Sky Blue Review - N°3 by Sky Blue Review

Erotic Fiction by Charles Anastase Jules Romm

J O I E G

A Special Piece by Evgeny

D E N

V I V R E , L

Fashion by Nickolas Lorieux Alice Rosati Noël Quintela

N U M É R O N

I I I , E

2 0 2 1 I

SKY BLUE

J O I E

D E

V I V R E ,

N U M É R O

I I I ,

2 0 2 1

Numéro

Janvier

Périodique

2021 semestrielle

Éditeur et directeur de publication: James 6

V. rue

Saint

75008,

Thomas Petersbourg Paris

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Dépôt

légal

Impression Offset M.

Janvier faite

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LT-03100

par House

Čiurlionio

: KOPA

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ISSN Prix

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vente:

21,00

€

Conseil, distribution , diffusion internationale par

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NUMÉRO II

Eric

Namont

� C O N T R I B U T E U R S �

R E DAC T E U R E N C H E F

J A M E S V. T H O M A S

G R A PH I ST E

JULES BA NIDE PHOT O G R A PH E S P OU R C E N U M E RO

ALICE ROSATI N I C K O L A S L O R I E U X R E PR É SE N T É PA R T H E A RT BOA R D NOEL QUINTELA AU T E U R S AYA N T C ON T R I BU É À C E N U M É RO

E VGEN Y CH A R LES A NASTASE JULES ROMM DI R E C T ION C A ST I NG

IKKI CASTING F I L M M A K E R AYA N T C ON T R I BU É À C E N U M É RO

PA T R I C I A C A S T E L L A N O S A S SI STA N T AYA N T C ON T R I BU É À C E N U M É RO

P I E R R E - PAU L PA R V I E U X M I SE E N BE AU T É

JAC OB K A J RU P

R E P R É S E N T É PA R C A L L I S T E

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PA R J A M E S V. T HOM A S 15

EVERY THING HAS AN END E X C E P T F O R A PHOT S AOU SAG E W H IC H H A S T WO G R A PH I É A L IC E ROSAT I

Cultivated confinement 34

L A D Y T PAHR CEH A R LDE S A CHSHUND A N A STA SE 50

AU BON H EU R DE MOI O U U N D É FPHOT I OLG RÉA PH I D E MODE CHEZ SOI É PA R N IC KOL A S L OR I E U X 62

ODE TO SILENCE

SE V E N DAY S OF SI L E NC E I N A SM A L L ROOM A LON E BY E VG E N Y W I T H I N T RODUC T ION BY SAVA N N A H NOL A N 72

H O M M E S À L ’ APHOT U OBG R E D’U N E NOU V ELLE V I E A PH I É PA R NOE L QU I N T E L A 86

H O L YBY JR OLLERS U L E S ROM M 96

D . G . A T BYYDOR OI AUN N ERG R AYS E R V I C E

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Chers

Lecteurs,

La joie de vivre, sujet typique et attendu, mais tellement essentiel actuellement. Plus que jamais, on retrouve en ce moment le besoin de la faire ruisseler tout le long de son corps. Sans réticence, retrouver l’innocence, le naïveté, l’insouciance, faire l’effort de pensée de bloquer toutes mauvaises choses. S’offrir le luxe de la joie de vivre, qui a cependant son prix. Quel luxe la joie de vivre, NUMÉRO II

et quel effort en même temps. Il y a quelques années j’ai rencontré un mentor de la méditation dans des vacances insulaires, auteur d’un livre qui m’a tant appris que ma vie s’en est trouvée marquée. Que l’on trouve cela cruel ou pas, l’essence de la pensée est de se tenir loin de l’inclination à fréquenter le malheur, de toujours chercher la joie, de toujours chercher l’amour et le bonheur, d’une façon proactive. Éviter les personnes qui vous submergent, les lieux qui vous rendent triste, faire du

rangement dans sa vie, etc… 2020 est l’année où cette voie de pensée doit s’appliquer plus que tout. Une grande amie me disait au début du confinement que tout ce qui aurait été fait en cinq années se sera fait en cinq mois. Elle a eu raison. On est toujours en train de chercher dans les décombres comment tout cela s’est installé, mais les effets sont bien visibles. La raison pour laquelle j’ai choisi la joie de vivre comme thème pour notre troisième numéro, est que j’ai commencé à voir des

personnes proches de moi éparpillées dans leurs idées et leurs croyances, et plus que jamais divisées. La saturation d’informations se fait tous les jours plus alarmante, au point que nous suivons l’actualité comme une série sur Netflix. La fiction de l’avalanche d’informations se substitue à la réalité, et est hypocritement perçue comme la réalité. Or paradoxalement, nous tendons vers les choses simples : être heureux, joyeux, profiter autant que possible de nos instants de vie sur cette planète.

Comme l’aurait chanté Peggy Lee, “If that’s all there is my friends, then let’s keep on dancing, let’s break out the booze and have a ball” — Si ce n’est que cela mes amis, alors continuons à danser, que l’on sorte les bouteilles, et amusons nous. — Ne nous résignons pas aux hurlements sans fondements qui inondent les réseaux sociaux. Tenons plutôt des discussions élevées et réfléchies en écoutant l’autre, en privilégiant l’échange. Discutons sans jugement, sans stéréotype, sans idées préconçues.

Frederick

Jeroen

gauche,

manteau

Y/Project,

chemise droite,

Dries

Van le

Noten,

pantalon

pull tout

Polo

Ralph :

Lauren,

chaussures

: Prada

vintage

Everything has End an except for a Sausage which hasTwo Photographie Alice Rosati

Mise en beauté : Jacob Kajrup chez Calliste

Réalisation James V. Thomas

Mannequins : Jeroen Vermeesch Frederick Hornof

Assistant styliste : Pierre-Paul Parvieux Assistant photographe : Giulia Baroni NUMÉRO III

gilet

Polo

Ralph

Lauren,

chemise

jean

Dries

Van

Noten

NUMÉRO III

Jeroen

Frederick

droite,

manteau

à :

Y/Project,

chemise

gauche, Dries

Van

Noten,

le pantalon

pull

tout :

Polo

Ralph

Lauren,

: chaussures

vintage

Prada

SKY BLUE

veste

Dries

Van

Noten,

chemise

Charvet

Paris

Jeroen,

Frederick,

pull

chemise le

Polo

Ralph

Lauren, tout

cravate

Charvet

Paris,

pantalon

Mr.

P Prada

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Frederick,

Jeroen,

veste

pantalon

Acne

Studios, tout

chemise :

écharpe

CELINE CELINE

par

Hedi

Slimane, par

chaussures

: Hedi

Calvin

Klein

vintage Slimane

droite,

gauche,

veste

et et

pantalon pantalon

Acne

Valentino,

Studios,

chaussures chaussures

: :

Calvin

Klein Cerruti

1881

vintage

Frederick,

Jeroen,

manteau

Y/Project,

chemise le

Dries

Van

Noten, tout

pantalon

pull

Polo

Ralph :

Lauren,

chaussures

: Prada

vintage

NUMÉRO III

Frederick,

Jeroen,

veste,

manteau

pantalon

CELINE

par

Hedi

écharpe

Slimane, Dries

pull Van

Valentino, Noten,

chemise lunettes

Dries soleil

Van

Noten, CELINE

pantalon par

Hedi

Bottega Slimane,

chaussure

Veneta,

chaussures

: Pierre

Hardy

vintage

Jeroen,

Frederick,

veste

pantalon

: :

Acne

Valentino,

Studios,

pull

: chemise

Loro :

Piana, Cerruti

chaussettes 1881,

Falke, chaussures

chaussures Calvin

Cerruti Klein

1881 vintage

Frederick,

Jeroen,

chemise

débardeur

CELINE :

par

Hedi Miu

Slimane, Miu

cravate

: vintage

vintage

NUMÉRO III

pull

Dries

Van

Noten,

chaussettes

Falke,

chaussures

Manolo

Blahnik

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Frederick,

Jeroen,

pull

débardeur

Polo :

Ralph

Lauren, Miu

chemise

: Miu

Figaret, vintage,

cravate

: pantalon

Charvet

Paris, :

pantalon

: Cerruti

Bottega 1881

Veneta

Frederick,

Jeroen,

veste

costume

trois

pièces

pantalon

: Paul

Polo Smith,

Ralph

Lauren, chemise

Figaret,

chemise

: foulard

Figaret, :

Lanvin

cravate

: vintage,

chaussures

Charvet

Paris, :

CELINE

chaussures

: par

Pierre Hedi

Hardy Slimane

CULTIVATED CONFINEMENT

DURING THE PERIOD OF CONFI NEMENT DUE TO COV ID19, WE ASKED SEVERAL FRIENDS TO SKY BLUE TO TA K E A PICTUR E OF T H E M S E LV E S AT THEIR HOMES, AND SEND US THE R E S U L T S AC C O M PA N I E D B Y A F E W INTERVIEW QUESTIONS AND BIOGRAPHICAL I NFORMATION. 34

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FELIX BOEHM

Royal Academy of Antwerp Alumni Felix Boehm is a man of many pleasures. Currently a brand consultant in Paris, his various talents include tying beautiful bows, hand crafting candelabras and singing loudly in public. We asked Felix, what is the essential ingredient to any memorable house-party? His reply: An important number of people you’ve never seen before.

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FREDERICK HORNOF

Frederick Hornof is a freelance womenswear designer and alumni of the Royal Academy of Antwerp. Possessing a diverse set of talents, he can often be found hard at work tending to his herb garden, silent retreating off the Champs-Elysées, or engaged in his most recent creative venture; wiggle art. We asked him, if you were to be a fabric, which fabric would you be? He replied: I would be a twisted cable knit.

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ALICAN ICOZ

A young Paris based designer, seen here at his residence in Bodrum wearing glasses by Port Ranger, a top and trousers designed by himself sur-mesure, and sneakers by Casablanca. We asked Alican, If diamonds are a girl’s best friend, which precious stone is a boy’s best friend? His reply: Emeralds, as a Taurean, are my favorite stones.

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LIBAN ALI

Liban Ali, British, working as a stylist. Born in the eighties, raised in the Middle East and currently living in Tokyo, Japan. Liban has spent two decades of his life in London and Paris, which has fueled his drive for fashion and eclectic aesthetics. Most of his freelance work plays with different cultural heritages and influences I’ve encountered throughout my time across the world. The shades of African colours or the middle eastern fabrics of his childhood will somehow come up on a shoot for a European or Japanese brand. He appreciates recreating some of those impressions in a completely different environment. We ask Liban, if you were a flower, which would you be and why? His reply: I would be the Crocus Saffron. A complex flower that has beautiful contrasting and flamboyant colours. However, the distinctive smell of its pistils is so rich in memories for me.

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ARTHUR MORISSET

Arthur Morisset is an Art Director based in Paris and an alumni of Parsons School of Design in New York. He is seen here in his French country residence. We asked Arthur, what garment or accessory should every man own that is not necessarily so obvious? He replied : Every man should own a silk handkerchief that can double as the most stylish face mask.

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L ADY

B Y 40

THE

C H A R L E S SKY BLUE

CHSHUND

A N A S T A S E NUMÉRO III

It is true that Dachshund training can be challenging, specially when it comes to mini dachshunds. And Lady, my little dog, was no exception. Born in Normandy on the D-Day-landing beaches, this French girl had, from the start, a lot of personality and attitude for someone her size (she was the smallest of the litter, and could be described as the tiniest sausage dog ever). When she arrived in Brussels, Belgium, she had not yet reached the age of one, and still had a lot to learn. The first days in our brand new gigantic flat on rue Royale were a bit chaotic for the both of us. Lady, being the size of a large rat, found difficult to adapt to the new distances she had to walk to reach my desk from her basket. In proportion to her size, it was like walking one or two football fields, several time a day (when she didn’t get lost at all!). On my side, my adapting to our new life was beyond awkward, borderline disaster. To make a long story short, unaccustomed to living with closed door, I thought appropriate to grant a 24/7 free access to my property to anyone who felt like visiting. The result of this rather peculiar lifestyle, inherited from years of bohemian escapades all around the world, ended with my precious little dachshund somehow escaping a ‘Patty Hearst kind of situation’ when a couple of homeless people, who had spotted thwe arrival in the neighbourhood of a new canine celebrity, would simply follow us, open my door and abduct Lady. But the fact of the matter is that dachshunds are famously difficult to grab and their barking is so hysterical that ‘The Disappearance of Little Maddie as a Kaninchen’ never happened.

Potty training had been an excruciating experience for my little dog and after six months, to my great despair, she was still struggling, in spite of her extensive effort. After having scientifically studied a few Youtube tutorials (around six hundred), I came to the conclusion that the more Lady was going out (according to my calculations a minimum of six times a day), the less she would be tempted to use our loft as an openspace toilet. Good news was we were living five minutes from Le Parc Royal. A cute little park surrounded by the Belgium senate, the Flemish parliament and all the embassies and consulates you could possibly imagine. Apparently, it was said that the King of Belgium did not live far away. Following some recent terrorist attacks, the American embassy was heavily guarded by hot military men, which was not to displease me. It was 42

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thus decided that we would go to the park as often as necessary in order for Lady to complete her ‘apprentissage’. The minute she entered this new territory, she immediately felt at home and completely ignored me as she started a very thorough investigation of every square centimetre available on the lawns. While my dog was ‘vibing’, I couldn’t help but notice the great number of lonely men, walking along the paths and side alleys, amongst Asian tourists, family picnicking, and young people playing frisbee with dogs. It was the beginning of spring and it was quite nice to enjoy the blossoming of all this nature and the general atmosphere of happiness and joy. I don’t know what Lady was doing when this man with a backpack who was coming at me from nowhere and almost hit me, but I was so intrigued by this sudden encounter that I couldn’t help but look back at him and noticed that he had turned too with a big smile on his face. He was actually quite handsome with his pale blue eyes and short chestnut hair. Meeting strangers in a park was, I thought on my way back, a very sexy idea. Once I arrived at my flat I decided to practice a bit of yoga, feeling invigorated by this walk in nature. It wasn’t an hour that my tiny canine roommate was already yapping at me, kindly asking to… go back to the park! Cautious, I onceded that her potty training was a priority, and having absolutely nothing else to do, I thought why not take her back. It was the end of the afternoon, and I decided to be a bit extravagant with my fashion choices and kept on my yoga short and a t-shirt to go out (a very bold choice for someone who had never worn a t-shirt in public). At the same time, I didn’t know anyone in this city, where I moved to be closer to Felix who was living in Antwerp and with whom I was very much in love.

Back to the park, Lady couldn’t help but instantly be a bad girl and the very first thing she did, once released from her Goyard leash, was an attempt to commit an outrageous felony by almost killing a pigeon. God, how high can such a tinylegged being jump! And I’m sure the pigeon, left stunned by the assault, never thought this rodentlooking creature could have ever posed a potential danger. I was surprised to see the same guy again, the one with the backpack. Actually, nothing had changed since we had left a couple of hours before. The same family picnicking in the same spot on the lawn, the same dogs playing with frisbees. NUMÉRO III

The fact that I was still immobile following the wildlife episode opposing my feral mini sausage dog to a stray bird, might have been interpreted by the unidentified walker as an invitation, because within a few seconds we were face to face, feeling each other’s breath. I was still unable to move a muscle when he started caressing my lower back, and my great state of confusion did not let me prioritise if I should be alarmed by what was happening in full view of everyone, if I should feel embarrassed by the fact that I was not wearing any underwear or if my dog Lady, left unsupervised, was not going to run away. I was thinking about so many things at the same time that when this gentleman with a backpack positioned himself behind me, apparently very happy with the situation, I did not push him away, even though he had already lowered my exercise short, and I got so carried away that I did not immediately understand we were actually making love standing in the open air, surrounded by two bushes, in the middle of a path in a park with hundreds of people around. Once the stranger left after whispering a saucy “nice ass!” I found myself with my shorts on my knees, looking for my dog who was a meter away from there sniffing around. It was then that I realised I could see everyone but no one could actually see me. A mixture of shrubs and bushes were hiding most of my body.

The Day after, I was still so distracted by this episode that I forgot my dog in the street. I was being worried, my mind was somewhere else and I hadn’t been to the park that day, leaving lady grumbling in her basket (and Lord knows how dachshund can be vocal when they’re not having their way). At the bottom of the apartment, there was a small square of grass (only as big as a handkerchief ) where I took my grumpy companion for a quick walk. Then I went straight back to my desk to finish drawing Beth Ditto’s portrait. An hour later, when I heard knocking at the door, I was surprised Lady didn’t bark but I couldn’t be bothered to look for her so I opened the door and witnessed a very bizarre scene: an Asian girl holding a shivering sausage dog staring at me with very dark eyes. Amusing fact, the small dog looked exactly like my Lady (where was she actually?). I recognised my neighbour from the third floor and said: “Oh my god, I had no idea you also had a dachshund, that’s so…” The visitor, probably thinking I was 44

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having a stroke, interrupted me: “I am almost positive this is your dog thanks to its collar. I found her completely panicked on her own at the reception of my restaurant and thought that she was probably lost. Isn’t it your dog?!” I couldn’t help but look behind me to find no dog in the flat and felt suddenly extremely embarrassed by the whole situation and decided to make up a lie. I really don’t know if dogs can understand what humans say but I would swear that I saw my mini dog rolling her eyes when I started explaining that she was such a fan of Thaï cuisine that she probably couldn’t help but run away to find her delicious restaurant in the hope of snatching a little snack. The neighbour would eventually die from cancer a few months later and take with her this very embarrassing secret. I would not go back to the park for a while, thinking the police was searching the place for two exhibitionist perverts who had committed outrageous sensual acts in broad daylight. It was obvious, even though I had this feeling no one actually saw us, that we had been reported. What if I was expelled from the country? I had already been arrested and jailed (with my mini sausage dog, who had her own dedicated cell, a cage) for defending a Syrian refugee who was assaulted by the police on a train back from a visit to Felix in Antwerp.

I cannot remember the name of this delicious fish restaurant (perhaps La Marée) where we had dinner with Ròisìn, who was having a show in Brussels that night, but I do remember that, being completely drunk, it was impossible for me to find a cab and I was eventually forced to walk back home in my children-size Ralph Lauren herringbone tweed jacket and my whiskey Trickers brogue shoes, which were probably made entirely of wood, because they must have weighed no less than five kilos each. When I finally reached Parc Royal out of breath, I knew I was almost there and even though I was, at this point, seeing double, I was quite surprised it was still open past 2am. I was informed earlier at the dinner (I couldn’t help recounting my scandalous affair with the backpack man) that Parc Royal was actually known as ‘Le Parc de l’Amour’ where making love in open air was tolerated, based on the will of someone very important and influent in Belgium, probably the king himself, who, it was said, liked to cruise at night (I did not believe NUMÉRO III

a word of that story). There even would be a police station inside the park ensuring that this giant cruising area was safe. I wanted to find out for sure and although my heart was beating fast, I entered the mysterious public space once again. It was atrociously dark in there, the trees looking like giant monsters with very long arms and crooked fingers. But not so cold actually. I could see some stars. As my eyes were becoming accustomed to the darkness, some silhouettes began to appear. First, I spotted a guy and his girlfriend cuddling in the grass. Then in a distance some heads in the bushes, like an enigmatic shadow puppet theatre. I started my night walk. I could not really see people’s faces but the place was actually pretty crowded. Most were men, a few youngsters in tracksuits, perhaps some elder gentlemen in leather jackets. Tall for most (a lot of people are tall in Belgium). I strolled around the pond where the rare wild ducks were quietly asleep and it started to feel like all the stars in the sky were illuminating this dreamlike scene. The more you walked around this unusual park, the more you passed the same people and some faces even became familiar. But then I heard: “watch out, he’s police!” I didn’t really know what I was looking for, perhaps some fresh air before going to bed, but I felt a bit like an outcast for not wearing the right outfit for the occasion. I thought maybe it was the style of my shoes or probably the cut of my jacket that screamed Police. I had an idea: COSTUME CHANGE! I was only five minutes from home after all. I didn’t calculate though that I would have the company of a sleepy rodent princess if I went back and that the next step of this after-dark cruising experience would be as a duo, but I had managed in a few minutes to put together an old cap, the sneakers I used for jogging, my yoga shorts—that already proved to be efficient—and Lady’s miniature harness. The fact that my sweater was a Céline and was worth eight hundred euros would not be an issue as it was very dark. My petite dog, who was finally fully awake, seemed to be delighted by this impromptu night getaway. The only question was “should I wear the cap backward or forward?” Anyway, I tried both ways but it’s when it was backward that I met this tall guy named Georges. My night vision had become so acute that I could even spot the seam on the back pocket of his jeans that certified he was wearing Dior Homme, and the quality of his leather jacket was not to disappoint. We laughed a bit while fucking (not far from the police station hidden behind an enormous tree) because at some point we got entangled in Lady’s 46

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leash (she couldn’t be less bothered). When I invited him home, he declined. He was beautiful, with his long curly blond locks and his beard. We exchanged names and phone numbers. “King’s names” he said. He never called me back and I’ve never seen him again after that night.

But I went back to the park to find him. Several times. Like a lot. I couldn’t find Georges. I would go back at the exact same time. Or in the afternoon, would text him from the park. But no answer. I would go with and without Lady as a reverse lucky charm. I would go in the rain (there was this little white marquee where a few guys gathered and started fucking like some sort of fairground orgy. I eventually joined), in the snow, trying to find Georges (Gosh, it’s beautiful a park at night covered with snow but it’s also very cold and it’s hard to keep focused on certain unusual outdoor night activities).

I couldn’t find Georges. Anywhere. Well one night, feeling adventurous and exploring some places in the park where I had never been before, I discovered a hidden cruising area where I found… a corpse (the park would eventually be closed for 24 hours for a police investigation). Another time I found myself in the middle of a children gang fight, probably child prostitutes, with one of the kids telling me, very proud: “We’re Albanese sir, we’re the strongest, we’ll protect you”. That same night, looking at the stars, I noticed that there were some people who were living on the trees but you could not see them during the day.

When the decision to move to Paris for business reasons was taken, I was actually spending most of my time in the park and like an addict I started getting worried I would miss this nocturnal wild life. The large number of men I was meeting outdoors had become industrial. And this is when Lady, the mini-dachshund, finally decided it was time to declare war to the residents of the pond (the rare, wild ducks) probably because she felt she was lacking time now that we had to move to a different country. It would NUMÉRO III

force the military an intervention to immobilise this out of control, no larger than a shoe, wild sausage beast. The safety of the ducks being an absolute national priority, it seems. But I was lucky enough to catch the eye of one of the army guys. One afternoon, as I passed by the park, I heard the horn of a car behind me and it was him. We met a few minutes later not far away from where I met Georges the first time (at this point I was wearing tracksuits on a daily basis and my looks could be described as more ‘urban’). This young man was phenomenally gorgeous—quite the obvious for a military guy—but his body, which was really awkward, was completely soft. From outside the muscles were visible but when touched, there were lump like jelly. His privates had nothing spectacular neither. When I left our impromptu meeting halfway through, he was so surprised that he yelled “hey! Where are you going? I’m a top you know! As our last summer was going by, the park was closed from time to time without any notice. Sometimes because of terrorist threats, sometimes because it had been privatised. The residents of the neighbourhood were a bit annoyed, and I was a bit desperate. And then Pokemon Go came to destroy any hope of night recreation. The few days of August where it was still possible to wander in Le Parc Royal, there were hordes of kids hanging around like zombies in the bushes looking for virtual creatures that were planted all around by Nintendo, but more specifically in my favourite cruising areas. There was an obvious incompatibility of quests. At that point I had almost forgotten about Georges.

Felix and I put on our best suits to go grocery shopping in the centre of Brussels. I wanted to buy some fish at Noordzee on Sainte Catherine square. Even though he only had a few suits, and not that many pair of shoes, he always managed to look extra fancy, like the son of a rich swiss banker or the heir to an old French aristocrat family. I hesitated for a moment between my Ralph Lauren and my Céline blazer, the one with the pearl buttons. We let Lady at home as canine friends were barred from stores due to very strict and specific European laws. I invited Felix to walk through the park, it would be one of the last times and realised we didn’t go there that often together. I was showing him the trees, the place where they found the corpse, the spot from where Lady’s archnemesis, 48

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the ravens, intended to terminate her by throwing a branch to her head. When we passed the pond with the rare, wild ducks, I couldn’t help but notice the young Albanese prostitutes. One challenged me when we reached their level (“It’s not nice of you to steal our clients, we thought you friend!” I blushed so much all of a sudden that I must have given the impression of an instant sunburn or a stroke. Felix, presidential as always, acted as if nothing had happened but I was sure he heard the inuendo and I finally exclaimed, a few milliseconds before my head was right to explode: “Don’t you think it’s funny the kids assume there’s such an age difference between the two of us that I could be a young prostitute going with an elderly diplomate from the European Parliament (you, en l’occurrence)?” Felix replied calmly: “Charles you’re such an arsehole, maybe this is the reason why you live alone in this foreign city with no friends. And if I may, you don’t look that young. You just look Albanese. That’s probably why these kids were concerned in the first place that you might take over their gang with that cute Céline female jacket of yours”.

He had a point. NUMÉRO III

Au de

Bonheur O u Moiun Défilé chez Soi

Photographie Nickolas Lorieux représenté par The Art Board Réalisation James V. Thomas

Mise en beauté Jacob Kajrup chez Calliste Mannequin Théo Cheron chez IMG Vidéo Patricia Castellanos Casting Ikki Casting Remerciements Kenta G. et Hailey W.

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veste

gilet

Polo

Ralph

Lauren,

chemise

Cerruti

1881,

cravate

Dior

Homme

vintage

cardigan

Acne

Studios

manteau

vintage

cardigan

Acne

Studios,

chapeau

HIZUME

NUMÉRO III

manteau

Lanvin,

pull

Polo

Ralph

Lauren,

pantalon

Smalto

pull

Polo

Ralph

Lauren,

chemise

Dries

Van

Noten,

pantalon

Paul

Smith,

ceinture

vintage,

chaussettes

Falke,

chaussures

CELINE

par

Hedi

Slimane

manteau

Loewe

SKY BLUE

veste

pantalon

Dries

Van

Noten,

pull

Loro

Piana,

chaussures

foulard

CELINE

par

Hedi

Slimane,

chapeau

vintage

NUMÉRO III

veste

pull

Polo

Ralph

Lauren,

chemise

Cerruti

1881,

cravate

Dior

Homme

vintage

SKY BLUE

costume

trois

pièces

Smalto,

chemise

Dior

Homme,

cravate

vintage

bolero

ceinture

CELINE

par

Hedi

Slimane,

pantalon

Smalto

O DE S E V E N

B 62

D A Y S

O F

S I L E N C E

E SKY BLUE

SIL E N CE I N

S M A L L

R O O M

E NUMÉRO III

A L O N E

Y 63

SKY BLUE

INTRODUCTION By Savannah Nolan

A mononymous person is an individual who is known and addressed by a single name, or a mononym. Madonna, Elvis, Cleopatra, Michelangelo, Cher, and Evgenythey all have a family name, but the power of their persona deems it completely unnecessary. I’ve always called him “The Evgeny”. He is instantly recognizable. He stands apart from the crowd. I don’t particularly know why, he just does. In French they say, “Je ne sais quoi.” Evgeny is an enigma. I first met Evgeny three years ago at a party. He had long blonde hair and looked like a hybrid between Brad Pitt in Interview with a Vampire and Warren Beatty in Shampoo. His expressions were unmanaged and effortless. He had a big beautiful smile and floated around the room like a butterfly. Finally, he landed on me. He spoke smooth English with a heavy but elegant Russian accent and was wearing a Scottish Kilt. An international man of mystery. The first time he ever spoke to me he said, “Hello, did you know when I was growing up in Soviet Union, we had no food. I was always hungry and I would fantasize all the time about having sex with a chubby girl, so baby, you should love yourself !” He floated away again yelling back towards me, “Just love yourself!” Who was this guru in a kilt who used to have a fat fetish that was triggered by Soviet culture? I was instantly intrigued. Suddenly, he floated back. The second thing he said to me was, “Hello, I’m Evgeny.” And then he fluttered away again. He drifted back a third time, this time, with two lovely people behind him, “This is, Susan and Clayton,” he said, “my two partners, we are all in love! Let’s have champagne!”

Evgeny is larger than life. He is like a movie character. When he cooks, he adds all the spices. When he speaks, he speaks in multiple languages. When he acts, he uses every emotion. When he meditates, he travels to the deepest unknown parts of his soul, always in search for more answers and greater understanding. When he dances, he sets into motion every part of his body. When he loves, he loves with all his heart. When he thinks, he does so with an open mind. When he drives a car, he usually gets distracted by looking at castles on the side of the road that he might live in one day, and comes close to crashing but never does. Evgeny is a dreamer. What makes a person an artist? What makes a person unique? I say an artist is somebody who truly understands themselves, and by understanding themselves, they understand the world around them. The Seven Days of Silence in a Small Room Alone, performed by Evgeny, was a brave journey inward to in order to understand the deepest parts of himself. Today is March 29th, 2020. The world is quarantined because of the Coronavirus. Evgeny is putting together a book about his life and performance art. We are secluded together, hidden away from the world, in the beautiful countryside of Normandy, France with his family, friends, and lovers. He will celebrate his birthday soon. He is sitting on the windowsill looking out, speaking on the phone next to me, chatting in Russian, faster than a Ferrari driving down the Corniche. I don’t know what he is saying, or to whom he is speaking - but I’m sure it’s fascinating, just like him.

NUMÉRO III

Paris, February 1, 2020

ORIGINS

My name is Evgeny. I was born in Tbilisi, Georgia on the 24th of April around 4 am in the year 1985. Georgia was under the regime of the USSR. I now live and work in Paris, France. After I became a French citizen in 2018, I began in earnest to launch my career as an actor and an artist. Now my life is my art. It feels like I have had several miracles in my life. The first was when my mother was pregnant with me and her sister stopped her from having a Soviet style abortion: a bottle of Vodka and a very hot bath. My aunt felt something was wrong and broke down the door of the bathroom to get in and stop her. The second was when I was 4 years old. While I crossed the road to go to the park, a big yellow Volga taxI hit me. My uncle saw the accident from the window, ran out and took me to the hospital – only my shoulder was broken.

the drug overdose. For at least two weeks, I hated everyone. In order to understand my true nature and my true potential I decided to remove all comforts from my everyday life. To see and feel what is really there beyond the bubble of comfort. I also decided to not eat for the first 3 days, I would only drink water and herbal tea. Then have one fresh juice in the morning and one soup in the afternoon until the 7th day. My belief is the purification of this body can make my soul more welcoming and more alive. I don’t really understand what the soul is, but I truly believe that it came from God. Something pure and beautiful with a different understanding of life. In some way, life itself guided me to this experience. Is this experience an art performance? Is it a spiritual experience? Or just escaping from my everyday life? Trying to slow down and just breathe? I believe that it is a mix of them all.

The third time I was 5 years old and I was trying to fix a light which wasn’t working in the common space of the apartment building where we lived. I climbed a ladder to get to the light and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground on the other side of the room. My grandmother found me and started to cry, but I lived. I had a protector. I’ve always had protectors.

I don’t know what will be uncovered during these 7 days. In addition to writing and painting materials, I brought some books into the room. I read The Art of Stillness – Adventures in going Nowhere by Pico Lyer on the first day. Besides reading, I could choose between 3 activities in that room: Sit.

When I was 18, I had an out of body experience because of a drug overdose. I saw myself lying unconscious on the bathroom floor. There was a question about whether I should go back or leave, but it wasn’t me asking this question. As I looked down at my body with the person who was taking care of me, the only thing I saw was love, so I decided to come back. As soon as I made this decision, I was back in my body and regained consciousness. Love brought me back. But I was very miserable after 66

Stand. Lie down. When I meditated, my favorite position was laying down. During the first days, when I wasn’t eating anything, my meditation resulted in several naps a day. When the sun went down, I read the New Testament of the Bible until I fell asleep. I felt good at the end of the first day.

SKY BLUE

February 2, 2020

FEAR AND PAIN TRANSCEND INTO STRENGTH AND JOY The first time I came to Paris, before I experienced all the palaces and Michelin-starred restaurants, I stayed in a tiny, dirty room, and I thought, “Oh my god, if I ever move to Paris, I hope I will never have to live in such a tiny, dirty space.” But I woke up in my 8 square meter room and I watched the sun rise, and I started to paint, and it made me feel good. Then I wrote all morning. I felt abandoned by my father as he left my mother when she was pregnant. I felt abandoned by my mother because she made me live with my grandmother in another town until I was 8 years old. As a child, I always dreamed of having my own space. When I finally moved to be with my mother, we were all living in one room until several years later when my brother and I finally got our own shared room. I felt like an outsider in my childhood. I was a “different” kid and more sensitive than most boys, who were aggressive towards me: I felt more comfortable in the company of girls, loved nature, and played with dolls. The threat of violence by boys made me very unhappy, but there was always someone who protected me. At the age of 14, my father wanted me to follow his career in the army, and my mother wanted me to go to a car mechanic college, which were both the wrong choices for me. By the age of 15, I started to go out. I started to discover my sexuality, and build a circle of friends who were more free, more different, and more like me. I started economics college and moved out of my parents’ house when my father was on a mission in Chechnya, otherwise it would have been impossible for me to leave. Once I moved out of my family home, my life became much more interesting. My first love, Vladimir, was twice my age, and had no idea I was a minor when we met. Our travels changed my perspective of the world. I was shocked by how people in Spain and Thailand were open about their sexuality, and I realized I was never going to be happy living in Russia after seeing the openness possible in other countries.

In 2003 I graduated from economics college and decided to go to London to study English. I was 18 years old and arrived in London with £19 in my pocket and a visa for 3 months. I took English classes but couldn’t find a job. London was very hard on me, so I moved back to Russia, but this time to Moscow, not my hometown in the south. Moscow was a very tough city. It made me stronger and more of a survivor. I took a job at a restaurant called Propaganda, which became a gay club on Sunday night after the dinner service. At this time I met a man named Vladimir, who had the same name as my first love. I decided to leave Russia to find freedom. I chose France for its beauty as well as its university system, and Vladimir loved to eat, loved to travel, and loved the culture of France. He agreed to support me in my pursuits and dreams, so I moved to Strasbourg to learn French and in 2007 to Paris. Vladimir had invested in apartments there so I didn’t have to worry about where to live. In the summer of 2008, I visited my childhood friend Veronika. She knew me very well and encouraged me to develop my natural talents as an actor. Her words inspired me to search for an acting school when I came back to Paris. I studied Le Jeu Devant La Camera for a year at Acting International. It was a very exciting year but I also faced the challenge of being cast in roles in France with French, English and Russian accents. As the year drew to a close, I realized the best way to create economic security for myself was to postpone my acting pursuits for a time, and return to economics. The next year I enrolled at La Sorbonne. When I graduated, I decided to make an independent life, obtained my working papers, and started a new job. Thus I started to live the Parisian life fully, establishing a large circle of friends. We spent a lot of time hanging out at Cafe de Flore and partying. I am very grateful that my past led me to one of the most beautiful cities in the world, living my dream. The challenges of youth and childhood form conditioning that limits us. By accepting that this conditioning exists, we can stop fighting with the norms of our society and transcend them.

NUMÉRO III

February 3, 2020

IT’S NOT WHAT YOU LOOK AT, IT’S WHERE YOU LOOK FROM I have always been curious about spirituality, and the dimensions of life we cannot see with the human eye. I studied different teachings like Buddhism and Kabbalah during the times of my life when I was disappointed in myself or others. The times of crises. At the age of 29 it was one of these points in my life. I wanted to have some stability. I felt that I was ready for that. My first step was to go to a silent retreat with my friend Tish in the south of Portugal with the Guru Mooji. I was already studying his teachings online. And I was very curious about the experience of silence. The most profound state that I achieved during this retreat was the connection with the “outside world”: it became one with me. The separation between my mind, body and the physical world vanished. There were no boundaries. I was connected to everything. It was a very profound episode of my life. When I came back to Paris my life started to change as I lived with the freedom from boundaries that I had discovered. At the end of the summer I met Clayton and later his wife Susan. My exploration of freedom from boundaries gave me the strength to bridge their relationship with my love for them both. In this way, I found stability in my personal life, and brought a new stability to their long-term marriage. This foundation helped me obtain French nationality a few years later. I’ve been meditating almost every morning. What does that mean? It’s not about a physical position or activity. For me, it’s more just a state of beingness/stillness. It’s not related to this physical world. I usually do it in the morning when I’m taking my bath. It’s like starting my day with a renewed mind or state “0”. So my thoughts are more clear and my actions are more pure. After five years with Clayton and Susan, the stability of our relationship began to change. I was claimed by a lover outside of the relationship, and added to the turbulence of my life. This situation was driving me crazy because I couldn’t understand how I could be in love with all three of them. Strong feelings between everyone nearly led to the collapse of our relationships. I started to go to church and meditate more, and at the end of the year I called my mom and told her the truth about my private life. I told her that I was in a relationship with Clayton and Susan and recently with 68

another person. I told her about my dark thoughts. She bought me plane tickets and I went to Russia after 10 years of absence. I spent time consulting with my family, my friends and myself. When I returned to Paris I began to reconcile with my lovers, and continued the preparation for the experiment of solitude and silence I knew I would need to regain the spiritual peace I discovered in Portugal. On the third day of fasting the only thing I could think about was a French baguette. It was very hard to concentrate on writing or anything else. I hoped that I would have the strength to keep going with this experience. On the third day, I felt the weakest since I started. But when I concentrated on “beingness and stillness”, I felt the strength and power to keep going. Physical movements did not disturb this state of being, which is always available no matter what circumstances we are in. It’s a kind of acceptance to know that you’re going to die - there is nothing you can do about it, and at the same time it makes you more alive. A paradox. To be aware of that state and open yourself to it is tremendous freedom. It doesn’t require anything. Just be open to that stillness - but not with your physical body, rather with your inner self. I practiced yoga to maintain my body, and ate healthy food. But this time I wanted to learn more about my inner world. I want to go deeper and deeper until I could touch and understand my soul. I made this ritual of coloring all the cracks on the wall with yellow paint, and it felt like I was fixing myself. I made paintings called “The view from my window” and ‘The window”. Today I felt very vulnerable. My days became longer and longer, my psyche more and more fragile. After the baguette, I thought only of the fresh fruit and soup that would arrive on Day 4. It was very hard to write. Thoughts were not coming easily like the first two days. It was my first day of painting. It helped a bit to stay inside of the room. I asked myself if I could make it through 7 days. Then it was time to meditate.

SKY BLUE

February 6, 2020

NEVER ENDING STORY

When you open yourself to the unknown your way of life changes.

all. I really couldn’t sit, stand or lie down anymore.

The first few days I could not believe that I would make it until the 6th day. I didn’t do it to prove anything to anyone, I wanted to do it for myself to push my limits. So on day 6, I could not believe that I was still there in the room but it made me feel proud. I felt like a different version of myself. I was silent, I was starving, but I was still there. If I could remain in this room for a week in silence, I would have the strength to overcome my obstacles more peacefully.

During this period I had time to think about my past, my future, my friends, my enemies, my family members who have died and my family members who are alive, nature, my dreams, every single aspect of my life and nothing at all.

Pushing yourself past your limits is the best exercise you can do for yourself. In the end, it’s all up to you to create your vision of life. You give meaning to it all. Nothing is possible without God’s presence, but it is up to you to create what God is. And it is closer to you than you think. I would not be here if I didn’t believe that there is something bigger than me. I hope this experience will make me a better version of myself with God’s help. Today was another one of the hardest days in the room. My mind was so loud at this moment that I couldn’t do anything. Even laying down was impossible. I had hoped writing it down would make it easier, but it reminded me of the third day. I knew that it would pass, it was just hard to believe at that moment. These past days, I had three possibilities: to stand, to sit or to lie down. I felt like I overused them

I wanted to welcome the child inside me who didn’t have the chance to experience childhood. Having this time alone helped me to establish my relationship with that inner child of mine. My soul is old, yet I still feel very curious about life. The seven days of silence was only a small chapter in the book of my life. I always dreamed of getting married and having a family. Until I turned 30, my mom asked me all the time when I would get married. In the country where I was born, people married in their 20s. My first challenge was that I was into men. The second challenge was to find “the one” who can actually love me and who I would love back. I ended up being on many dates and in many relationships from the age of 15 until the age of 29. It’s very hard to stop me once I have an idea in my head. At the age of 29 I met Clayon and Susan and became their partner. We started a magical relationship against all the rules of society. My dream is still here. It’s been almost 20 years that I’ve been waiting for this dream to come alive and it took me 7 days in silence in this small room to realize that I can make it happen.

NUMÉRO III

February 7, 2020

ONENESS AND CEREMONY

Oh God - it was the 7th day of me being in the room. I was almost finished! I knew that there would be people waiting to welcome me back to my life at the end of the day. What I did not know was if the moment of return would be a ceremony, a ritual, an art performance or something else that would surprise me. What to call it? I did not know. 70

I thought of it as a kind of marriage. I would marry myself, marry life, and marry all the people who would come to share my return. It felt like it would be an act of completeness and oneness. That’s how I wanted to end this experience and it made me very joyful. I proposed to myself to marry myself and to be good to myself through better or worse until my last breath.

SKY BLUE

Normandy, November 8, 2020

SILENT POEM

Silence is the language of God, all else is a poor translation. - Rumi I am a big believer in silence. I breathe in the future and breathe out the past. The moment where I “find myself ” is between these two breaths. That moment is also representing infinity and death. Yes, both. My favorite moment in the movies is when two lovers look at each other without saying a word. There is so much in that silence. When I am surrounded by nature, which has no language, the stillness gives me more than words. When I meditate, it connects me to a “serenity field” that helps me accept any kind of situation which is out of my control, and my day becomes more calm and joyful. Silence can be the most powerful tool that humans possess. By practicing silence, a new state of consciousness revealed itself to me. It opened a door for me that only I could open. I felt the whole universe began to unveil itself. Learning that everything is interconnected was a powerful discovery. The deeper I went, the more intuitive I became,

which led to a new way of living. I feel like I can be a part of building a new world. There is no feeling of loneliness. I am “one” with that endless source of life in the universe. Once you have experienced that, you start to accept yourself for who you truly are. You can find an equal partner in life who resonates with the same vibration as your soul. It is not about two halves anymore, it is about the whole, complete human being, meeting the other equal one. And you can be partners for life in an authentic way. After you have done the work by simply turning your attention inward, the world will offer you romance beyond your imagination. Its heavenly, beautiful, magical and miraculous. Once you open that book of self-discovery, you will never be on your own. Do it. You become one with life and life speaks through you. It never leaves you. The peace that silence brings is always here and available no matter your age, your origins, or your status in life. You can be anywhere with anyone. It is beyond words. It’s the poetry of life. A silent poem.

NUMÉRO III

Hommes à l'aubed'une Nouvelle I Vie

Photographie Noel Quintela

Mise en beauté Jacob Kajrup représenté par Calliste

Réalisation James V. Thomas

Mannequins Huang incarné par Wang Chen Ming chez IMG Angelo incarné par Matthieu Pleinfossé chez Elite Eric incarné par Victor Perr chez IMG Cédric incarné par Charles D. chez M Management Guillaume incarné par Aradj Sissoko chez IMG

Texte Jules Romm

Assistant Styliste Pierre-Paul Parvieux 72

SKY BLUE

Guillaume,

pull

Eric

Bompard,

foulard

CELINE

par

Hedi

Slimane

veste

manteau,

Huang,

Cédric,

: chemise,

Blue pull,

cravate

Marble,

pull et

: pantalon

Eric :

Prada

Bompard

Huang 28, PUBLICITY

Angelo - My most prevalent fantasy My deepest regret. Two years on, I anticipate his arrival. What has remained but a rolodex of memories will now metamorphosize into three-dimensional form. The thrill of affairs cost me far more than the thrill of the chase ever would; And soon? I’ll have my answer. All the pain, the promise, the preparation; I will wrap them in cellophane to present as a tangible hologram. He will nod - He will forgive - And I will know.

Huang,

veste

Blue

Marble,

pull

Eric

Bompard

Angelo 22, ART STUDENT

He’s not quite as old as my father; At least, that’s what I’ve come to resolve. Yet, still, I drink Cédric like morning coffee and feel his effects all day long. His strength sustains me, his attitude fuels me, the ambivalence halts us both. I need his candor, but long for reciprocation more. Whilst he has asked me to see him today, little will he know the silent observation that awaits. After two months - Is this love? They say you can make an interpretation from an empty cup of loose leaf tea; And I’m thinking It might be time to switch. NUMÉRO III

Angelo,

chemise

CELINE

par

Hedi

Slimane,

veste

Lanvin

Eric 31, LAWYER

Whilst grief exists much like a river, so too does desire; And after five years of acquaintanceship, the water still ripples. Cédric. For the past couple of weeks, I have followed his every motion like a sullen shadow in the searing sun. Though I have been with and benefitted from the company of a wealthy English woman, I long for the attention of a man - This man. As my profession often necessitates - Today is judgement day - And the verdict is final.

Samantha,

Cédric,

costume

noeud

Yves

papillon

: Saint

CELINE Laurent

par vintage,

Hedi

Slimane, lunettes

chemise :

: CELINE

Brioni, par

chaussures

: Hedi

Pierre

Hardy Slimane

Samantha 36, INVESTOR

Anything - Anyone - Can be made into an investment; It’s the theorem I exited childhood from - And the one I graduated from university with. One might say I juggle useless men, but in actuality, I finance worthwhile boys. Betrayal, as evident in one of my younger counterparts, will not be tolerated - Especially when it involves an older man I detest. This evening, I will be waiting outside the café my boy has arranged to meet this man in. This “mutual fund” may end, but not before he escorts me to an opening tomorrow.

Angelo,

Eric,

veste

manteau

chemise

Cerruti Dior

1881, Men,

gilet

et chemise

foulard :

: Dries

CELINE

par Van

Hedi Noten

Slimane

Cédric 50, ART BUYER

It was Angelo’s lips that first captivated me; The sylphlike fingers thereafter. I’ve planned an indulgent getaway for us this weekend; And with my eye for precision, the tickets and accommodations have long been paid for. Thus, there exists no other response but compliance, but a shallow feeling is not what our bond has been built on. He exists as the one, serious love in the course of my history - And our future, I hope, will be as long as the runway our plane will depart from.

Samantha,

Eric,

Cédric,

veste

lunettes

Dries :

Van Chloé,

Noten,

manteau

foulard

pull :

: CELINE

Polo par

Ralph Hedi

: Lauren, Slimane,

chemise pull

: :

Eric

Cerruti

Bompard

1881

Prada

Guillaume 30, PHYSICIAN

I am about to leave this god forsaken town. I just need to see something with my eyes before I decide to do it. Huang, my boyfriend for the past few years, is in love with his ex, I know it… I am just waiting to see it. I can’t deal with this anymore, and I know I am worth so much more. Good ridance to both of them if it’s true. But, I need to know. I need to see it. I think that he is going to do something drastic today, and I know that he is always at the same café after lunch.

H O LY

B 86

J SKY BLUE

OLLERS

O NUMÉRO III

M 87

Atlantic City, 1997

Slim could feel himself unravelling like an orange losing its peel. In the fluorescent lighting of the Golden Nugget’s VIP bathroom, he could pass for 130 pounds; Though in daylight, would forever remain all of 122. As he leaned over the cream-coloured marble and into the mirror, he studied the same features that found him on the right side of easystreet since the morning he wailed his first cry. The long, pale hair grey eyes, and skeletal frame would only remind him, now, of the same, small boy running after his grandfather’s Ford Fiat in the Albuquerquean heat. It would remind him, too, of the same, small boy fumbling to open a can of Spaghetti-O’s whilst his mother watched television and did crosswords with a ballpoint pen. “Don’t go,” Slim cried, wiping at tears with the back of his hand - Cut from the bark of climbing too many buckeye trees. “Got to,” his grandfather asserted, tearing the cellophane wrapper of a honey bun with his last remaining teeth. “Go on back inside, now. Take care of your mama. Lord know she need it.” “Still naked in the torso, filled with ideas, I see,” Gio mused, startling Slim. A pear on steroids, Gio’s size and shape existed only as a natural extension of the man deep inside. Leaned against the doorframe, he poured just enough cocaine onto the fleshy ‘L’ of his thumb and forefinger before snorting it like a pig to a trough. The powdery white remnants would soon disappear after one lick of his giant tongue, made infamous since around the time Elvis discovered the peanut butter and jelly sandwich. “You thinking about me?”, he smirked, licking the palm of his hand to smooth down an oily black cowlick. “No,” Slim mumbled, covering his package as he tripped over his own foot. 88

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“Too bad. You know I’m the one, kid.” “The one?” Slim asked, searching for his clothes - Spotting them on the closed toilet seat. “Sure. The one who inherited this casino, the one who paid for that little gold tap above that little gold sink, the one who pays for your suit to be laundered, night after night…and the one who got you the best gig you may ever hope to have. Who knows where you’d be otherwise, right? Maybe on a sofa somewhere eating peanuts in your underpants,” Gio chuckled, tightening his tie. “Stand up for a minute. I want to take a look at you.” As Slim straightened his posture, Gio lit a cigarette and let it hung in his mouth like a sick man’s last hope. As he picked fuzz from Slim’s collar, he placed both hands on his shoulders and blew out smoke from his bottom lip - Exacerbating an underbite. “There he is. You’re the prettiest one there is,” Gio offered, tucking a strand of Slim’s hair behind his ear. “Don’t,” Slim recoiled, swiping at his hand before being shoved down onto a vanity chair. “You may have come to gamble,” Gio snarled. “But you don’t get to play.” • Two-Tone wiped the last of the night’s sweat from the nape of his neck before draping the same cloth over his shoulder and scratching the last of his lottery tickets with the freezer key. Two years into sobriety, he could still be found vibrating like a skull pressed firm against a window in a moving car. Working nights in a casino kitchen tested all of the stamina, all of the willpower and temptation once preached to him by everyone in the nunnery off Rockingham in Spearfish, South Dakota. As a youth, Two-Tone knew what his schoolmates thought - Knew what they said - Knew how they felt about the contents of his lunchbox in the cafeteria. As they pinched their noses, napkins would fly in his direction as they’d chant for him to clean his face, wash his clothes, “Ride a donkey back to Mexico”. “Come on, come on…” he pleaded under his breath, as the metal formed a red indentation against his fingernail. “Match. Come on, just match, match, son of a horsin’ bitch…” • “Deal me in,” Two-Tone grumbled, suckling the last of the fryer oil from his bulbous thumb. “Bad morning, bad afternoon…bad fuckin’ night.” “No staff during operating hours,” the dealer declared, eyeing Two-Tone up and down like a halfeaten apple hovered over by flies in the middle of day. His body - That NUMÉRO III

of someone who spends time lifting dumbbells, but also guzzling beer and fried avos, did little to intimidate the dealer. “Shouldn’t you be behind the line scrambling eggs for the penthouse suite?” “How about I save the eggs and scramble that wife of yours instead? She still showgirlin’ here? Deal me in.” As Two-Tone asserted himself, the dealer further examined the surrounding patrons; Elders who had taken the bus from retirement centers, westernized brown men from New Delhi, collegiates, their professors, transgender women he wouldn’t mind bending over his knee and spanking into the dawn of the following day. “How’s the night?” Slim asked, coming up from behind Two-Tone. “Same old, kid. Who’s on the docket?” “Sinead O’Conner. They’ve been advertising her for months…” “She’s the bald-headed one, ain’t she? I’ve got my head in a skillet every night; Damned if I know who’s performing here. You gonna deal me in or what, Beau?” “I’m not losing my job on account of you, Horace.” “…Horace? So where does TwoTone come from?” Slim questioned. “Wasn’t always a line cook, kid. At one time, I was playing bass for different groups in New York City. They called me Two-Tone ’cause I had a familiar beat.” “Second time I’ve caught you at a craps table in half a year,” Gio exclaimed, causing the three men to jump and the surrounding gamblers’ heads to turn. “Wasn’t enough to gamble all your inheritance away, now you have to gamble your earnings away too?” “Was just catching up with Beau here.” “Come on,” Gio declared, meeting Two-Tone nose-to-nose. “You can do better than that, little brother.” • Slim’s feet stuck to the surface tack of the marble floor he walked on. He had hoped to be met by an adorning God. Instead, he got the barback, picking at his teeth with a paper parasol and checking the faux Piguet on his wrist. Sitting down, Slim ordered and began to fish for the olive in his drink. Swirling his finger, the carbonation clung to his skin as porcelain did to the casino walls themselves. His stomach rumbled, but his break had already lapsed and Sinead required 24-hour safekeeping. “I met him, you know,” a smooth voice declared from behind. Turning around, it could have been Johnny Mathis himself, Slim figured; Light 90

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brown, familiar toothy grin. His dark, curly hair offset the bright white enamel of his teeth; A tailored, dark red suit would round out the image and cause Slim to grip his glass far too tight. “…Who?” “Bowie. That’s who they’re playing on the stereo. Met him in ’74.” “How’d you manage that?” “How does anyone manage something like that? I was sleeping with his road manager,” he smirked, adjusting the wide-brimmed hat on his head. “…And I was part of his tour lineup at the time. I have to admit - Walking up to the bar, I figured you a woman. Must be all that hair.” “Must be,” Slim shrugged, as he sucked the last of his drink through its straw. “You want another?” the man asked, gesturing to Slim’s rocks glass. “I shouldn’t.” “Why not?” “My work starts soon. Only wanted one. The boss owes me, anyway.” “Owes you for what?” Slim cleared his throat and scratched at the wood counter in front of him. “Alright, I won’t press. What do you work as?” “Security.” “Well, good on you. Can’t say I ain’t surprised, though; You couldn’t possibly weigh more than the kids that come in here on Sundays to see the man with the monkey.” “I manage. What man with the monkey?” “Anyhow, I hear a chick named Sinead O’Connor’s going on tonight.” “She’s been here before. You don’t know her?” “I don’t know much about modern music. They call me JohnJoe, by the way,” the man added, outstretching his hand. “You okay, Slim? You seem a little…overtired,” the bartender interjected, one eyebrow raised. “Think I’ll go for a walk before Sinead pulls up with her limo.” “Can I join you?” John-Joe asked, reaching into his pockets for something he’d never unveil. “Having a nice vacation, Slim?” Gio sneered from the peripheral. “Biggest act of the season gets here in less than an hour and you’re over here chewing the fat with the bartender.” “Actually, I was talking to…” “No one. You were talking to no one worth a dime inside a whole bucket of change.” • “I hope I didn’t get you into any trouble,” John-Joe offered, lighting two cigarettes in his mouth before handing one over to Slim. In the staff level of the underground parking lot, the cold air caused the gravel to swirl and the attendant to look around NUMÉRO III

before finishing into one of the casino’s plastic cups. “It’s fine. Like, I said, he owes me.” Slim bit at his bottom lip before being transported to that block of time with Gio - Rummaging in his wallet for a Trojan not past its expiry date. It was his bottom lip that first made Gio sweat - And Slim couldn’t deny he had taken notice to Gio’s elongated stares and winks after completing the most menial of tasks. But he needed to get home to feed the dogs and Gio was the only person to offer a ride. At least, that’s what he reminded himself of whenever the memory came into the room before knocking. “You knew this was coming, Slim.” “Well, I don’t want it to-” “Quiet. I’m almost done.” By the time Gio had turned over the ignition, Slim had already begun to feel sore. It had been a while - Not since the previous summer - And that boy on the boardwalk had ambivalent hands. “So, Slim is what they call you?” John-Joe asked, shaking Slim from the memory. “Since I was old enough to shuffle cards.” “I like that,” John-Joe smirked. “You were a gone for a minute there, weren’t you? What was that about?” “Nothing.” “You worried about your boss?” “Worried?” Slim replied, shaking his head. “Angry, then.” “We had a…” Slim began, gesturing discreet with his hands. “You? You and that boss who stinks of maduro cigars?” Slim nodded. “You regret it?” “A little.” “That’s okay. We all got them, you know? Regrets. That’s why I’m here celebrating my ten-year anniversary. And you’re all of what, 21?” “22. What anniversary?” Slim inquired, smashing his cigarette beneath his shoe. “Hey, you know what I do with my regrets?” John-Joe smirked. “I don’t think you can really do an-” “AWOOOOOO!” John-Joe howled, as he tilted his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. Slim jumped. “This way,” he offered, taking Slim by the hand before leading him to one of the lot’s cement walls overlooking the marina. Lit by columns of bows and ports, Slim squinted to make out the tide of the water rocking the motorboats from beneath. The vessels appeared as tiny white teacups - Floating on an ocean made of tea. Slim was only sorry he couldn’t provide the sweetness of honey. He leaned his elbows on the wall and let the palms of his hand cradle his head. 92

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“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Slim inquired, eyeing JohnJoe from a peripheral. “I am. I am enjoying this. You want to try it?” “I’m alright,” Slim replied, meeting John-Joe’s glance, full-on. “Entertain me a little with something?” “With what?” “I have this little polaroid camera thing. Hold on,” John-Joe instructed, holding up his pointer finger, as he took the travel-sized tool from the inside of his coat. “Take a photo with me?” “I’m not really one for-” Slim started before being interrupted by the click and shuffle of the camera. “Too late,” John-Joe smiled, shaking the photograph. “Actually, here, you take it. Now, back to the howling.” “I’m fine…” “22 years old, you should be howling during every downbeat of the day,” John-Joe smiled, nudging Slim’s shoulder with his own. “That is, unless you’d rather go back inside an-” “AWOOOO!” Slim hollered, placing his hands on the wall - His legs planted as he arched back. “Don’t tell me the vacation’s been extended,” Gio sniggered. “First I find you boozing, then I find you…the hell are you doing out here, anyway?” “Just getting some air before Ms. O’Connor gets here.” “She is here.” • “Getting into a habit of this,” JohnJoe remarked, following Slim’s trail as he pushed his way through the casino floor towards the concert hall. All around, slot machines went off as alarms do early in the morning. Technicolour, cocktail napkins, and bankruptcy would forever remain the tone, the context, the scab picked after trying, desperate, to heal and start anew. “A habit of what?” “Getting you in trouble with the big man.” “Yeah, well, take my word for it when I say there’s nothing big about that man.” “You ever see backstage?” JohnJoe offered, affixing the cufflinks on his sleeve. “Of course. I’m a security guard, remember?” Slim replied, slithering through an overweight duo of businessmen. “No, I mean, where they store all the in-house instruments. They have a place like that here, you know.” “En-route,” Slim asserted as he turned on the little radio clipped to the back of his trousers. “Ms. O’Connor’s status?” “In hair and makeup,” Gio grumbled. “Estimated time before she goes on? … Hello? … Hello? … En-route backstage … En-route … H-Hello?” NUMÉRO III

he questioned, shaking the device. “Hello?” he asked into the radio once more, before falling to its death on the floor. Crouching, Slim searched for the AAA batteries that had rolled away into an unreachable oblivion. “Come on,” John-Joe offered. “There’s time.” “Time? She’s here, she’s-” “In hair and makeup,” John-Joe interjected. “Come on.” • “I don’t tell fibs, do I?” John-Joe smiled, gesturing to the family of horns, electric guitars, and discombobulated drum sets that filled the damp interior of the 600-square foot interior. “Gio never mentioned anyplace like this existing here,” Slim replied, wide-eyed. “This one’s signed by Keith,” he marveled, holding up a black Fender stratocaster. “Who would keep a guitar signed by Keith Richards out of a locked display case? Just asking for it to be boosted.” “A real intelligent person,” John-Joe answered, walking, slow, towards Slim. “But none like this,” he added, gliding his hands down Slim’s arms until their fingers weaved. “This isn’t-” Slim began before being silenced by John-Joe’s mouth - Smashed firm against his. As they backed into a corner, in unison, Slim sought reprieve from the intensity on a bass drum, laid horizontal. Straddling a sat Slim, John-Joe pressed his hands against the wall, looking down onto Slim’s hair Glowing from the one black light used to illuminate the space itself. “Go ahead,” John-Joe granted, directing Slim’s hands towards the zipper of his pleated olive trousers. With both hands, Slim invited John-Joe’s penis into his mouth with the desire missing from any encounter previous to this point. Maneuvering his head into a figure-8 as he drew and released John-Joe from the suction of his lips, JohnJoe exhaled and leaned his back as if begging a spirit above to take him - All of him. The entirety of his mouth glossed and enflamed, Slim stood up and cemented his chest to the wall. Unbuckling, his trousers fell to the floor and made a chime-like sound Echoing and bouncing amongst the unfeeling four walls. Licking the palm of his hand, John-Joe entered Slim with an ease, a force that made his breath travel back inside his throat and down the wrong trajectory. Coughing, he regained himself and squeezed JohnJoe’s left wrist. “I’m fine, keep going.” “You’re okay?” “Keep going.” Utilizing the back of Slim’s neck as a balance, John-Joe squeezed as he grew closer to the paradise in which 94

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the night had presented itself - In all of its youth, its abuse, its rage. “That’s it, that’s it, that’s it,” he exhaled, reaching the end of stimulation before taking himself out of Slim and reaching for an embroidered handkerchief from his suit pocket. Wiping himself clean, John-Joe reached inside the sash tied, to maximum force, around his hat. “Take this,” he instructed, catching his breath as he pressed a 1000-dollar chip into Slim’s palm. “I’ll be seeing you, Slim.” • “Where you been, man? Gio’s been searching between every pair of tits in this place looking for you,” TwoTone asked, noticing Slim at the bar fumbling to remove the paper from a straw. “I was… Nowhere, I was talking to this man.” “What man? Gio didn’t mention nobody else with you.” “Yeah, I was. Here,” Slim pressed, taking the polaroid from his pocket. “His name is John-Joe.” “Who in the… I swear this looks just like…” “He’s nice. He bolted, though. You’d probably get along with him, too. He’s our kind, you know? Not like the rest of the ooze in here…” “Can’t be,” Two-Tone asserted. “It can’t.” “Can’t what? … What? … You know him?” “He looks just like this guy from way back who used to fill in for all the percussionists that were too loaded to go on stage. This… I couldn’t remember his name, but… this is him.” “Okay. So?” “So he drank himself to death in 1987 before going onstage with The Pretenders. You never heard that story? That’s why all concert staff gets breathalyzed and why The Pretenders haven’t been back to play since.” “What do you know about a… A man with a monkey?” Slim swallowed. “A man with a monkey that kids came to see here.” “Monkey…? Wait, there was ‘Monkey Moe’. He did all these tricks with this little monkey on his shoulder.” “1987,” Slim whispered to himself, backing away and fumbling over his left shoe. “Ten-year anniversary.” “Whoa, whoa, whoa…” TwoTone intervened, holding Slim up by the arm. “What’s happening, man?” “I’m just…I’ll be over here,” Slim replied, clearing his throat as he made his way over to a roulette wheel. “What are you doing? The hell are you…? What the hell do you think you’re doing, Slim?” Gio asked, saliva foaming in the crevices of his mouth. “I came to gamble,” Slim answered, turning to face Gio as he held up the yellow chip. “And I’m going to play.” NUMÉRO III

DOR I A N N E GR AY AT YOU R SERV ICE FOR E AC H I S SU E D OR I A N N E W I L L HAND SELECT Q U E S T I O N S TO BE ANSWERED H E R E I N H E RO A DV IC E COLU M N

bviously this period has been very trying for me. As a single man, on top of it all! Do you think that it’s ok for me to have hook-ups during the period of Covid? I almost tried a few times but decided that it wouldn’t be prudent… Thank you for your reply! Jean-Philippe

Dear Jean Philippe, I’m Dorianne, sex & relationship counselor. I’m not Dr. Fauci from the American CDC. Sorry. Is there any way to make a « sexy zoom » call perhaps? D.G.

PL E A SE SE N D YOU R I NQU I R I E S TO D O R I A N N E @ S K Y B L U R E V I E W. C O M 96

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love reading your column. I am gay but have dabbled in the lady pond. Not too long ago I cheated on my boyfriend of 6 years with a woman… she is currently pregnant by me, and doesn’t necessarily want to have me in the life of her (our) future child. This seems like it would be ideal, but actually, I would like to be very present in this child’s life. How do I tell her, and how do I let my boyfriend know without ending our relationship? Best, Paul

Dear Paul, It is very hard to tell you what is the best strategy to convince all of them. You want to take the role as a father in your girlfriend’s future family as you have mentioned « her (our) future child », but you dont want to loose your relationship with your boyfriend of 6 years. Well, there are a lot of gay people that have had children. But usually that happens before meeting their dearly beloved, or they agreed to have a baby with their actual partner. Neither of those situations pertains to your case. Be reasonable. You can’t get both. Be responsable. You can’t handle it all. Even if they agree to let you do as you want, you will hurt one or another, or both. Don’t be a selfish person. D.G.

uring these trying times I broke up with my boyfriend over a stupid argument about housework. We were together for 2 years, and he does want to get back with me, but I feel like the subject is important. Is it really though? Many people tell me I did the right thing, but then I know people will always tell me what I want to hear thank you Dorianne! Your’s truly, Damian

Dear Damian, Well, one of the most popular reasons for divorce or separation during the pandemic was « disagreement about sharing housework chores » or « disappointment with housework performance by my partner » So you’re not alone ;-) Arguing about housework is important and an essential step for couples. By arguing, you can see the real character of your partner, and also figure out what each person expects in life, through housework. No one is perfect. That’s why we argue and find compromises, and then adapt ourselves to « couple’s life » little by little. If both you and your partner are ready to be in « couple’s life », I would suggest that you give him another chance, even though a lot of new arguments are inevitable. But if you (or he) expect(s) the other to adapt housework performance for your (his) expectations, let him go. D.G.

will get straight to the point : I found my boyfriend watching cartoon porno recently. I found this totally shocking, and really strange. What should I do? Too embarrassed to say my name

Dear… Mr embarrassed! Is this shocking and strange because it’s Cartoon Porno? Or because it’s Porno? Please clarify what points are shocking for you. If it’s 2D character or 3D character issues, I have nothing to tell you. If it’s hard core-beyond of ethics and moral standards, better to go to get some help. D.G.

spent confinement with with my boyfriend and my mother. You can imagine that it was a bit stressful, but overall it went pretty well - that is until I found out that my mother and him were constantly talking behind my back about me, and not in a positive way. How should I express to both of them that I want this to stop? Best, Jeremy

…

Happy holidays, guys. Let’s be prudent, reasonable and strong for awesome year, 2021. Love y’all. D.G.

Dear Jeremy If they (your boyfriend and your mom) find the motivation to have daily chats, That’s awesome! even though they mock you behind your back. You can tell them « I’m very glad that you guys have become so close! I’m such a lucky person to be with you two. » Having a great boyfriend and a great mom at the same time! And so close to each other! please share with me what you guys talk about when I am not around! I feel lonely sometimes!” Good Luck, Jeremy :-) D.G.

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