Tuesday, October 12, 2004

For everything...zine, zine, zine.

Lining the shelves of the library are every magazine for every kind of person out there. One for cats and chess, one for kids and kites. One for liberals, republicans and democrats...alike! (No rhyme intended.)

What's my zine, eh? Where do I fall? The last one I bought was a Premiere that featured interviews with, ahem, the Hobbits. (By the way, LOTR is cool, so don't hate.)

Where was I?

Oh, yes.

Visions of bed frames are dancing in my head; I walk right by Miss Cosmo, Miss Elle and their clique. Not because I don't like them, but because the shiny pictures of well designed bathrooms and bedrooms snatch my attention away.

Between the glossy pages of decorating/design magazines is a color-filled, textureful, gracefully lined heaven awaiting to run wet with my drool. It's true! I nearly drool at a good design, or rich, vibrant, living color. Or, supple textures that invite the hand to caress it.

If I were to be honest, I'd admit that such beauty warms me and heats me and heightens a wonderful sensitivity within in and throughout. For me, a thorough collage of color, texture and design would be as unto a Barry White song. But, I won't be that honest.

And, now, I can better understand the place that that chess magazine holds in the world and I won't scorn them in my mind any longer; there's someone out there whose mouth waters at the prospect of 'pawn takes queen'. Their eyes glaze over at the conclusion of a well-played, equally matched, intense round. The board seems to yield a pull stronger than gravity. To conquer it is to experience nirvana.

Or, so I imagine.


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