Burl Ives appeared in a TV musical version of Bluebeard.

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I go out for the day. See you tonight,” he told his redeemer, his beloved bride. And he added a warning, “Go in all rooms but one.” His words echo those of our most famous God, you know the one, who said (It’s just the just of it.) to his most God-like creations, “I leave you in paradise; eat from all trees but one.”

What do you expect Bluebeard’s bride to do? What do you and I want and wait for you and I to do?

Remember that his beard repelled most women, but her soul was sensitive, and his eyes gained her trust. She loved him and accepted his love for her. And we know from experience, from those nights by the fire, hers was a premium brand of love, on which they rise to new heights of awareness. Her empathy, surely, matches his toward her,

But she broke trust when she googled him, or rather;
When she entered the forbidden room, she found corpses, and she knew. Her husband is a killer, who insulates himself from the feeling of his prey. He is a coward nourished by the fears of his prey. He is a man who willingly causes what in the end must come to all.

There is only one ending to the story. She escapes to live another day, and Bluebeard, exposed, forthwith, is destroyed.

My variation is to say, feel free to explore all of my rooms, my papers, my website, and then watch me squirm as I try to defend what are clearly rotting corpses with my initials carved into them. I leave myself exposed, not out of honesty, but out of awareness that only truth is easy.

No one cares where no one goes, unless to consider my candidacy.

How could you allow the wolf to lead you down the garden path.

Do the wolf and the granddaughter ever save each other?

Let it be known, Bluebeard’s secret starts with an empty room, which he gradually fills with the corpses of the faithless, the independent minded fighters who refuse to obey him.

That’s his problem and he rots in it.

In our search for self-understanding, we allow ourselves to be misunderstood.
copyright 2003 Peter Dizozza ------------------

Hi, Tightness!
Hi, Taughtness!
Now that you've tightened me, what can you teach me?
Naught have I taught you.
How thoughtless,
Why think so?
'Cause I'm here to hype you.
Then I'm here to haunt you.

hit it.

Blow tropic wind,
Fill the air
With sound vibes, with light vibes, with solids, with liquids.

Thank you, O content provider. You're bill I'll pay monthly.

Stromboli Meets Snagglepuss by Peter Dizozza