Each thing as it is

"She has no name, the red-haired girl from the bog, but she is easy enough to identify, for old legends declare that anything red and white is fairy born.  White dogs with russet ears, white cats with brindle stripes, liver-and-white cows, roan pinto horses, all such creatures bring the magic and threat of fairy to our world. Her dancing partners should have recognized their danger, for red-haired girls with milky skin- any anyone resembling them, even nonredheads wearing red petticoats- are omens of ill fortune, folklorist Lady Wilde informs us, while archaeologist Thomas Westropp records the belief that a mere glance from a red-haired girl can kill a horse or a man. But, in thrall to her otherwordly beauty and without thought of safety, lovers follow the red-haired girl, the Leanan Sidhe, the beautiful fairy mistress."

From, The Red Haired Girl from the Bog, by Patricia Monaghan

I am enjoying research for this *ENTIRELY* too much. Now just to see if I finish it or get employed first. Hopefully the latter.

Left an important bag at the Snowman, and they have my medication. DIVE, DIVE, DIVE.

My legs are shaking
twitter by twitter,
by shiver and I have so much fear
of going under.
Understated.
Understood.
Under expectations.
Under water, overflowing.
Bubbling through.
There's flood,
I am flowing.
There' s tornado,
I am blowing.
There's fire,
Better get going.

I am loose.

It is 3 am on a Saturday.
I definitely didn't know that until I returned home.
...?
Being the spaceface barter bum I am (and I mean that in a mostly positive way), time and date don't usually factor into my schedule all that much, but I can usually tell you whether it is a weekend or weekday, morning or night.
Now?....nope. Definitely not.

Due to the miracles of modern medicines, large amounts of stress and unexplained (so far) degrees of heightened sensory awareness and more severe photosensitivity[Read: Everything is colourful and loud and really REALLY bright], my already irregular biphasic nocturnal sleep schedule has evolved into a "I might be tired...ZZzzZZZzzzZZZzzz" sleep schedule. Doesn't matter where I am. Or what I was doing. Or whether I was supposed to be awake. Is not concerned with the fact that I've already slept 13 hours today.

Maybe I'm a mutant?

So, it's definitely a pet peeve of mine when you are talking quietly in a restaurant/coffeehouse/store aisle/dmv waiting line and the people you are sitting near don't even try to hide the fact that they are eavesdropping. I rarely mention particular names when talking about embarassing stories in public, so I figure that if you are graceful about your eavesdropping then you deserve to know what I'm talking about and its your own fault if you're surprised. But these people can't even manage some class about it, you know?

I am being quiet for *your* benefit, people.

But, as it seems that people perk up when you mention international affairs, silly putty, hammers and the hammer is my penis anywhere near each other.
It's not my fault if you're listening in, I'm being quiet and you're being obvious. So, I've given up and started really enjoying the looks people give me.

Interesting out of context lines that have occured at tables I am sitting at in the last three months.

[on phone] "You have poetry where? Um, well, I don't know how to get out magic marker...no, don't use that there."

[on phone] "Bob, BOB?... Shipped himself in a crate?!"

"so if that's there... okay, so there's your jugular. Thanks for the assistance."

"naked soccer...acid....people in yard...police....not pleasant. No want."

"...that's definitely not the sort of meat I was talking about. New topic?... New topic that isn't like the last one?"

:"Stop gesticulating with your thigh!"

"How did Zeus afford child support for all of his children?"

"I am capable of stupidity in multiple languages. Pretty nifty." "I'm capable of being too proud to notice I'm stupid in one language" "Bravo, bravo"

"...No, no, just because it was a boy's dorm." "Dean Thomas was so totally a cotton ball, honey. Jo just never mentioned it because of the bad reception when Santa Claus, I mean, Dumbledore, sprung out of the closet- ta-da, avada kedavra and all."

"So, how many jumpropes will we need to suspend a bucket of goop from the roof?.... Do you still have those heatresistant gloves we used to use to play with fireworks?"

"Stop looking at me!" "Stop being interesting to look at!"

"It's okay if the Christians don't believe in me, I understand. I stopped believing in capitalists for a while and I got in less fights too."

"Picking up people at gay bars. Usually results in picking up gay people...how are you surprised?"

On the winding subject of the bible: different versions, different interpretations, gnostic stories, and original sin. (Rude humour)

( Seemed really intimidated by strong women )
( who got begotting with some tail from the next creation over (New location opening soon. We have mcflurry's!) )

"We love to overlook the boundaries which we do not wish to pass."
Samuel Johnson.

I need to stop smiling
I need to stop coughing.
I need to stop ignoring the changes needed to be happy.

I hope I won't.
I'll try.
I will.

Automatic Writing, 8 minutes. 2:24 AM, May 31st.
Unedited for grammar,content or appearance otherwise. RAYOR*
Under cut for metaphor-based violence, massive purposeful chaos, and possibly upsetting images.

One of the less common interactions with the Muse (the patron, the lady, Leanan, the scrawl,the meaning) and the creatives (the lightning-droplets, the fireflies, the letters). Introduction and escape of"Doubt".
Also known as block-breaking.

Please read, comment, think, enjoy.

*Read At Your Own Risk.


( The woman your mother warned about comes into the scene and saves )

Languages studied for more than 2 months...

French (Cajun,Metro)*
LSQ (Quebec Sign Language)
Spanish(Mexican)
Cherokee (Spoken only)*
English (American)*
ASL(American Sign Language)*
Arabic(Egyptian,MSA)*
Hebrew(Standard)*
ISL (Israeli Sign Language)
Romani (Vlax)*
Russian(Pomor)
Japanese(Tōkyō-shiki)
Irish Gaelic

...The actual degree of proficiency on each of these is debatable.
There is an asterick next to the ones studied in years.

"Well, I would not have moved if I knew you were here
Its some special action with motives unclear
Now you'll haunt me, you'll haunt me
Till I've paid for what I've done
It's a payment which precludes the having of fun"

Air (October 3rd,2008)

He holds the pencil that spells important
in a tight fist
almost bending the graphite
until a little bit crumbles.
No persuasive speech,
he has what he wants
no panty line under the skirt,
eyes focused on college rule.

When he presses the plastic charcoal into my
palm I turn back the pages to three words in pen, unread black blood, and point.
"I love you," I(t) said.
"You may be a one." I(t) whispered.
I scribbled something, adding,
"We've lost it."
He nods to the present tense and the anticipation
of an "only" that is written in a fingertip stood up
by a pen.
My head is paralyzed from shaking.
There can be no one where there is only one
Alone with my composition book, ritalin and stares
He will not read me...

8 full moons later,
1 for each pomegranate seed I left planted in that notebook.
I crawled out from under his heavy stone
and see Helios kissing each and every
blade of grass
and raising yawning bright yellow babies from the ground
where they can live without strangling others,
patience is not a virtue
and weeds are just very tenacious flowers.

I've met a someone whose calluses fit mine
his arms playing safety belts
as I giggle the names of everything I see
and try to adjust myself to being seen.
But I wait.

The first,
His name fades into the front pages of the notes
not daring to reach a hand into the delicate pages of the latter.
He told me to wait.

I stop holding my breath.
and breathe.
breathe in ember
fire imminent as I kiss company.
The smoke will hide him (1st) poised to erase
as I try hard to quit. (start)
As for what, I pretend I don't know.

A recent conversation with my sacred self involved:

mudslides
broken compasses
cornhusk dolls
fangs
this giant wooden wheel shape that was drawn everywhere (?????????)
broken ham radio
demi tasse cups for combat
"wooden spoon of protection"
Bloody Mary's (the drink)
Giant sunflowers
baby frogs looking for food
endless napsacks (see: bag of holding)
cayenne tea
gate made of feathers
spider web shawls
"safety beret"
very loud cicadas
black cohosh
broken fiddles
A sacred being living in a lean-to.(Figures.)

( Places I've been in last 6 )( Places plan to visit 5 yr plan )

How many sleepless,upset,shaky-handed,yelling disabled people does it take
to thread a sewing machine,
repair the bobbin feeder after it breaks, rethread it,
discover that the thread is cheap, switch to upholstery thread,
repair the motor, reoil it, untangle the thread,
retrieve the fabric after the machine tries to devour it and then start over?

More than two apparently.

Yet, we are stubborn.

I (and then, after a few hours, with assistance from my mother) started this project a little before noon yesterday. We have stopped for one sleep break at 1 am (3 hours long), and for intermittent restroom breaks. It seemed like we had the pleats started on this kilt until the string started knotting, then eating.

So, we're back to handsewing the entirety of this.
We are taking a break to eat.

EDIT: 3:09 pm, Ironing, final touches.
EDIT: Another upside, I don't remember the last time my mum and I got along this well. Maybe the key to not treating each other as "me vs. you" is to change it to us vs. them (the kilt, in this case.)

EDIT: HAIL ERIS! (Leanan would like her. They're giggling at me right now.)
 

There were gunshots down my street, then shrieking of a woman within earshot, the yelling of a man. It hit too close to home, in a few ways, quite literally.
I decided to ignore my first instincts and take the first thing that I immediately hate most in this world, Men who distreat their wives to call upon the second thing that I most immediately avoid in this world. The police.

After being on hold with the emergency operator for a good time, I felt disassociation start to hit me like bricks...I could've done something right, but stupid, and I was glad that after 10 minutes I finally got an emergency operator to take me off hold (just before I was finished lacing up my docs, and reaching for the door).

They showed up, and things seemed to calm down. I was happy for that.

Gryffonophenon is spending some time with me till I come out of the state and calm down.
-
A

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( I'm making a pinafore and it will be covered in DINOs. Made hummus with the pope and about to enjoy the rifftracks for Twilight. Perhaps most surprising,I've started writing and sending pitch letters for travel and "bohemian lifestyle" pieces in indie magazine/zine/blogs again. I'm terrified.)

I've been told by more than one person that I am surprising lately, something I find interesting.

So, the biannual writer's block post.

What are three things you'd be interested in me posting about?

Comment or Message me.
-A

Warrior work is not hard, but being emotionally present for (and therefore more competent at) it is unfamiliar to me. After my trip, the first time I've felt present for more than two hours or so at a time without nophenon or boysquatch's company, this *must* be a priority.
Laundry set aside, scheduling myself out of the fog.
So, as it is, I am responding to emails and taking my tardiness into account as I do so.

I owe emails tomijan ,featherynscale ,ambface, gmere and druidevo  regarding barterwork. They are on their way.

I have not forgotten about you.

EDIT: add jbrenner , stregalunae , and opaljax  to that list.
SQUEE.

"Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."- John Lennon

En route to PHX. Finishing short story piece, should be mailed out by 15th AM.
From there will travel to Santa Cruz, CA where I will be handling various business, but mostly visiting myriad_rainbows  who is one epic lady.

Nervous as hell but embracing a zoobi* attitude.

In other news, Willow comparisons are hilarious and embroidery makes me feel like a grandma but results in cool clothes.

I'll probably update daily while gone.

-
A


*zoobi is the hebrew phonetic for "Fuck It"

13) Describe your weirdest dream involving a writer, book, or literary character.

In a Farenheit 451-esque world, I am killed trying to rescue books from a burning building. After James Spader in a phone booth shows up to retrieve my soul I am delivered at the gates of heaven.
They are guarded by Tom Cruise. I proceed to ask him questions about Scientology. He insults my mother and we get into a fistfight. God comes out to break it up, unhappy with the hold up in the line.
After Spader explains the circumstances of my death, God (who is, in fact, Liam Neeson) is unsure on whether or not this classifies as an act of heroism or suicide.
I am sent to wait at John Lithgow's house in a purgatory-like suburban reality where I meet
Mark Twain, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Ken Kesey and Noam Chomsky. Too cynical for heaven and too insubordinate for hell, they have been living in John's living room for the last 20 years.
After a riotous conversation about Walmart's ethical practices, we participate in a drinking contest and a bake-off while I await my court date.

"Dreams permit each and every one of us to be quietly and safely insane every night of our lives."
William Dement.

Oh, bother.

"I define nothing. Not beauty, not patriotism.
I take each thing as it is, without prior rules about what it should be. "
Bob Dylan

New mantra, anyone?

( What Age Do You Act? )</div>