CHARACTER: Professor Charlene Cox
Professor Charlene Cox was an elitist snob. Or so she pretended. Her nose tilted upward when she spoke creating an illusion of height so she could look down at her disciples. In the case of those taller than her, she used this head position to allow her eyelids to shade her doubting eyeballs. She often assumed she was right before anyone even spoke. In the case of her colleagues, her eyes got beady as if she were plotting strategic counter attacks, awaiting a chance to jump on the battlefield. She always enjoyed making piercing eye contact while unleashing rhetorical swords.
Despite these affectations, she was brilliant. Everyone agreed on that. She was not a case of affirmative action. She had paid her dues and then some. There was not a piece of the western art historical canon she could not pontificate upon, at least to some degree. And, if on rare occasions she found herself at a disadvantage, she’d manage her remarks to stay relevant until she could step away for some digital due diligence.
Her expertise was Cosmic Sheness. A term she coined to summarize the fact of female divinity and worship found in every culture around the globe. But, a fact cleverly absent in core curricula at most leading institutions, and most readily proved via art. Often times, she silently chuckled to herself at how irate her colleagues got at the use of the term cosmic. So comfortably settled in their negation of any reality in spirituality that their panties got in a twist when they were asked to seriously engage the topic. Professor Cox knew her secret weapon was everyone’s fear of the unknown, of death really, and its use to destabilize the security of so called facts.
However, she did have one weakness that was kept well hidden, her taste for young male graduate students. Fortunately, so far, her skills at diplomacy had always worked in her favor.
CHARACTER: Nicky Paul
Nicky was brilliant. The kind of brilliant that is able to electrify a room by taking a rigorous topic and engaging it with humorous analysis - war, dystopia, ethnic conflict. He also did drugs. The latest being a current drug of choice, Molly. He claimed if you liked to dance, it was totally worth it. But, beware of the hangover. Somehow his willingness to lose control to psychedelics instilled in him the daring he needed to exercise intellect in public forums. So he made sure to pop a pill every now and then to keep himself on his toes.
A product of a colonized history, born and raised in London, educated at elite institutions, the science of the mind fascinated him. Anything that activated his mental apparatus was pure pleasure, an endless playing field.
This preference for cerebral acrobatics, inflicted with passion, was also reflected in his astrological chart. Gemini moon, mars in Scorpio. And, lets not forget ambition. That Capricorn sun propelled him to top honors at Cambridge and Oxford. A darling in the socially conscious cultural arterati, he was the man of the moment.
But, at heart, he was a mama’s boy. In his prime at 45, he was still broke. His best friend John, another orgasmically pleasing intellectual, teased him about it constantly. However, usually a sensitive topic, being a mama’s boy had its advantages. In America, his new home and an unsympathetic place for romantic intellectuals, his mind was only partially prized. In America, it was his flamboyance and social skill that put the money in his pocket.
Nicky knew he couldn’t just look good on paper in the land of opportunity. He’d have to move the crowd. And, that’s precisely what he did over cocktail chatter at exclusive private parties he managed to crash as a result of his education.
In fact, his boyish charm and skilled wordplay had landed him a few stellar recommendations and a free ride to one of Halston College’s grad programs.
However, those who knew him well knew that despite his facility among over-educated adults, Nicky was a child at heart, forever curious. That trait was what kept his ideas sexy in academic circles. His mother had cultivated it. Showered with love and adoration as a child, she still owned him like a baby.
Professor Charlene Cox was an elitist snob. Or so she pretended. Her nose tilted upward when she spoke creating an illusion of height so she could look down at her disciples. In the case of those taller than her, she used this head position to allow her eyelids to shade her doubting eyeballs. She often assumed she was right before anyone even spoke. In the case of her colleagues, her eyes got beady as if she were plotting strategic counter attacks, awaiting a chance to jump on the battlefield. She always enjoyed making piercing eye contact while unleashing rhetorical swords.
Despite these affectations, she was brilliant. Everyone agreed on that. She was not a case of affirmative action. She had paid her dues and then some. There was not a piece of the western art historical canon she could not pontificate upon, at least to some degree. And, if on rare occasions she found herself at a disadvantage, she’d manage her remarks to stay relevant until she could step away for some digital due diligence.
Her expertise was Cosmic Sheness. A term she coined to summarize the fact of female divinity and worship found in every culture around the globe. But, a fact cleverly absent in core curricula at most leading institutions, and most readily proved via art. Often times, she silently chuckled to herself at how irate her colleagues got at the use of the term cosmic. So comfortably settled in their negation of any reality in spirituality that their panties got in a twist when they were asked to seriously engage the topic. Professor Cox knew her secret weapon was everyone’s fear of the unknown, of death really, and its use to destabilize the security of so called facts.
However, she did have one weakness that was kept well hidden, her taste for young male graduate students. Fortunately, so far, her skills at diplomacy had always worked in her favor.
CHARACTER: Nicky Paul
Nicky was brilliant. The kind of brilliant that is able to electrify a room by taking a rigorous topic and engaging it with humorous analysis - war, dystopia, ethnic conflict. He also did drugs. The latest being a current drug of choice, Molly. He claimed if you liked to dance, it was totally worth it. But, beware of the hangover. Somehow his willingness to lose control to psychedelics instilled in him the daring he needed to exercise intellect in public forums. So he made sure to pop a pill every now and then to keep himself on his toes.
A product of a colonized history, born and raised in London, educated at elite institutions, the science of the mind fascinated him. Anything that activated his mental apparatus was pure pleasure, an endless playing field.
This preference for cerebral acrobatics, inflicted with passion, was also reflected in his astrological chart. Gemini moon, mars in Scorpio. And, lets not forget ambition. That Capricorn sun propelled him to top honors at Cambridge and Oxford. A darling in the socially conscious cultural arterati, he was the man of the moment.
But, at heart, he was a mama’s boy. In his prime at 45, he was still broke. His best friend John, another orgasmically pleasing intellectual, teased him about it constantly. However, usually a sensitive topic, being a mama’s boy had its advantages. In America, his new home and an unsympathetic place for romantic intellectuals, his mind was only partially prized. In America, it was his flamboyance and social skill that put the money in his pocket.
Nicky knew he couldn’t just look good on paper in the land of opportunity. He’d have to move the crowd. And, that’s precisely what he did over cocktail chatter at exclusive private parties he managed to crash as a result of his education.
In fact, his boyish charm and skilled wordplay had landed him a few stellar recommendations and a free ride to one of Halston College’s grad programs.
However, those who knew him well knew that despite his facility among over-educated adults, Nicky was a child at heart, forever curious. That trait was what kept his ideas sexy in academic circles. His mother had cultivated it. Showered with love and adoration as a child, she still owned him like a baby.