there’s more to beauty than that: there are consultants, loads of expensive brand name products, and, of course, my personal studliness advisor and cosmetic surgeon, Dr. Julio. What do the babes want? Having consulted a range of well known studs including Paul Giamatti, James Gandolfini, Rush Limbaugh, and Karl Rove, I narrowed it down to the following: 1) there’s no sign of virility like a receding hairline, 2) they don’t call ‘em love handles for nothin’, and 3) need I explain the masculine appeal of a big, hairy butt? As such, my status as a babe magnet owes everything to Dr. Julio. (Then, considering all he owes to the cash I’ve laid out for 563 distinct cosmetic procedures—his Aspen condo, 150 ft. yacht, cocaine addiction, and lengthy stints dealing with said addiction in exclusive rehab facilities where he got to do group therapy with movie stars—I’d say it all evens out. Balance is everything). Having quite effectively moved hair from forehead to lower regions, Dr. Julio did his most significant work using the medical miracle known as reverse liposuction. I won’t go too much into the gory details of this procedure, but will point out that, while it might seem to go against all that all-natural holistic yoga stuff, there is nothing that makes me feel more connected with my fellow human beings than the knowledge that a significant portion of what is now me resided not long ago inside the voluminous thighs of a bank manager from San Jose....

Beauty—be not caused—It Is—
Chase it, and it ceases—
Chase it not, and it abides—

Overtake the Creases

In the Meadow—when the Wind
Runs his fingers thro' it—
Deity will see to it
That You never do it—
Emily Dickinson

Everything has beauty, but not everyone sees it.
Confucius