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CALLASSA
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Who is Callassa?
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After the Interlude
So what did you think of that? I would say it touched on the question of who is CALLASSA in rather a dramatic and controversial way. Let me say though that I do not think there were many other ways I could have presented it so to capture the ‘otherness’ that does surround. What otherness you might justifiably ask. Well let’s talk about that if you would like. Callassa. Callassa. Do you think she is different in extreme ways, more so now than when we began? Well that’s a good question (being asked if are they aliens?) and we could address that very quickly here if you want. Would you like that as an unintended aside? Hmmm. To be honest with you I think it is a question that deserves far more than a brief address. What about we address it next talk? I can get down to it then. Well, I shall briefly say something now. Have you seen ****** over there, he is into the subject so I guess I will have to say something, but remain within the focus of the book. This is easy for me to do because this is what the mystery is about.
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We have to keep topped up the requirement for more emotive depth and fascination. This is important and it is why you are here. We could talk about assembling kitchen cabinets or the fine art of carpentry as it pertains to holding up a garden fence, or whatever else but I can see that is not what you want. I don’t know much about that kind of thing anyway. No disrespect intended to those who do.
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Going back to the question of Callassa, Lawrence and the others being aliens, you know brings with it a semantic issue. The word ‘alien’ conjures in your thoughts what does not accord with the characters and importantly does not accord with the question: Who is CALLASSA?
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That’s got you going. Why? Are we thinking of aliens wrongly?
Or should I say; Are you?
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You already have a ready-made answer to the question ‘what are aliens’ and it is made from snippets of this and of that. The movies are the main culprit because they assume a biological concept and one often not too far removed from humans and this is what people assume. But think about what you do not have a ready-made answer for. Think about what this might suggest. Are you thinking? Good. I have to say that what we might well be accused of here is taking away what you are used to and replacing it with mere paradox, but we have not arrived at where we are going yet. What conditions need to be met before the ‘suggesting’ becomes something else? Think about that too for a while because I have to consider where to go with this.
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So we are going to leave the topic of aliens to another evening? Good. Let me read something more from ‘Big Eyes and Bluebell Woods’. It is where Lawrence is watching Callassa dress for a dinner party. I think it is interesting to note that now you know they are very much more than human what this means for their very worldly (glamorous, romantic and artistic) inclinations. Well, I will read it;
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I was ‘assisting’ her dressing.
“Who are the guests?” I asked, while watching her. She was wearing
her robe and throwing the tenth dress onto the bed.
Ignoring my question, she held up another and asked, “What do
you think of this?” She was obviously deeply preoccupied and I wanted her to relax.
“I like it. The colour matches your hair. All right then, it does not.”
“It’s mediocre,” she said.
The dress was thrown uncaringly onto the pile which had quickly
grown. Why she had bought it in the first place was a good question, but not one to ask.
She took another from the boxes which had been sent from Milan.
This one was a crème coloured bustier dress, with silver and gold beadwork.
(I knew because she’d told me). When she held it up, I saw that it also had horizontal stripes,
which, with the sparkling beadwork pattern, made the dress a dream.
“Hmmmm,” she said, holding it so that the light from the chandelier
caught its intricate and subtle hues. After another and more prolonged, ‘Hmmmmm,’
the dress was cast onto the pile.
“Great One, surely that one is not mediocre?”
“Sedate,” came the reply.
I knew that she would disregard my opinion, so I waited eagerly for the next offering.
“I just wanted to show you this,” she said, having stood up from
her kneeling position. The item she was holding was two garments, a
dress and matching jacket. After she had held them up it took my eyes a
few seconds to recover from their brightness.
“Well?” she asked.
“I’m kind of speechless,” I told her. I was looking at an extremely
bright silver and yellow striped outfit. The stripes were horizontal
and their silver colour, I came to see, was made from tiny mirror finished segments.
On each shoulder epaulette were yellow and silver feathers.
“See, it really looks like a one-piece,” she said, “I have a silver
belt too, and there is a fez to match, but I don’t want to mess up my hair.”
“Just out of curiosity, what is your opinion?” I asked her because I really was curious to know.
While laughing, she said, “It is ‘praesertim’.”
“Yes, you could say that is ‘special’. I would say that it is
very special, but you wearing it would make it even more so. Ha!”
“I shall wear it while we are together on vacation,” so came her declaration and
while casting the most ostentatious garment I had ever seen onto the pile.
“Callassa, I think you should wear that one,” I told her, feeling
disappointed that she would not be.
Now having exhausted the boxes of undeniably exquisite Milanese couture,
she opened the door to her walk-in wardrobe and disappeared.
On closer inspection I saw that the delightfully ostentatious outfit that
she was not going to wear also had cherubs embroidered onto the yellow horizontal stripes.
“Well?” she said, having appeared from her wardrobe, brandishing
something very different, but equally eye-catching. I was looking at a
navy-blue velvet, bustier dress, emblazoned with black embroidery.
Around the collar were silver diamantes in the same mermaid pattern
as the black embroidery. This was, I thought, sophisticatedly Victorian
and perfectly fitting for the character of Bluebell Woods.
It also looked expensive in the far extreme.
“Please, don’t tell anyone honey, but the diamonds on this dress
are real. They cost much, much, much.”
Judging by the satisfied glance she was now displaying, I assumed
that she had made her choice. It was, I thought, a splendid choice at that.
I noticed that she was wearing black pearls in her hair.
They were arranged in circles around where her hair had been meticulously
gathered around and around to become the bunne-style which suited her the best.
“Which perfume?” she asked me, having discarded her gown. She
was standing in her yellow silk lingerie and rummaging through the
drawer of her dressing table.
“What are the choices?” I asked in response.
“Well, there’s this one, Eau de Werther. Which has, I think, a
heavy perfume of woodland fog and a hint of winter heather.
Here see, what do you think?”
She sprayed the perfume into the air. Her assessment of it had
been correct because now there was an ambience that made me think of
the early morning walks in the woods. It was seductive, enticing and
made me want more.
“Whichever you choose for me, you can wear the same,” she said and
while looking toward me with a smile.
“Ha! Someone might guess that I am wearing your perfume and move
on from there.”
“As if that matters. Remember our vacation cruise, aboard The
Nereus. I made sure that you wore my perfume then. Just so all those
women would know that you belonged to me. My property.”
“Shhhhh. Someone might hear you.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha. Do you like this perfume? It’s very rare. I bought
it on the Rue de Rivoli, in Paris, a long time ago. It’s called, Pica.
Bring your nose closer. Hurry.”
The tiny bottle of perfume she was holding was in the shape of a
bird, in fact a magpie. She poured some onto the back of her hand and gestured
for me to inhale. My first impression was that it had a rather weak
fragrance, but suddenly I knew otherwise. Its effect had a kind of
delay associated with it, then the full force was delivered.
“Tell me, quickly,” she demanded, holding out her arm.
“I would say that……”
“No time left, I have to rush. Do you like it?”
“I certainly do,” I told her, wondering what effect it might have
on others, especially as I was supposed to be wearing it too? The
perfume was very difficult to describe. It appeared to me like the
salty, ocean waters on a very hot and sunny day, but with a meandering
breath of something else. She retrieved her hand before I had the opportunity
to think more about what might be in it.
“It will do,” she said. “You can put some on me when I have
showered and, my sweet honey treat, I can put some on you too.”
“I think that idolatry is a dying trend.”
“It depends on who it is you are idolising,” she replied.
“I take back the comment. Idolatry of the female is the only reason
for the existence of human male gender.”
“That’s better honey… But it’s not the case. You should get out
more and see. Now, you get ready.”
She laughed and began putting on her robe. Unlike her, my attire,
it seemed, was more pre-defined, it being, black tie. However, I did
have a silk waistcoat with a circular black pattern, boring really.
My display would go nowhere near that of hers. But had anyone? Ever?
“Honey, let me just tell you that when I bought that perfume I
did so because I actually thought that it was speaking to me. It’s
true. It has a voice.”
“I like that. I’m looking forward to putting it on….You, that is,
listening to it as well.”
“Hurry. Hurry. I can hear people.”
With that statement, she dashed from the bedroom and in the
direction of her bathroom. It was apparent that the evening was soon to begin.
I wanted to know what the perfume had said, but I wouldn’t be able to,
unless it spoke to me. Speaking perfumes…Hmmm.
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copyright © 2023. Callassa Media Company
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So there you have it. Have we come a trite closer to a familiarity with who CALLASSA is? I wonder and conclude; not really. Familiarity does not necessarily involve understanding and I shall say this; I don’t know who CALLASSA is. This is because I can’t know and nor can anyone else. Does that sound strange, mysterious? But is not mystery the mainstay of everything we have familiarity with? Do we have anything more than is merely a shared subjectivity? This, based on a limited, evolved capacity to make sense of where we are? Within this, what does it say for rejecting certain scenarios in favour of readily accepting others?
I know … I know … You are thinking we are just talking about characters in a book and these being products of a furtive imagination. If that is the case and you feel at home there, it is no problem. Whatever anyone does think there is the facility for limitless discussion because … Perhaps I ought not to get into this? I have to say I can’t resist. I just can’t.
I am also thinking about the plethora of ‘stuff’ pertaining to the subject of extra-terrestrials, aliens and so on and so forth. It is a subject of immense fascination as you know. So next time we will discuss whether … What do you think we should name the talk? Is CALLASSA an alien? Not with respect to what was just said because asking that invites a predefinition and there isn’t one. It also invites the accusation of what is said as being merely crazy banter. What do you think?
Are we a front for something else?
Regarding the latter, such accusation has of course been tendered. All I shall say is that our owning the skills to bother people, to raise insecurity and malcontent is undeniable.
How many have claimed something to be the case and what said subsequently being not worthy of consideration? How many could actually prove what they seem to have a stake in? Has anyone ever? The latter is the most important and in fact, the only consideration which is why nothing said by anyone hitherto on the topic is anything but fantasy, more, pointless noise. I draw your attention to this because if we were to begin at this point, the theatre doors would remain permanently open … our performing being wholly different than what words alone can conjure. The capacity for regarding Callassa would become one of uniqueness, even to some, of fear. This is not what we intend.
A further question; one’s putting face to something does not necessarily mean the face reflects the truth, only that something becomes relatable. What, with regard to the book ‘Big Eyes and Bluebell Woods’, does this mean though for who Callassa is, and who or what she is communing with?
What if anything does it mean for the question; Who is Callassa? Why even approach the question in this manner, this direction?
We should also discuss ‘Translucent Haze’ because Callassa is the central feature. I could say ‘character’ but it does not achieve the fullness of her at all. If certain statements, articles, books and so on are regarded as being somewhat incendiary then Translucent Haze is an atomic bomb. Barry who lives near San Francisco is in love with Callassa but, well……next time.
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Be happy and until next time. I wish you good-bye and take care. More questions?
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CALLASSA
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Callassa Media Company
Invicta Veritate
MMXXIII
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WHO IS CALLASSA?
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