Monday, January 27, 2014

THE BALL

She goes to the ball in a sequin studded gown which shimmers with spangles of refracted light. The transformation the fairy godmother has wrought in her is both anodyne and transcendental. She knows she looks beautiful. She knows she is the center of attraction and the fixation of every man whose desire, redolent of unconstrained erotic energy, is manifested in possessing and partaking of even a glance of her iridescent beauty. Yet she has an aura of aloofness that disbars propinquity. Infinitesimal slivers of self consciousness ricochet off her and it is only the prince, arrogant in his self sufficiency who dares to ask her to dance. He has his arm around her, he encircles her waist with fierce possessiveness. She feels embalmed, entombed, interred in his male gaze. She sees in him a mirror of negation, a mirror that would abdicate her self agency and undermine feelings of love that beat in her breast.

There is a check in her being. While propensities of her love for her like churn within the prospect of the dance proves irresistibly oppressive . She can see the sisters envying her and their envy excites her wonder because in the detritus of their discards she may have appeared unprepossessing yet now accoutred splendidly she has become both an object of adoration and a subject of envy. She loves and hates the sisters in equal measure. She can see exiguous conditions forestalling their proclamation of their love for her, a love she discerns palpably through the currents of coruscating sexual energies they exude. The stepmother, their mother, poses the greatest difficulty. Her eldritch meanness disallows any fruition.

They regard cinderella with undisguised sexual excitement. Unembellished by restraints their eyes rove over her physiognomy with wonderment and dazzlement. Her luminousity, unambiguous in the lights the chandelier bounces off redoubles their lust. Their bosoms, accompanied by a realistic awareness of the essential blamelessness susurrates with love. They are and she is irreducibly in love yet it is an unformulated love, a love which language leaves undescribed and indescribable. Indeterminate hieroglyphs glimmer, imbuing with significations here, daubling with tintinnabulating remnants there but the limits of articulateness remain unalterable.

It is in the ripples of unexpressed love that these three women discover love. Their disarticulated  endeavors crystallize into sparks that float and irradiate each others respective selves. They could either actualize the immanent or subsume the latent in repression and self abnegation. Suddenly they are all mirrors proliferating each others images in multitudinous permutations of unclassifiability. Their love which doesn't recognizes boundaries transcends the fetters custom imposes.

The fairy godmother had promised cinderella that her apotheosis would take place at midnight. As the dances converge and partners interchange cinderella and the stepsisters are thrown close together. The clock strikes twelve, cinderella leaves her shoe behind as an expression of showing the prince who saw in her the image of the other that would render him whole, the reminder of his frustrated desire and impotent phallic possessiveness. She is going far far away with the stepsisters. The fairy godmother's carriage awaits them at the palace gates. As the clock tolls the final stroke they fly off to live happily ever after. 

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