Crawling out into the Sunlight!

Phew, finally I’m crawling out of my rock and into the world of writing again…I want to apologize to my faithful readers who have always came back to read my posts and encouraged me to continue. Wow, can’t say I’ve done a fine job with my up to date ideas for “FatalArt” but I will be working on some of the content, and eventually creating a more content focused posts. Thanks a million for your endless support!

Once I Came Out, I Never Went Back!



Once I Came Out, I Never Went Back
Our personality and lifestyle choices certainly influences our sense of style; fashionably or even in choosing decorative items. Nate Berkus has a magnetic natural finesse for interior designing. He continues to wow us with his ability to renovate the dullest living spaces into a utopian environment of fengshui, or transform castles to feel like it’s floating on a cloud. Hey, our home is meant to feel like our sanctuary, after all. Design, can open up a whole new world to you!

Nate’s career reached its climax when he announced his sexual orientation to his family and the public with ease and confidence.

Only he knew his true self on a deeper level. There was an instant spark of transformation when he accepted his true self and not what his dad or society expects him to be.

Complexity is certainly inherent in our lives, even choices we are easily prone to making can be determined as choices driven by our sense of ego or spirituality, never seemingly easily understood by others. The power that drives our desires and passions lies in our makeup like an astrological imprint of planets frozen in space and vibrating of strong energies beyond us yet manifesting itself before our eyes; and our higher self clings to it and lusts to materialize it. Psychologically, identifying with our own creative map is a rebirth into our true Spirit. Nate has revealed to us his true confessions “Once I Came out, I never Went Back” as a feeling of liberation and owning his individuality. That sense of liberation truly frees us of a psychic space mentally so we are to devote our thoughts into areas of greater purpose. His passion for designing has blossomed when he lived in harmony with himself. Then, he was able to fulfill his passion for design. Be yourself, and your passion and style will shimmer through the surface!

Nate enlightens us by saying, “Your home should tell your story. The way you do that is through your things. #thingsmatter

Yes, we know it’s not so simple to do that with all the expectations we face.
Objectively so many influences affects the nature of individuality and our quality of life. Like a quilt of various components somehow interconnected for the whole being known as wo/man: Heredity, geographical circumstances, nationality, social class, free will, and ever changing influences governing an individual’s complex identity. The most significant part is the belief and nature of our reality/context. Nonetheless, false information gets regurgitated for the purposes of blending in with the rest of civilized individuals. As Virgil has said, “Happy is he who gets to know the meaning for things.” Be nothing but yourself, and you’ll begin to feel and experience the paragon of God’s creation-your ideal self, life, passions, and inspirations.

I am intrigued by the intricate complicated web of our human selves, which are an unmistakable mark of God’s gentle touch.

Image courtesy of Nate Berkus.

Flash Fiction: Madame Serpent


10. Whispers of satanic worship commanded her to execute the spell.
9. The walls marked unexplained symbols engraved against the stones.
8. She seen an apparition emerge from her juvenile cell.
7. What once stood there was a sanatorium.
6. He departed, but his spirit stayed.
5. She felt his cold touches.
“I’ll free you from here Miss Gemini!_your dare devil side_” His voice roared like a thunderous lion. “And grant you the recognition and success of a Fashion Icon. You are not just Selling your Soul for an exclusive prestige. It’s shedding off your skin and evolving into a Mystical Butterfly.
4. Mesmerized by his offer, she agreed.
3. But on a second thought, dehumanize them all.
2. For sacrifice.
1. Revenge!

Image courtesy of Serkan Mumcuoglu (Art Director and Photographer)

The End of Fur!


Annabelle brewed a cup of hot tea for her mother who laid in bed in her full length fur coat and nude Christian Laboutin paralyzed with heartache. Her Mother was suppressing her alleged pain with Russian vodka. She always does this when she is falling into an emotional abyss. “Oh, this tea is perfect for a cold day like this,” said Annabelle. She reached into the medicine cabinet for a handful of sleeping meds and then grabbed the blender to liquefy it all. She added a low dose of LSD (Lysergic Acid Diethylamide) from Simon’s (her mother’s husband) cabinet which he uses to treat his chronic mental condition. She yearned for more of Simon’s gentle touch and the sexual arousal it brought and her heart grew fonder of his absence. “He must appreciate a woman who is maidenly to wipe away his misery,” she thought. She poured the mixture into the opaque cup of tea stirring vigorously as she added powdered cinnamon to contain the bitterness. As she smelled the aroma of the cinnamon extract, she recalled what Madame(house maid) had explained to her about love. Madame used to say that a woman can never be friends with a man for a long period of time without him wanting love and sex. She cared too much for Simon’s affection; it’s what was keeping her alive. “Why should mother rob me of that?” she pleaded to no one, “this is my time!”
Annabelle masked her face and showed only pitiable concern as she walked to her mother’s room. Her mother laid intoxicated and was disappointed in Annabelle’s long response time to her call. “I was making you tea, mom. You need to sober up or you’ll have a hangover if you don’t stop” she said gracefully. She wanted to titter maliciously but feared an uproarious belly laugh would spill out of her mouth. Her mother was enthralled by her warm gesture. She slowly tipped the edge of the cup towards her lips. Annabelle’s domineering stance towered over her mother as she watched her drink. “It’s a little sweet, did you add more than two tea–?” Time slowed down, space expanded. A volcanic reaction was erupting internally in her immune system. She felt her spirit enfolding her into the other side of Earth’s black hole. Was it the effects of LSD, a dangerous hallucinogen, or had death crept in? Her sub-conscious mind was attempting to interpret what was happening. Annabelle continued watching as if a boiling pot of milk was about to erupt. Mother’s unconsciousness carried her away.

“Simon! Simon!” She screamed excitedly as she rushed to his room. “What did she want you for?” asked Simon.
“Nothing at all. Just go deal with your heartless,superficial wife, who’s so wrapped up in her own need for luxury at the expense of others!”

He rushed to her bedroom. Annabelle lingered along. She stood by her mother’s bedroom door as if stalking her prey insidiously. Simon impatiently pushed open the ajar door. His batting eyelids squinted to see through the darkened room. As the moon shone its borrowed light through the windows, he sensed his breathing becoming erratic. Like a laser beam his eyes fell on her laid body covered with her dark fur coat as if seeing a dark apparition.
“What’s going on with her?” demanded Simon.
Annabelle schemed for an answer.
Simon rocked her shoulder, “Sweetheart, wake up.” He shouted. The silence of the room only echoed his voice. Annabelle, what did you do?” He suspected. His sigh wailed in the room like a howl. Both of his hands flew up in the air begging God for an intercession. He looked around for a sign, and looked at the clock for any numerological significance, but 10:17pm meant nothing.

Simon, the helpless romantic,collapsed on the floor from a heart attack; fighting to grasp longer to his silver cord inhibited between life and death. Annabelle stood over him, thinking of her mother’s tea melting the ice-cold feeling in her stomach she suddenly felt.

The Bewitching Scorpio and Her Fashion Sense

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Image courtesy of Instaglamxo

“You want a love that consumes you (Fashion is that aphrodisiac, yes ma’am) you want passion and a little bit of danger.” Damon_Vampire Diaries

You want to possess that explosive power to rule, if possible, even a corner of the earth, secretively; and you enmesh your seductive sense of fashion for that desire to sedate, possess, and transform. You are a natural born Femme Fatale. Others are drawn to you like a moth to a flame, needless to see, you’re strikingly ready to subdue your prey with your venom.

You shield yourself in dark garments; hints of burgundy, menacing undertone gowns, and show layers of yourself with a heavy amorous disposition as you sip on those full bodied and velvety red wines.

Your natural inclination for secrecy twists other’s thought processes into displaying an uncontrolled urge to devour your ideas into pieces. Instinctively, you know that shinning a light on the inner dimension of emotions isn’t everyone’s idea of a “fun time”.

Your soul searches for complex mental stimulation, like the melodies fusing from creation’s subatomic waves, or the sound of the oceans swooshing its molecules for your serenity.

The heavens gaze at your inner silence as you watch from without contemplating the purpose of its existence.

Removed from reality you spark of God, and feel struck by his presence. To expect nothing from the world, but to know the meaning of its existence, is your higher octave realm.

Cosmologically why is it there? You question. Why, also, invest in celestial engineering to dominate the universe next door (Andromeda) if it’s not you who has yet to come with a solution?

If you were not to exist where would you be? You ask yourself. Is this what being in the abyss means?

Scorpio, you’ve had your fair share of pain (ahuh, we know it hasn’t been simple), and a sting in your heart from familiar faces that have faded throughout time.

Not seeing the light nor the atoms engraved in your eyelashes hasn’t disproved the state of its being. In fact, you are consumed by your own desires, and long for intensity in what is considered “unordinary.”

With time, your plutonic mind has realized words shouldn’t be decorative ornaments placed in space to convey the truths of reality; It has perpetuated itself to become nonsensical.

Given the intensity and turbulence you have faced, you are the phoenix rising out of its own ashes. Your gracious style shows your aura to heal and transform even the wounded spirits that have merged with your soul’s innate strength.

“ Certain dark things are to be loved in secret, between the shadow and the soul.” Pablo Nuroda

Flashback: Dancing and Grooving to the Ecstatic Zenith and Jazz Rhythm


(image courtesy of the Sartorialist

I received a call unexpectedly from my friend who invited me out to an evening themed party, that I didn’t even realize could still be manifest in this day and age. I left my apartment feeling insecure in a white ruffled dress, and my hair sleeked in a bun. The idea of a party evening like the gatherings at “The Great Gatsby” mansion didn’t sound too bad, but was unusual for me and outside of my comfort. “What the heck”! I said out loud, as my lanky legs moved forward towards the stairs leaving my apartment. Wow, flashes of flappers gathered at the Speakeasy shops during the prohibition era crossed my mind. I immediately dismissed my penetrating thoughts trying to make sense of what the “heck” flappers wore, and what I had on.

My friend was parked outside, with a bashful smile across his face, waiting on me.
As his eyes fell on me, he yelled out cheerfully, “honey, your dress is immaculate. I shook my head, and slammed my butt onto the passenger seat. Minutes passed before we had finally reached the corridor.  I could hear my heart beat trembling with excitement.  Rhythms of Jazz graced my virgin ears; and I felt my sweat pouring out of my pores from nervousness.  But the purity of white that was immanent that evening on everyone cleansed all dark corners of my negative thoughts about my loaded stress, and work. The sound of the music notes piercing through my ears allowed me to wriggle my hips unconsciously. It was a transforming experience that unknowingly I desired to experience. 

Men’s Wear Trend


Talk about living heavenly on Earth immersed in natural tones of green in Dak’s RTW velvet pants crushing its color gainst a blue sky, or an office lit lighting.  2013 Men’s Wear trend has exceptionally heightened our senses to a celestial level. From London, Paris, New York to Milan, Men’s Wear Trend marks the epidemic of attractive, sophisticated, refined, and a possessive kind of flair for men that is almost cunning, but remains tantalizing.

Shown: Daks RTW Fall 2013, MR. Green, graces us with an unmistakable unisex appeal with a hint of its own mystery. The drapery of the fabric gently dances with the swaying of the hips inducing that allure as if he is sashaying. If a soft textured velvet drape mesmerizes us all to this extent, why not wear it? It’s sensual, and I’ve never met anyone who has declared sensuality a sinful form of artistry. Daks RTW along with the prestige of other men designer’s this season have enlightened the true renaissance hearted, and romanticized it with magnetic colors that reflects haute couture’s fantasy hues and natural earth tones.

Many people aren’t head over heels over Men’s RTW, but this season’s men’s fashion reveals a new kind of “it” man. The one that stands looking outside of his office window waiting for the next client and shockingly stops all your nerve endings from rushing blood to your head.  All of a sudden, an astonishing wave of tremendous fascination gleams in your eyes and you’re stricken by the simplicity of the interwoven fiber, prints or textures harmoniously illuminating a man of great status, sex appeal, or bold individuality.



Heather Scholl has impeccably revealed the hidden expression of queer culture. The avant-garde designs inspire an instant fascination with duality.  She has crystallized an expression for each silhouette, intuitively.  The blue tight fitted maxi dress isn’t just a constructed dress; it’s rather a social history of culture, a reflection of aspects of queer representation. The collection sends a sedative wave of dignified energy as an inseparable part of the woven tapestry experiencing the duality of glamour and pain. Each garment is independent of the modern world it’s in, refined, emotional but transcendent. The eccentric silhouettes strutting down the runway has a pure reference and resonance to the one embracing him/herself wholeheartedly. The future oriented styles are striking, and attracts the attentions of admirers who are intrigued by one’s acceptance for feeling as One with All his human selves. 

Anyone with a deep attachment to the community will find it soothing and penetrating to arouse his/her sensibility to the unstructured designs, that is surrounded by notes of handmade beadwork, embellishment, and the unmistakable feeling of luxurious cotton and wool draping against the skin. Scholl said she designs for, “someone who squeals at the excitement and the creativity involved.  Who is excited to push you to create more just so they can have a closet full of completely unique and original garments.  And a pretty fabulous fuck off attitude that makes you want to fall in love with her.” It would be impossible not to become swept away by the ultra edgy looks which graces us all with very subtle touches, yet satisfies the complexity of ones’ demands.

The collection captivates the essence of the community that embraces dualism and integrates it as part of a unifying whole; together, the harmony is celebrated loudly and screams of panache.  The geometric cut biases effortlessly fuses in this ready to wear collection, leaving a strong statement of high voltage glamour, dignity, and renewed vitality. 

Faithless Passion in Cashmere

Faithless Passion

The finest clothing made is a person’s skin, but of course, society demands something more than this.” –Mark Twain

I walked into his private parlor, palpably arrayed with his aesthetic touches, history, and spiritual energy. It became clear that art is a window to his soul. I could sense it touched him profoundly. This aura aroused my curiosity for some form of spiritual enlightenment through him. I felt his affinity for the arts in a sensual way.

He gently leaned over and whispered softy, “I’ve wanted to tell you something.” He paused to align his breathing with his heartbeat. “You are a very beautiful woman.” He felt his blood rushing through his veins as the aroma of the musk fragrant that I had spritzed over my skin aroused him. He laid his provocative hands on my face and leaned toward the corners of my plump lips trailing feather light kisses. I wasn’t shocked by his intimacy. I held my breath as I felt his twirling tongue on my skin gently taking my flesh into his mouth. I felt joy from his explorative soft kisses and his fingertips pressing against my neck. He released the pressure of his fingertips and wrapped me closely in his arms. The feeling between us felt like we were in silent meditation.
“I have to go,” I said as I tried to hide my explosive outbursts of emotions from seeping. I swayed my hips provocatively as I walked away from his admiring stare. The morning air was heavy and warm.  We could have easily been consumed with our faithless passion. “Maybe it’s something spiritual; there was something gloomy and peculiar about him today that was trying to revive from an innate state.” I immediately dismissed my thoughts, and became attentive to his stare admiring the contours of my womanly body. He blushed at my fallen hair pressing against the soft fabric of his cashmere red sweater. My eyes reflected a glowing hidden passion he longed to devour.

His eyes were still lit on me like bees on a radiant flower as he explored all the possibilities of regret for our intimate encounter, but his heart failed to resent me when it embraced the reflection of the fire glow in my eyes penetrating through his body.  He reached and touched my hand while sending a telepathic wave of tremendous loneliness that we both knew we’d always feel because of our significant others. Slowly, I then slithered out of his red cashmere sweater,and stood up bold upright owning my own sensuality.