Day 160-In Search Of Edgar Allan Poe

This is a quaint and curious tale about three good friends on an epic journey to meet their 4th.  It is also really about a big black bird which was destined for greatness.  If I may just start from the beginning,  or should I say, the end...

Once Upon A Midnight Dreary,

a penniless poet chose to die hanging from a tree in a remote part of India. Despondent as his poetry could find no publication, he had thought that Death might  bring him the fame that had eluded him and that he could perhaps be vindicated by history.

If you can't live by your pen, you might as well die by it, the Poet thought, after all, a pen is mightier than a sword! And so in that sad poetic moment of mixed idioms and terrible grammar, the giftedly bad poet kicked the bucket he was standing on, right next to where he left his pen.

Unfortunately, no one ever found the dead poet. No one that is, except his pet raven. Adopted only for its endless supply of feather quills, he was the only one who heard the Poet choked on his last word "Nevermore.."

Meanwhile, lying Weak And Weary

was a vain and shallow Rajah on his red and luxurious bed. Consumed- if only he had-by an obsession to stay slim, the anorexic Rajah had alienated himself from friends and family for there was never any meal to share. And so on his last day when one should be dressed in only his best, the Rajah laid lamenting  how none of his fine clothes could fit anymore.

Luckily, I still have my  "silk taffeta hat", the dying dandy thought, right at the moment a raven sat on his head. 

Before the Rajah could ask the raven why his beautiful feathers were missing, his hungry heart stopped beating and he died with the bird ceremonially on his head instead of his pretty turban. Nevermore, the raven screeched, like a final nail in the coffin. Thus all hopes were dashed for our dead dandy to ever be decked out again.

Speaking of deck, now, on the same day In That Bleak December

a "bad influence" was to be punished for the unprecedented success of infecting a whole village of men with a love for drink and gamble and no more care for work. 

The heads of the village being all the wives of these men thought and rightly so that the rotten apple must go. With a unison cry of Nevermore, the women strung the rogue up high to put fear in the others before sending him to prison. Alas, just as the  same raven perched upon his bust, the drunk was already dead from alcohol poison.

Dreaming Dreams No Mortals Dared Before

And so thanks to the Raven, the three met and found in Death what they each could not get in Life. 

At long last, the Dead Poet had his audience, fans  who could not tell bad prose from poetry and after a few drinks, seemed to enjoy every single painful rhyme.

Dandy Rajah made "just as skinny" friends and to add icing on the cake that they never had to eat, "No Skin and Bones" would finally, according to this woman's magazine be really, really "in".

Last but not least, Dead Drunk found warmth and acceptance with his new poker pals and so inseparable they all seemed  that  the trio were soon dubbed Three of A Kind.  

Let Me See, Then, What Thereat Is..

This bliss lasted for what seemed a lifetime when really, it was not before long when discontent settled in. 

Dead Poet begun to yearn for wider readership. With his volumes of new work, inspired or not, he needed more and more.

Dandy Raj started to wish for new admirers.  What  was the point, he asked,  in being "in" when the crowd was only three?

And when Dead Drunk discovered "Bridge", a game for pairs to play, it was  the  final straw.   Three's no longer company, they must now make four.

Poring over an ancient map one day, the  Raven  pointed to a star. A nova in between heaven and hell,  "Al Aaraaf" was  a stop for the afterlife. The fowl stood  still by a grave  decorum and  with fiery eyes he seemed to say : That's the home of your 4th friend, Poe, the soon to be legendary Edgar Allan Poe.

The 3 friends smiled and knew at once that Poe was just the guy. He was a writer, like the Poet, always obsessed, like dear Dandy and thanks to a mounting gambling debt,  was  almost never sober.


How clear it was to sundry and all, that the fates of the Raven and the men of four would inextricably intertwine, forever more. 

Afterword

On Day 160, our 3 dearly departed souls began with their prized possessions,  their long journey across the seven seas to find Poe.

In 1845, Poe's dark poem of lost love, "The Raven" shot him to fame. 

It was often said that in Poe's last days, he was almost always found  delirious, mumbling and laughing to himself. We know now, don't we, that Poe was not insane. He was not alone. 

In the fashion and style popularised by Helene, may I end this post with the following Credits:

3 skeletons bought at Daiso during Halloween 2009, now I finally know what for 

Whiskey bottle bought at the Miniature Museum of Taiwan

Raven is modified from a yellow bird bought from Bangkok and made with mainly styrofoam

Map is part of a printed wrapping paper I bought at Il Papiro in Venice

Luxurious red "bed" is actually a fabric sample for high end upholstery (Teflon finish, 59% Acrylic, 41% polyester) from Luxuriate Furnishing

Dandy's turban bought at Little India 

Deck of 55 cards (full suite with 2 "joker"cards and 1 spare forgot which card) made with graphics from wrapping paper called "Carte da Giogo" bought from il Papiro on one side  and on the other, individually designed card with the central theme on ghouls and monsters which I found on the internet

Wooden box for card made with ice cream stick and filigree piece from Chinese fan

Quill pen made with real feather from a raven,which incidentally is more commonly known as "crow" here. As Faiz puts it when I queried why the 2 names, he told me "Crows' for the movies, Raven, poetry".