Fruit Consumption
By Lei Tian
Toulouse Lautrec was about to incite a critical confrontation. The weight of the fruit plate on his shoulder seemed insignificant to the amount of methodical planning contained in his head for the past weeks, now was the time, perhaps the only, he would be alone with the courtesan to discuss a certain person of concern. Christian was away with Zidler, discussing the fees of his service, a matter Zidler had figured would be easier, and more economical, to discuss with Christian alone. So Toulouse was stuck in the middle of rehearsal with the princess, in an elegant elephant room that breathed love and drank money.
Toulouse was a man, albeit his deformed legs, and Satine was a woman, lusted after by all promiscuous men of Paris. But the stars did not deal that hand, instead the cards the dwarf received contained a more complex story than the simple love. Love is basic and vital for survival, but only basic. Friendship, entangling loyalties convolute man's quest for love, meshing that which is rudimentary with intricate complexity. Toulouse loved Christian.
Bisexuality was rare among the masses but common among bohemians at the time. Toulouse's attraction to Christian was understood; the English man embodied an ideal, a Virgin Mary to the Bohemian tenants of dream chasing and freedom seeking, and thus he was innocent and beautiful. Toulouse was his best friend, connected by a hole in the ceiling, and a bond of friendship that existed like the net of a fisherman, pulled tight by both men, until Satine, the enchanting trapeze artist, had fallen like a bundle of red silk into the mesh at the center of the rough net.
Since then Toulouse had been losing sleep. Certainty of his intuition that his love was unrequited, and absolution in Christian's love for Satine were not a slap of rejection on Toulouse's face. His love had resignedly surrendering itself unwillingly into the irrational desire for Christian's companionship. The next few weeks of entertaining this desire had been a form of self-destructive torture for Toulouse. The lover's gazes stung like acid, their flagrant flirtations often made him wish for an ear deformity, and all the while he dutifully memorized lines and served his heart on an oversized fruit plate. But still the loyalty and friendship remained as the love died of consumption.
The confrontation began as a cautious Toulouse stuck a delicate foot in the door of conversation. But he soon figured that "Hurt Christian and I'll insure you a Bourgeous hell" was hard to insert into a conversation with ease. The soon to be actress raves passionantly about the majestic ending. He studies Satine carefully. She radiates through rouge makeup and a purple dress, the epic site of battle between her diaphragm and corset. She seemed frail to him, with only her determination to keep her strong. He is overwhelmed with pity and doubt, his previous notion that the relationship had been based on mawkish sentimentality and physical impulsiveness had disappeared. Leaning on a pillow in front of him was the mermaid caught in a fisherman's net, not a Siren. And she loved the poet, as Toulouse had. He stares at Satine's unwavering green eyes, focused on the fruit he carried, soon to be fermented by time, and the words the Argentinian had whispered for the past weeks travels into the room of star crossed lovers.
It will always end bad.
Note From the Author: I hope this has not offended anyone. Historically, Toulouse was an actual person and he was bisexual. Noted on the official Moulin Rouge online site (www.clubmoulinrouge.com) , it is said that it was intended for him to show an inclination of attraction that was more than friendship. So thus I wanted to write a kind of a vignette, which is why this is soo not plot intensive. I happen to not believe in the quality of a story that isn't told well, but didn't trust myself to write a whole story. So Anyway, Moulin Rouge is a wonderful movie. I d/led it and watched it more than 3 times, the songs are so good, Elephant Love Medley kicked ass, 'specially when the heart shaped fireworks exploded from the doorframe when Ewan was singing. I almost died, it was so beautiful. Opinions on my story would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!! -Lei
By Lei Tian
Toulouse Lautrec was about to incite a critical confrontation. The weight of the fruit plate on his shoulder seemed insignificant to the amount of methodical planning contained in his head for the past weeks, now was the time, perhaps the only, he would be alone with the courtesan to discuss a certain person of concern. Christian was away with Zidler, discussing the fees of his service, a matter Zidler had figured would be easier, and more economical, to discuss with Christian alone. So Toulouse was stuck in the middle of rehearsal with the princess, in an elegant elephant room that breathed love and drank money.
Toulouse was a man, albeit his deformed legs, and Satine was a woman, lusted after by all promiscuous men of Paris. But the stars did not deal that hand, instead the cards the dwarf received contained a more complex story than the simple love. Love is basic and vital for survival, but only basic. Friendship, entangling loyalties convolute man's quest for love, meshing that which is rudimentary with intricate complexity. Toulouse loved Christian.
Bisexuality was rare among the masses but common among bohemians at the time. Toulouse's attraction to Christian was understood; the English man embodied an ideal, a Virgin Mary to the Bohemian tenants of dream chasing and freedom seeking, and thus he was innocent and beautiful. Toulouse was his best friend, connected by a hole in the ceiling, and a bond of friendship that existed like the net of a fisherman, pulled tight by both men, until Satine, the enchanting trapeze artist, had fallen like a bundle of red silk into the mesh at the center of the rough net.
Since then Toulouse had been losing sleep. Certainty of his intuition that his love was unrequited, and absolution in Christian's love for Satine were not a slap of rejection on Toulouse's face. His love had resignedly surrendering itself unwillingly into the irrational desire for Christian's companionship. The next few weeks of entertaining this desire had been a form of self-destructive torture for Toulouse. The lover's gazes stung like acid, their flagrant flirtations often made him wish for an ear deformity, and all the while he dutifully memorized lines and served his heart on an oversized fruit plate. But still the loyalty and friendship remained as the love died of consumption.
The confrontation began as a cautious Toulouse stuck a delicate foot in the door of conversation. But he soon figured that "Hurt Christian and I'll insure you a Bourgeous hell" was hard to insert into a conversation with ease. The soon to be actress raves passionantly about the majestic ending. He studies Satine carefully. She radiates through rouge makeup and a purple dress, the epic site of battle between her diaphragm and corset. She seemed frail to him, with only her determination to keep her strong. He is overwhelmed with pity and doubt, his previous notion that the relationship had been based on mawkish sentimentality and physical impulsiveness had disappeared. Leaning on a pillow in front of him was the mermaid caught in a fisherman's net, not a Siren. And she loved the poet, as Toulouse had. He stares at Satine's unwavering green eyes, focused on the fruit he carried, soon to be fermented by time, and the words the Argentinian had whispered for the past weeks travels into the room of star crossed lovers.
It will always end bad.
Note From the Author: I hope this has not offended anyone. Historically, Toulouse was an actual person and he was bisexual. Noted on the official Moulin Rouge online site (www.clubmoulinrouge.com) , it is said that it was intended for him to show an inclination of attraction that was more than friendship. So thus I wanted to write a kind of a vignette, which is why this is soo not plot intensive. I happen to not believe in the quality of a story that isn't told well, but didn't trust myself to write a whole story. So Anyway, Moulin Rouge is a wonderful movie. I d/led it and watched it more than 3 times, the songs are so good, Elephant Love Medley kicked ass, 'specially when the heart shaped fireworks exploded from the doorframe when Ewan was singing. I almost died, it was so beautiful. Opinions on my story would be greatly appreciated. Thanks!! -Lei