Potentially 2020's
Best Found
Song / Album / Music Video Masked Anonymous
MaskedAnonymous
Fiona nee
Maggart
FionaneeMaggart
Apple If you
love the whip, what are they doing to you?
AppleIf you love the whip, what are they doing to you?
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She's excitably giddy and painfully sensitive to all her favorite things, but mainly her dog - along with music, and her man, she sings in 'Shameika'!
of potential, and did she have it?
did Shameika hit that bang on the head?
Because,
like Shameika, not only full of potential, but full of the gift named after those whose gift is to spot it in others.
sometimes the potentiator turns what she saw in others to that which she finds in herself, potentially.
So when that happens, and the two find each other, it can only be a good place, and there can only be one word for what Shameika was and is, and who saw what in Fiona Maggart -- oppressed, misunderstood, profoundly talented, and what bullies were giving as lashing, strength to get that mule to leave!
what bullies don't know about the meek, they now know about ms. Maggart and Shameika, her spotter. and what she knew was:
when the Devil Tongue cuts with its leather snap and marks where it never goes away, it leaves something
in whose backs, whipped, tied to a tree.
something which few of us can hardly imagine.
Shameika the Spotter, saw it.
In her mind's eye she saw Fiona go to a Prayer Wheel spinning it three times backwards, as she rounded the raised structure where it stood.
She then saw something she did not understand.
She saw Young Fiona Maggart in a dream state, propulsively rounding a peristyle, pushing and pulling prayer wheels over, and again and again, and over and over, until evening descended in the cold mountains of Shangri-La.
She decided to speak to Art Mag, to really find out for sure (from her training she knew she had to ask three questions which all had to be answered in the affirmative).
She gently whispered the first question into her ear, only loudly enough to make herself heard above the murmuring peaceful noise in this Prokosch landscape:
She did this two more times, pulling out a pad and writing as best she could what fiona answered, in gulps and swallows -- rushing, rising streams, eddying whirlpools and rivulets ROILED against the shoreS of her mind.
and that's the time Shameika Told
Fiona Maggart Apple
[she]
Had Potential
postscript for lovers
- we should not be surprised to notice too, those whose pleasure it is that they may have served the bedding of this woman, troubled, too brilliant artist from whom the light pours out brightly, impossible to get one's head around, if one were in the bad business of running tabloid newspapers, or that which resemble those yellow journo, former inglorious, romantic, hackneyed art / information / necessities, none of whose qualities apply
- one could assemble a flawlessly accurate list of persons from the beginning of Fiona Apple's sexual awakening, before fame, before brilliance was a shining thing known only to herself and her parents.
- a list of an exorbitantly rich assortment of lovers, boyfriends, husbands, paramours, rock star flings,
Secret husbands, strange bedfellows -- you can count (did she date Paul Reuben? I will have to ask that woman some questions), all emanating from the gorgeous, sexy syllabilator of Brobdingnag proportion, Cuisanartrix au journals, paperscraps, miraculously staying together as never-enunciated bombastic curlicues -- the pedantic academia of a tenyeared tweedy prof, who should have been written by Phillip Roth;
a professor of whose extracurricular activities, one activity was done with the most ribald pleasure, that one which was the smoking insulation of good Humboldt weed while Rochambeau over drinks to male TA's, pulling tablecloth verses, stanzas, cadenzas, from her brain, as a Morgellon's sufferer pulls multi-colored threads from under fingernails, which may neither be burned, nor seen by most of us (in Joni Mitchell's case, also pregnant).
- mixed in ever so like the precious nut in the mix whose rarity, therefore its value causes it to be the least frequently seen and most exciting, delectable nut in the can, whose cache, here, Fiona's notable company in a non-existent club whose presumptuous compiling is nothing if not rank and reviling, which if one were in the know of even what one thought was possible in an outside guess of a ballpark figure in which to contextualize, not sexualize this list of what this list might include, in order to be of any value, at all, of a list whose constructing, was not taken up on a Sunday afternoon to be put away, unfinished, until Sunday dinner, when one would find one's brain listing toward lists whose listed subjects under this category, at least, would one of the most erudite, varied, disproportionately eccentric, impossibly beguiling, even to take one or two whose ego or intellectual prowess, if not, equally brightly shining-from-within resembling hers, one would find it impossible to do the simplest hypothetical but tellingly, real and innocuous mental calculation of seating even two of the people included on this list around the same dining table with two others -- yourself and Fiona.
- The most varied stable of ex-husbands and lovers.
- invest in a large Machine, Algorithmically terabyte full
of
compendiums necessary to form a Dataset which research parameters, technology and statistical, ontology, and metaphysical hardware would one need, if one, at even half-capacity for authenticity were to try to construct 6-degrees of separation, even something more high school yearbook staff, for distinguishable, breathless, this class of Fiona would call alumni.as sterling a group of imaginary diners as ever picked up a fork, or check.
