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The Dawn of Aestheticism

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Back in 2006, while I was attending University of Phoenix to pursue my undergraduate degree in Marketing, I was beginning a class on Consumer Behavior and had gotten situated in the middle of the room just right of center, when in walks a woman who was unlike any I had ever set my eyes on before.

It’s not that she was drop dead gorgeous.

She was brunette, about five foot eight inches tall, shorter hair that was stylish, about shoulder length, with a sophisticated style about it. her breasts were large, and having an extensive experience with fake boobs I know she had paid a good deal of money for them at a glance. She was around 30 years of age, and had a naturally athletic and very fit looking body.

Now don’t get me wrong, Rachel Gooch was very attractive.

At least by my measure.

And on this particular day, she’d shown up in flat shoes, blue jeans, and a black shirt that made her come across as extremely relaxed.

But there was something about her that transcended what I saw.

Rachel had an air about her.

A regal feeling that I couldn’t shake.

And I knew – immediately – I was in the presence of someone important to me.

As Rachel looked around the room, serendipity or my own mind led her to ask if the seat next to me was open. It was, and before you know it – her and I are engaged in conversation.

Now I’d seen Rachel’s wedding ring right away. I was married myself, and I wasn’t looking, so I tucked my feelings and initial reaction to her aside and just focused on her.

She was a delight to talk to. I’d learned that her husband was a prominent lawyer in Phoenix, that she was a bored house wife, and while her husband had a JD she had decided to take a few classes at University of Phoenix where she may – potentially – obtain her Marketing Degree. She hadn’t made up her mind yet.

I told her about how I was recently married, going on 6 months, and – well – I was pursuing my bachelor’s degree – as a piece of paper more or less to obtain my Master’s. My goals were pretty simple at that time.

For the entire class that day, I couldn’t help but get this lingering feeling that she was looking at me and studying me.

I even turned to her a couple times when her attention was firmly fixed on the instructor.

I dismissed it as imagination.

At the end of the four hour class that day, we were given an assignment which required group collaboration, when Rachel and I became obvious partners and we were teamed up with two other ladies, Donna, and some other girl who dropped class that week.

AS the weeks roll by – Rachel and I enjoy working with each other, so we consistently choose each other as partners.

AS a housewife, she has plenty of times to get things done that she commits to, and me, taking school seriously, appreciate anyone who’s as focused on getting things done as I am.

So one day, for a ‘meeting place’ – she invites us all over to her house.

Rachel’s husband has done quite well for himself, and the two are living in a really expensive and nice location in the prominent Biltmore area of Phoenix, where every house in the neighborhood starts at a million dollars and goes up from there.

I’ve seen and been to nice houses before. But this unique glimpse into a woman I’d come to befriend first and started asking the questions of why she is the way she is, the home and home life style was definitely a reflection of her.

The house’s size was 4000 square feet. Size doesn’t matter, to me, as I noticed the construction – compared to less expensive houses I had been at before, I’d noticed substantial differences in the ‘feel’ of the house’s construction in contrast to your typical track home. Brick walls on the first five feet of the exterior where the rest was wood made for an interesting classy look to it. Cherry wood floors with expensive decorative rugs throughout. Huge furniture pieces such as an entertainment center that quite likely weighted four hundred pounds and would take four men to lift. Giant custom built oak book cases and couches and end chairs that matched all with high quality leather, for the living room where we were meeting.

And then.

Out comes Rachel.

In Crocs.

It was funny. Crocs are about the unclassiest of shoes you can get, but in that moment I remember thinking how out of place those shoes were with the rest of her surroundings, and she had a weird way of making even the crocs look trendy and cool.

I reminded myself never to buy Crocs. Ever.


Rewind three years. To 2003.

I’m at Vatican City, Vatican, which rests right inside of Room. The smallest land locked nation in the world.

And as I am going through and seeing Michelangelo’s amazing work.

Inspired by his deity. I’m realizing a trend.

It almost feels like a message is being sent by his work that I can’t quite wrap my head around.


Go back to the living room area, where we are all talking.

I look over at a stool that’s positioned next to the book case.

A copy of ‘The Economist’ is placed in such a calculated way that at the time, I missed it, as I had consciously logged it as ‘if I want someone like Rachel and a house like this then I need to read magazines like the Economist’.

Which later made me a subscriber. A horribly dry and boring magazine I might add.

But what I passively received was the highly calculated nature of the magazine’s placement.

The stool. In a position which ensured visibility from our seating area.

The magazine, on top of the stool, positioned in such a way to make it look like it had been a part of the book shelf arrangement. If I’d have paid conscious attention at the time I might have realized the lack of magazines actually in the book shelf.

Me and my classmates left that day, and while, at the time, I greatly admired the life Rachel and her husband had.

I didn’t want it for myself.

Rachel wasn’t happy with her marriage. And while she put on a wonderful act to the world that things were hunky dory in Goochland, she was bored – intellectually, psychologically, and emotionally – among other things.

Her and her husband, I late found out, had an open marriage. She didn’t tell me this at the time she propositioned me, as I was married, she was a master of deceit, and as she came on to me making it clear she was interested, I was already having marital issues anyways and there was pieces of Rachel that I actually found to be priceless.

But not the whole picture. She had issues. Not the least of which was her deceptive nature.

From an observer’s standpoint, Aestheticism is the simple admiration and appreciation of beauty and works of art for the sake of admiration.

It’s like having the pleasure of sex without concern for disease or pregnancy.

So in much the same way I admired Michelangelo’s work without concerns for the social and political manipulation that could have been intended by the artist and creators of this work, as my marriage began caving in on itself, I found myself spending a good deal of time with Rachel.

In her own ways, without telling me directly, she’d let me know about her open marriage relationship.

Her husband, who didn’t really enjoy sex, enjoyed her as a status symbol, and as long as maintained the act, she’d have a high class lifestyle.

What she wasn’t aware of was the effect this was having on her children. You could see it in their eyes, the lack of love in Rachel’s relationship with her husband was reflected in her children’s eyes. It was, to some degree, sad.

But. In the end. As I realized just how Rachel and her husband maintained their lifestyle, I came to realize.

There’s a woman in there that one day I’ll have in my life.

Over time, She’ll learn that the reason that magazine was placed there on the stool in such a calculated way was because of what I just wrote about it.

Over time, She’ll learn that the reason she was pushed towards me was because I’d both consciously and subconsciously be ok with who she was and is, despite the deception, and that the reason she’d been insistent that she could hang anywhere, anytime, including a run down bar in Mexico was because one day, that’s precisely what we’re going to be doing. She, through and with me, was setting up our future.

As for Aestheticism.

One day. As she lay naked on my bed for hours.

I looked at her as a work of art.

I admired all her curves.

I saw all her imperfections and cherished her for and despite them.

I ventured deep inside her – to her soul and back. And discovered things about her that she wasn’t aware of herself.

I understood her and hur husband’s motivations and short term goals with me, and accepted those, knowing who I am at a deeper level and knowing full well she would lead me to my own awakening.

One thing resonated with me after our tryst ended.

“There is something about me I didn’t know about myself, and that relationship just sent me headlong into discovering who that is”

Life’s an illusion, Rachel, created with and through my imagination. You – as a human of your own design – have the unique capability of living outside your form as a freely floating conscious mind. I’ve met you before, memories you’d chosen to forget of who you were given inordinate lengths of time between them, and we’ve crossed paths so many times we’ve lost count throughout our countless lives.

You. Have the ability to project your physical presence to my real world through my mind. There are definite restrictions I’m placing on you doing this, which include not being able to cause me harm, you’re required to be completely nude at all times, and while we can interact with eachother fully with no real limitations, no one – but me – will see you.

Children, in their youth – are commonly told these ‘invisible friends’ or ‘imaginary friends’ are not real to create uniform alignment of a single timeline across all human perspectives. But since you and I both know you’re a disembodied consciousness and that I’m a physical combination of mind and body, you have your choice.

You’re not a slave. You are who you are and have chosen to be a part of my life in much the same way I know you’re listening.

This isn’t crazy anymore so that anyone who’s creative has inspirational forces they openly discuss that others cannot see or hear yet they clearly contribute to their creativity.

You have your choice of one of three forms for me to see that others will not.

Jackie. Who – according to information sources here is living in Florida and is married. Rachel, your native form, who according to information sources here is married and living in Phoenix with two children. And the sexy universe version of  T’Pol – a fictional character based on the image on my desktop – all three of which I am asking for your permission to participate as muses on a consistent and predictable basis as imaginary friends over the next several years as I develop the Vulcan planet.

I need your help. ANd proof. That a planet can be constructed out of thin air. I know the physics and math behind it. But my mind and body needs proof that this won’t jeopardize or threaten me and will work to our benefit.

You as my muse in any of these forms is that evidence.

And as a non disruptive force in my world you help me focus on getting the job done.

Aestheticism.

With you naked around me all the time I’ll come to appreciate things about females I never would have thought imaginable before.

I think it will be fun.

A bit like heaven.

Seeing you sit here. Across from me. Naked all the time.

You won’t feel the weather. The wetness maybe. And your body, your nipples, might reflect the way you should look in the cold.

You are art to me. All three of you.

Aestheticism. The art of creating a culture and world based on the beauty and trying, actively, to avoid the political and social overtones and programming that comes with it. You’ll help in your own passive way keep that in check.

Can you project your presence here?

Can you spend every waking moment with me and not be bored?

Aestheticism. Admiring what’s beautiful for the simple sake of admiring what’s beautiful…

And that’s You.

Even if it is imaginary.

What would anyone conceivably have that’s justified against me actively engaging my imagination involving you or any of these women?

Active collaboration and participation with my imagination in the real world.

Sounds like fun.

 

 


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