Zelda Fitzgerald-Ways To End A Relationship| The Great Gatsby

Ways to end a relationship. So, why would I have that in a title about Zelda Fitzgerald? It's because I think that may have rolled around in F Scott Fitzgerald's head constantly.LOL yet maybe not LOL huh? Mental illness is a difficult thing to deal with and F Scott had plenty of it to deal with with his wife Zelda.

Years ago when I was in High School, and I am NOT saying how long ago that was!..lol! I read a book simply called "Zelda". I have been intrigued with her ever since. She died sadly in a fire in a sanitarium. To a young girl in high school that added a drama that created a mystique for my young mind and remains as I said till today.

Zelda Fitzgerald spent eighteen years of her life in different stages of mental illness. Yet, at times she was able to write some of her best work, including her only novel, "Save Me the Waltz". She also painted several abstract paintings. She died in 1948, with her few remaining unpublished works, her last letters to F Scott Fitzgerald, before he died, the last pieces of what had become a pitiful life. Before she died she was in the process of writing a second novel, "Caesar's Things", when a fire consumed the sanitarium where she lived in Asheville, North Carolina. Sad pitiful end.

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TURN ON THE MUSIC!

as you enjoy my lens.

Read the lyrics as you listen and KNOW, if you are sad like Zelda, there is life around you... reach out and grasp the small hours that can slip away. Decide TODAY and know that ....

This is LIFE TAKE ONE!

(cd's for sale lower on the page)

Here are the lyrics:

Rob Thomas - Little Wonders

let it go,

let it roll right off your shoulder

don't you know

the hardest part is over

let it in,

let your clarity define you

in the end

we will only just remember how it feels

our lives are made

in these small hours

these little wonders,

these twists & turns of fate

time falls away,

but these small hours,

these small hours still remain

let it slide,

let your troubles fall behind you

let it shine

until you feel it all around you

and i don't mind

if it's me you need to turn to

we?ll get by,

it's the heart that really matters in the end

our lives are made

in these small hours

these little wonders,

these twists & turns of fate

time falls away,

but these small hours,

these small hours still remain

all of my regret

will wash away some how

but i can not forget

the way i feel right now

in these small hours

these little wonders

these twists & turns of fate

these twists & turns of fate

time falls away but these small hours

these small hours, still remain,

still remain

these little wonders

these twists & turns of fate

time falls away

but these small hours

these little wonders still remain

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“It is the loose ends with which men hang themselves.”

“By the time a person has achieved years adequate for choosing a direction, the die is cast and the moment has long since passed which determined the future.”

“Youth doesn't need friends -- it only needs crowds.”

“There seemed to be some heavenly support beneath his shoulder blades that lifted his feet from the ground in ecstatic suspension, as if he secretly enjoyed the ability to fly but was walking as a compromise to convention.”

“Mr. Fitzgerald--I believe that is how he spells his name--seems to believe that plagiarism begins at home.”

“We grew up founding our dreams on the infinite promise of American advertising. I still believe that one can learn to play the piano by mail and that mud will give you a perfect complexion.”

“Oh, the secret life of man and woman --dreaming how much better we would be than we are if we were somebody else or even ourselves, and feeling that our estate has been unexploited to its fullest.”

“Most people hew the battlements of life from compromise, erecting their impregnable keeps from judicious submissions, fabricating their philosophical drawbridges from emotional retractions and scalding marauders in the boiling oil of sour grapes. Save Me the Waltz, 1932”

"I don't want to live -- I want to love first, and live incidentally."

"Nobody has ever measured, not even poets, how much the heart can hold."

"Why do we spend years using up our bodies to nurture our minds with experience and find our minds turning then to our exhausted bodies for solace?"

"Women sometimes seem to share a quiet, unalterable dogma of persecution that endows even the most sophisticated of them with the inarticulate poignancy of the peasant."

~Zelda Fitzgerald.

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Love Tests of the Heart-Your Own Must Survive

Thinking of F Scott Fitzgerald

Ways to end relationships

ways to leave a lover

sifting through

love tests

love poems

lost dreams

stories that must end.

There is no shadow

only a red hue

blood on your pillow

weeping from some strange angel

that used to be you.

Isn't that true?

You got lost inside a void

a black hole of sorrow

forgot your own meaning?

It is time to move on

say the words boldly

and out loud.

Maybe first just to yourself

get used to the sound of the words

leaving your mouth.

Hear them

then embrace them.

Ways to end relationships

feel it

become strong.

Imagine a strength

that thus far

you only wish was true.

Who would you be

If you were that strong?

What would you say?

You can wait but I'll be gone.

You can break but I won't care.

I've been on your side

loyal to a fault

but no more.

I'm sure you'll still be counting on 'us'

But I can't.

So beware

my selfish lover

take care.

Do not leave the light on

cause I'll be gone.

I will not miss the utter silence

of a one sided relationship

one that never saw this coming.

Don't just wish you could be that strong.

Or one day you will wake up

days will have passed and you will wonder

wonder about your life

time spent somewhere you did not want to be.

It is time...

time to feel your own courage

say those words

that until now you've only wished you could.

Ways to leave a lover?

Some way to end a relationship?

Yours for the decision.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

copyright 2008

The image is of a painting of mine called "Passages" I have posted it in a larger size down below as well.

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The Lyrics:

Rob Thomas - Lonely No More

Now it seems to me

That you know just what to say

But words are only words

Can you show me something else

Can you swear to me that you'll always be this way?

Show me how you feel

More than ever baby

Well I don't want to be lonely no more

I don't want to have to pay for this

I don't want another lover at my door

It's just another heartache on my list

I don't wanna be angry no more

You're the one who could never stand for this

So when you tell me that you love me, know for sure

I don't wanna be lonely anymore

Ooooh Oooooh Oooooh Ooooh

Now it's hard for me

When my heart's still on the mend

Open up to me

Like you do your girlfriends

And you sing to me

And it's harmony

Girl what you do to me is everything

Let me say anything just to get you back again

Why can't we just try?

I don't want to be lonely no more

I don't want to have to pay for this

I don't want another lover at my door

It's just another heartache on my list

I don't wanna be angry no more

You're the one who could never stand for this

So when you tell me that you love me, know for sure

I don't wanna be lonely anymore

Ooooh Oooooh Oooooh Ooooh

What if I was good to you?

What if you were good to me?

What if I could hold you till I feel you move inside of me?

What if it was paradise?

What if we were symphonies?

What if I gave all my life to find some way to stand beside you?

I don't want to be lonely no more

I don't want to have to pay for this

I don't want another lover at my door

It's just another heartache on my list

I don't wanna be angry no more

You're the one who could never stand for this

So when you tell me that you love me, know for sure

I don't wanna be lonely any more

Ooooh Oooooh Oooooh Ooooh

I don't wanna be lonely any more

I don't wanna be lonely no more

I don't wanna be lonely no more

I don't wanna be lonely any more

Who was F Scott Fitzgerald?

One of the saddest things about him is that he died believing himself to be a failure.

Francis Scott Key Fitzgerald (September 24, 1896 - December 21, 1940) was an American writer of novels and short stories, whose works are evocative of the Jazz Age, a term he coined himself. He is widely regarded as one of the twentieth century's great writers. Fitzgerald is considered a member of the "Lost Generation", Americans born in the 1890s who came of age during World War I. He finished four novels, left a fifth unfinished, and wrote dozens of short stories that treat themes of youth and promise (his first act), and despair and age (act two: Fitzgerald is also famous for the phrase, "There are no second acts in American lives").

Marriage to Zelda Sayre:

While at Camp Sheridan, Fitzgerald met Zelda Sayre (1900-1948), the "top girl", in Fitzgerald's words, of Montgomery, Alabama youth society. She was the daughter of an Alabama Supreme Court Judge. The two were engaged in 1919, and Fitzgerald moved into an apartment at 1395 Lexington Avenue in New York City to try to lay a foundation for his life with Zelda. Working at an advertising firm and writing short stories, he was unable to convince Zelda that he would be able to support her, leading her to break off the engagement.

Fitzgerald returned to his parents' house at 599 Summit Avenue, on Cathedral Hill, in St. Paul to revise The Romantic Egoist. Recast as This Side of Paradise, about the post-WWI flapper generation, it was accepted by Scribner's in the fall of 1919, and Zelda and Scott resumed their engagement. The novel was published on March 26, 1920, and became one of the most popular books of the year. Scott and Zelda were married in New York's St. Patrick's Cathedral. Their daughter and only child, Frances Scott "Scottie" Fitzgerald, was born on October 26, 1921.

From Wikipedia

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The Lyrics:

When the hour is upon us

And our beauty surely gone

No you will not be forgotten

No you will not be alone

And when the day has all but ended

And our echo starts to fade

No you will not be alone then

And you will not be afraid

No you will not be afraid

When the fog has finally lifted

From my cold and tired brow

No I will not leave you crying

And I will not let you down

No I will not let you down

I will not let you down

Now comes the night

Feel it fading away

And the soul underneath

Is it all that remains

So just slide over here

Leave your fear in the fray

Let us hold to each other

Until the end of our days

When the hour is upon us

And our beauty surely gone

No you will not be forgotten

No you will not be alone

No you will not be alone

~~*~~

The story of the week positive thinking?

I am undone.

Positive thinking hypnosis cds?

It feels ridiculous at the moment.

Yet, where do I purchase them? lol

10 tips for positive thinking

games for positive thinking?

I can't.

This week I am undone.

I am in fact human

daunted by circumstances that arise.

Today? For me at this second?

I am undone.

Circumstances, oh my

let me react OK?

I am not a robot

or something that can be programmed.

Let me vent at times!

I feel like gum under your shoe

I feel like a child asking for water

I feel like I am a mistake

I feel too much and don't want that pounding.

Take it back?

I wish I could.

Those feelings expressed

I take it back!

I want to.

I want to pull back those inches of me

exposed

that now pathetic openness.

I want to cover me in mud

and replace my now bleeding colors.

I want to rip up every expression on canvas

tear through the images

nail them to the cross

then walk away.

It was not me

I want to say

I want to refresh my pitiful page.

There is no power to me now

I gave that away.

How could I?

Edna St. Vincent Millay,

"and the sky caved in

by and by."

I must confess

I feel undone

like someone who does not matter

I used myself away.

The story of the week positive thinking?

I am undone.

Positive thinking hypnosis cds?

It feels ridiculous at the moment.

Yet, where do I purchase them? lol

10 tips for positive thinking

games for positive thinking?

I can't.

This week I am undone.

People pass by the homeless everyday

they walk past them

pretend not to see them

hope they will forget them.

And I?

I do too.

I have abused my own being

not protected that child

the one I thought was on her way to well?

I am sadder than no sky

I am blinder than no hope

I am not able to call on anyone...

but me.

In the end it is me alone.

I will recover.

Mistakes eventually become distant

learning sets in

abuse to oneself

or created by others

become like well meaning storm clouds.

Eventually.

You can ignore me

step on my blindfold

yet I will recover

I will arise I assure you.

I will not fold up napkins that don't belong to me.

I will not play with paper dolls that have no vision

those ones without the tabs.

They cannot maintain their belongings

nor prepare for the mad and misplaced

never adept in preparation.

The story of the week positive thinking?

I am undone

but I will still survive.

I am allowing myself room to vent!

Positive thinking hypnosis cds?

It feels ridiculous at the moment.

Yet, where do I purchase them? lol

LOL!

10 tips for positive thinking

games for positive thinking?

I can't.

This week I am undone.

But ya know what?

I feel it is OK!

I will in fact survive

get past this week, this moment.

Yes indeed,

I will recover past this day and others.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

copyright 2008

Written 31 March 2008

The small image is of my painting, "Bed of Dreams" available in cards, posters and giclees on my website. The original is still available through Monkdogz Urban Art, New York, NY. www.monkdogz.com .. ask for Bob.

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I wrote your name on a sidewalk

with the wax of a candle

its potential lit

gave me insight.

I had decided you were from my youth

a goddess from Greek Mythology

knowing lords from the middle ages

drawing gothic angel art.

I lived in another time.

I felt mesmerized by your stairway

that led to open ideas.

Pretend?

Alas a story real

the ones that artists feel.

Eventually we all feel magic

embrace flower petals that fall on our skin

Chinese floral prints

cherry blossoms, apple trees...

rain.

Once in awhile a demon

evokes.

Grim reaper artwork

colored in with chalk.

Once in awhile I allow her in.

Or is it out?

It makes so little sense

allowing her at all.

She, sensing my longings for fantasy

my trappings at times

I agree

and yet

she is an evil doer.

My world outside this one

delivers a soothing soul

inside mine own...

and she

this grim reaper dealer

delivers fatal letters.

She places them inside my armor.

Nasty witch she is in deed.

Pointing out flaws...

stars cannot possibly be counted

the moon cannot be relied upon.

The sun will let you down at times

gardens are not always green

roses moan

birds lose their way

and sometimes don't return again at all.

People are not always careful

with each others hearts

they forget?

Oh, pointing out flaws

it can feel overwhelming.

And the evil in me said,

"Do you think thats true

do you?

That magic can abound?

Despite your loathsome ways?"

And at that point...

noticing the rain had turned to glitter

the kind one finds in a jar

it became tainted

and turned then into soot.

I had to confess ...

"No,

no, there is no dream."

I bowed my head

protecting my eyes

and held out my hands

for a softer hope.

After the day had ended

I walked back to the sidewalk

where I had written your name.

Lords from the middle ages

gothic angel art

at my side.

Candle in hand

lit now to find my path.

There on the pavement

still fresh

still visible

it looked the same

as when I first wrote it down.

I was once again reminded

that I

only me

could allow that demon force to sing

cause me to fall

and tell me rain had been tainted

and could no longer birth new roses.

I could only stand there

looking down on your untouched name

squinting my eyes I could see

that it was mine

it was mine own name.

And the soot turned to rain once again.

I felt it on my tongue.

I held out my hands

wetness filled my palms.

I licked up every last drop

that a promise had displayed.

If there were flaws?

I was no longer daunted by them.

The night brought me new stars

and oh! I could not count them all!

Chills and tears.

My candle had lost its light

but the moon would guide me home.

I had a list in my pocket

new flowers I would plant

and I would wait for tiny birds

fledglings of flight

who would indeed find their way back

just like me.

A goddess of Greek Mythology

gothic angel art

met me at the gate.

I stayed up all night

under candlelight

drawing her lovely image.

by Kathy Ostman-Magnusen

copyright 2008

The small image is of my painting, "Swan Song" available in cards, posters and giclees on my website. The original is still available through Monkdogz Urban Art, New York, NY. www.monkdogz.com .. ask for Bob.

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PS... so WHO is Zelda? Hummm maybe a part of her is inside of us all and we are indeed a part of her as well. Take care of your heart and emotions.

THIS IS LIFE TAKE ONE.

~~*~~

Does Art Need Tragedy to be good?

I used to ONLY paint sad things, write sad things... because I WAS sad. People would ask me why everything I painted was so sad.

I used to ask back,

"What is interesting about happy?"

To a certain extent I still believe that, that happiness painted or written without some sort of tragedy is pathetically boring.

Real and honest emotion is something people seek out and yet when they find it they often become afraid of it. Does it remind them of something? Or...?

Art feels separate to me in some ways from my day to day goals of making my life happy. I wish I could tell you what that means to me.. it is perplexing to me as well. Yet.. if you went to a movie would you expect some sort of drama, some reason for the hero to enter? I think maybe tapping into the past brings those dramas, that dark and perhaps gothic side to create art with passion.

The everyday must be filled with seeking out happiness and embracing that side of us that enters into a world that is livable... lest we become like Zelda or Camille Claudel, swallowed up by the very gift we tried to embrace.

OH! art with all of its fragile dichotomies!

And you? Do you agree with me? Feel like I am full of it or have a completely different stance altogether?

Tell me...

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Does Art Need Tragedy?

Share your stories, sightings, thoughts, rants, raves...