Queen: "Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?
Magic Mirror: "Famed is thy beauty, Majesty. But hold, a lovely maid I see. Rags cannot hide her gentle grace. Alas, she is more fair than thee.
Queen: "Alas for her! Reveal her name.
Magic Mirror: "Lips red as the rose. Hair black as ebony. Skin white as snow.
Queen: "Snow White!"
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937)
I was remarking the other day that I have placed a mirror, either large or small, in every room of our apartment, including the corridors. Now lest you think that either Devi or me is excessively vain, rest assured that is not the case, even though the mirror in the salon has "gentil miroir" written upon it to inspire reflection (pun entirely intended). The mirror placements are intended to give an exit for any wandering spirit that may happen into any particular room. "Wot?" you say to yourself, "'as the guv'nor lost 'is mind?" Indeed I have not, gentle reader, for it has long been known that mirrors are magical things, not merely giving back a reflection but acting as numinous gateways to other realities, states of being or consciousness, fantasies, dreams, even shifts in time/space or psychology (read your Lacan). For me, however, they function primarily as exits for influences or spirits that may enter a room or space by other means and are then trapped therein with no way out - thus the mirrors. Portals for the non-natural (I do not really like the word 'supernatural' as it implies 'better than natural') elements in our world, our cosmos, to leave easily and freely without feeling constrained or claustrophobic. Imagine a wild animal trapped in a small, enclosed space and you will have an accurate simile; it will do anything, including harming itself, to escape, or more importantly, harming any other living thing within the same space, as it may/will see the 'other' as the cause of its distress. This will, of course, raise the question, "What others, what spirits?" If you have never experienced the feeling that something is in a room with you that you cannot see, or glimpsed something out of the corner of your eye that is not three-dimensionally there in plain sight, then it is nearly impossible to explain, but it does happen regularly and often to a majority of people. Your pets notice this more often than do you. I do not necessarily speak of ghosts but rather 'elements', or perhaps 'elementals', that come and go and shift and glide through our inhabited dimensions with the ease with which we pass from the inside of a building to the exterior, from an air-conditioned space to natural atmospheric conditions. I have noticed these 'comings & goings' all of my life and through long experience have resolved the issue by placing a mirror in every room or space to provide egress. There is one spirit that even seems to have an affinity for me which I have seen frequently since the age of seventeen. It appears as a kind of triangular black sail that will circle round me a second or two and then depart; it is neither slow nor rapid and when I was young it gave me great foreboding, but I have become accustomed to its visitations and while I will not say that it is a friend I have come to accept it as a "companion", for lack of a better term. In my more sombre moments I have even imagined it as my death, calmly and patiently waiting for me to shed this mortal coil so that we may sail away together, but as I say, those are my darker moments; more often I see it as simply my companion. It has even crossed continents with me because, of course, what can geography actually mean in its reality? All of which leads me to contemplate 'La Galerie des Glaces' at the chateau of Versailles. The room is a globally 
recognized work of art and indeed, it is resplendent, breathtaking in its beauty, elegance and sheer sumptuosity. Yet there it is, an immense hall with one wall composed entirely of mirrors, the facing wall of windows, the ceiling with glorious works of art and yet the floor is curiously plain, simple wood parquetry without pattern or decoration. It has long been known that the gardens at Versailles are actually gigantic encryptions of esoteric significance, according to the philosophic and metaphysical learning of the day, yet no one seems to apply this same acceptance of metaphysical application to the most stunning feature of the chateau itself, la Galerie des Glaces. It would make a fascinating, fabulous doctoral thesis for some enterprising student of philosophy, architecture or history.Writing of France and the French, I contemplated the other day the deplorable state of my French language skills. When I first moved here permanently in 2003, my French was, of course, less fluid and encompassing but I do feel that it was more elegant, more academic. Now after 5 years of residence and 4 years of marriage to a Frenchwoman, I speak French more fluently but with a great deal less elegance, I speak "street French", if you will. I suppose this was inevitable but I do regret that it had to occur. On the other hand, I well remember being regarded as something of a novelty or freak by the French when I first arrived, akin to a talking winged monkey at a circus sideshow, as I not only spoke French but my vocabulary was extremely "pissy" for the normal everyday Frenchman. Imagine a Shakespearean actor arriving in an average American city with only his 16th century English and you will have an approximate idea. They were amused and a bit offended at the same time. Our friend Oona (not her real name, of course) has no such problem. Oona is a French professor at an university in
Texas (her picture at left) and recently departed after a ten-day holiday here in Montpellier with Devi and I, a visit we deeply enjoyed and believe she did, too. Oona speaks clearly and concisely with the autochthones, as if she were teaching a French II class to bright students and everyone here simply adores her communication and has absolutely no problems with her French at all. Now I have known Oona a long time and am aware that she can toss around academic French with the best of them, yet she sails along quite nicely, thank you, here in the south of France without making a ripple. I do admire her for that skill, as well as for her philosophy of "do it all, do it now, you can always regret it later." Poor Oona, however, had one or two run-ins with some of our more 'colorful' friends, whose French is nearly incomprehensible, even for Devi, and I daresay she was a bit dismayed by the sudden intrusion of the openly neurotic into her otherwise peaceful visit. One of our friends, Latifah (let's call her thusly, shall we?), even had what I would term a fit of wild jealousy and caused a public spectacle, deeply distressing to both Devi and Oona, who nevertheless sailed along with that day's itinerary without further dismay. Oona took advantage of her European stay to jet over to
Greece for a few days, where she visited Delphi to breath the fumes and then motored down to Sparta to consult the Ephors. She had little to say about the jaunt when she returned, but did look a bit wild-eyed. She also told us that the apocryphal film, "La Fin Absolue du Monde", is quite real. We decided that perhaps she had breathed a bit too much vapor at Delphi. Oona is a gracious, lovely lady and Devi and I are extremely fond of her even though her past is filled with mysterious lacunae about which, if queried, she will respond in a clipped, brittle voice, "Let's move on, shall we?", tapping her long jade cigarette holder nervously against an ashtray. Another lady of mystery - sigh, my life is filled with them.Lest you be deceived, there are men of mystery as well. One of them is our upstairs neighbor, Fang Wong, who also happens to be a member of our rather extended "family" as he married our houskeeper's daughter, Myongsong (her picture in far left column, his just below). We know little about him,
in fact, and that he runs a "smoking establishment" upstairs in his large F5 apartment does nothing to ameliorate or clarify the mystery. Yes, opium dens are alive and well, even here in the south of France and it must be said that he seems to make quite a good living at it, despite "le thon" he must give to the police each week in order to stay in business. What we do know is that he was forced to flee Macao in the early 1990's due to an unfortunate series of incidents centered around his grandmother's smoking establishment. It seems that continued opium use provokes sporadic diarrhea amongst its habitués, unlike other drugs which provoke constipation, and a young Fang Wong thought it a good idea to sell anti-diarrhetic suppositories to the clientele. Unfortunately, what he was selling were gelatin capsules filled with Superglue, which soon caused severe legal problems for his grandmother and arrest warrants to be issued for him. His story becomes vague at that point; there are references to Singapore, Kuala Lumpur and eventually a boat trip to Marseille and thence to Montpellier. Here he met and married and drawing upon family situations moved in approximately one month after us, relocating to a larger apartment on the 4th étage, needing the extra space for his establishment. He has been here more often in our modest apartment recently in order to watch the Beijing Olympics, as a television would not suit the ambiance of his establishment. Devi and I have even remarked an occasional tear in his eye (sadness? regret? homesickness?) as he watched the television, but Fang Wong is extremely close-mouthed. He has, however, a good heart. Many are the times when he has invited me upstairs for a free 
smoke and although I rarely avail myself, I have been known to visit from time to time, simply out of politesse, as one would say. Also, he is very good to Myongsong, denying her nothing, except a television, which does not inconvenience her greatly as she often visits her mother and can watch it there to her heart's content. He is also punctilious in his business dealings and one does not see "trash" drifting in and out of the building at all hours of the day or night, as he closes his establishment precisely at 12 o'clock each evening, and opens again at 4 o'clock the following afternoon. As well, I understand he charges a hefty fee for the privilege of visiting his business, thus lower-income types are discouraged. If a client finds himself (Fang Wong does not allow women in his establishment, his theory being that women who smoke opium should do it in the privacy of their own homes with the assistance of a trained maid) unable to depart at midnight, the client is obliged to stay in one of the private cubicles until the doors are opened at noon for his departure, closed again and then re-opened at normal business hours. Obviously, his Macao disaster has taught him a great deal about discretion and good business practice. On top of this, he is gifted at homeopathic remedies and has helped me greatly with a recent oedema in my right foot, for which he concocted something called ' compound hamamelis' (witch hazel) which aides me greatly.In writing of the natural world of herbal remedies and flower-derived drugs, I am reminded of a
recent segment I saw on CNN International about the worldwide disappearance of frogs and other amphibians. It seems that scientists have isolated at least one cause of this, a skin fungus which spreads rapidly amongst said frogs and amphibians and causes their deaths by epidermal suffocation, much like the dead gold-plated blonde at the beginning of the James Bond film, "Goldfinger." The fungus is spreading and surviving at an alarming rate due, of course, to global warming. If the amphibian population continues to decline, the insect population will correspondingly rise, especially mosquitoes, thus provoking worldwide epidemics of malaria, yellow fever, etc. Personally, I believe that if frogs, salamanders and other amphibians are going to continue to die at such alarming rates, we should mandate a substitution in high school biology classes. And what better way to substitute for the dissection of frogs than with the one species that continues to multiply at an equally alarming rate - human beings. Shades of Jonathan Swift, I hear you thinking - but consider it - it makes perfect sense, does it not, and from a scientific standpoint as well? Our children would learn so much more, so much quicker, so much more efficaciously.Segueing into epidemics, I understand that the epidemic of violence in Pakistan shall soon reach
new heights. After the ouster of President Pervez Musharraf, the new popular party candidate for president will be Asif Ali Zardari, the widower of slain ex-Prime Minister Benazir Bhutto. Surprise, surprise. He is being opposed, naturally, by his until freshly-recent ally, Nawaz Sharif, an ex-Prime Minister himself. The issue seems to be the reinstallation of the judges dismissed by Musharraf, with Zardari saying that is a secondary issue and Sharif saying it is primary. If you are wondering why I would possibly care one way or the other, let us not forget that Pakistan is a nuclear nation and yes, it matters. Centered as it is between India (nuclear), China (nuclear), Afghanistan (Taliban) and the rest, do you really want to see that region go completely unstable? And as for Musharraf, he received a lot of praise from his Western allies upon his resignation for his co-operation during the "war on terror." I think if they were all that grateful then one of them should have offered him asylum, as I am sure his future in Pakistan is short-lived, to say the least.More nuclear news. The USA and Poland have agreed to and signed the missile defense shield
deal, designed specifically to piss off Russia, extend NATO's reach, and transplanting our Star Wars technology (oh yes, it exists - were you naive enough to think that it did not?) deep into the heart of Eastern Europe. Poland's enmity with Russia is historic and I believe there is still a kind of 14th century voivode vs. boyar mentality reigning in that part of the world. "Hmmm, how can we piss off Russia today?" The Russia/Georgia crisis is not helping at all, either, while the West rattles its largely ineffectual sabres against Russia's policy of "it's our backyard, back off." Condolezza Rice, Robin to G. W. Bush's Batman, may yet go down in history as the most damaging politician of this century. And then there is the news of Iran test-firing two-stage rockets, which the USA pooh-poohs as "a probable failure" - well, perhaps, but I guarantee that Israel will not take such a sanguine stance and if it believes that Iran is even close to succeeding with such tests, will not hesitate to turn large patches of Iranian sand into vast lakes of nuclear glass. Jesus, and Mohammed (pbuh), wept.Here in the civilized West (ahahaha), I notice that Qantas reports that profits are up by 44% this quarter. Good heavenly God, what is the matter with
people? Why does the business ethnic require that profits MUST ALWAYS rise? Does one not eventually reach a plateau where you cannot go higher, adjusting for inflation? To continually go higher and higher requires a bigger and bigger marketing population (6.5 billion and counting), as well as unlimited greed. Is it corporate sin to say, "We are stable, we are making enough, it does not get better than this unless we colonize the solar system"? The oil corporations are out of control, the airlines are crying poverty (but apparently not Qantas), the pharmaceutical giants are profiting from disease and global catastrophe which arms dealers promote for gain, good heavens, it goes on endlessly, people profiting upon the backs of the suffering and dying, but that is not news, is it. We are a sin on the soul of God, I do not know how else to phrase current human conduct.And what a cheery note upon which to conclude this peroration. If you are out there reading this, and there is even one, small, little thing that you can do to redress the balance, please do it. Heaven knows, our racial karma needs it. Please visit the bottom of the page and participate in the poll. Until the next,
Leducdor
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