2 Cups Odin Dragon

I've started bipolar meds and an anti-anxiety. I might also need an antidepressant on top of it, but I'm not sure. I know they're supposed to help, but I feel sad that I need chemical altering in order to function in this world.

I guess in a way that's to the good. The society that is dying everywhere around us (implode, implode, implode away accelerando!) makes it difficult to survive without some form of medication. The pharmas have it the way they want it, and yes, I've resisted it all this time. But we do live in pharma world, don't we? When in Rome...

I do long for the days when I won't long for death. Right now, I feel rather numb. And tired. I really want to go to sleep right now but I have my therapist appt. tonight.

I tell people frankly that I pray collapse of the decrepit, the necrotic, the no-longer useful. I'm hoping that perhaps if I put it more that way, rather than "collapse of civilization" they won't be as offended. But the two are the same to me. To bring light to the vampires and watch them fizz into a fine wispy smoke--that is a brilliant dream as well! And also to find the cooling and healing aspects of darkness that would ground some of the more heroic and egotistical workers in the light.

("What, lightworkers egotistical? You don't say, tsk-tsk-tsk!" T-hee, and all that cheery rot!)

Vive le weekend!

6 Swords Drychtyn Salamander - Here I am again

Perhaps there's another massive round o' death on the horizon.

Think it was on Karen Bishop or the Reconnections' sites that mentioned that people were feeling way down before the events hit Myanmar and China over the past couple of months. But I've been feeling really awful the past couple of weeks. There's more than a bit of self-destructiveness going on in my life at the moment.

Death. Yeah.

Hermes Iguana - Recognition Fixation

Yesterday evening, I was walking home from work and I was on the phone with my partner. One of the interesting developments in my life recently is that I have begun to undertake work on a novel that is being fostered by the avatar/deity Taliesin. It's a strange tome that is coming through me, and there's a big part of me that feels like "I'm wasting my time." But that is a part of me that mewlingly desires some recognition and, yes, the drug of fame.

Well. Part of my issue is that I'm having a hard time lately being clear with stuff. I feel murky, and the murkiness gets me into trouble, but I know I've talked about Taliesin helping me with this book, and my partner forgot about it. And I told him that I was annoyed that he forgot it and that "I'm going to have to somehow train your memory." As I walked home and then when I started making my dinner, I realized I was really rather incensed by the whole thing, and that it really touches an old, old thing. I found myself musing about praying to have a starseed walk-in come into my body so finish out the term of lease on this body. Because I didn't want this pain anymore.

So, I se there's a lot of power there, a big old complex in my fetch that I need to transform. I did a Thoth deck tarot reading on it using a spread Gerd Ziegler designed that basically reminded me that there are many good things in my life today as represented by the 2 of Swords and the Sun, but this ancient failure (7 of disks as the "what's really going on" card" has congealed in my spirit (the Hanged Man) and needs to be burned away in the fires of transformation. Once I do this, I'll become the Knight of Wands (rather than Prince of Wands--this is a Thoth deck where Knights=Kings, Queens=Queens, Princes=Knights and Princess=Pages). And the failure itself may be transformed into the Princess of Wands, a fearless energy that speaks truth, come what may.

I'm studying Hawaiian mysticism right now for my Feri training. In order to become the healer I know I can be, I need to heal this aspect of myself. I was spoken to cruelly and with cavalier and reckless abandon. That I have taken it and run with it with my own fetch's simple notions. As a college sophomore, I really had no understanding of my sensitivity and impressionable nature regarding "authorities". I put it in quotes because the authority in question really relies on my giving it weight, and because I was unaware that I was in that place of looking for approval and recognition ab supra, I didn't understand just how vulnerable and delicate I was. So now I really need to double up my efforts to love my fetch and to soothe its hurt, to heal its pain. I can't change the fact that an authority at Dartmouth in the Sanborn House basement hurt me in the fall of 1983. As with my coming-out fiasco, I'm sure that I will one day be grateful for the pain she caused me, but right now I still feel a sting and a desire to lash out.

The best thing I've done is put C*ntypoo as a character in a play of mine. If she wants to say that's who she is, that's fine, but she'll have to admit she's a homophobe, a misogynist and a racist as well. Does she really want that? Maybe she should just live with the fact that "I saw, I know, she disgusts me." Irony of ironies--take that, Blanche. Unlike Alan, I'm not going to kill myself.

Still I've got my work cut out for me. Yich!

Hanuman "Max" = Hamlet is a Comedy

I've been in a down mood or up-and-down mood rather. There are some days I look forward to stuff, and then days like this when I wish I could have just stayed in my dreams for the whole 24 hour period. (And last night I had a sex ritual dream! So there you go!)

But I've been musing on a notion that will probably raise the hackles of Shakespearean puristcunts--and of course that's a positive thing, isn't it always? But I recently had the opportunity to read an essay by Curtis White that suggested that "Hamlet" was a realy subversive play, masquerading as courtly entertainment. And I've got to admit I saw White's point. The tragedy of the play isn't really onstage--it's in the audience.

It struck me though, that if a director really wanted to be subversive, he'd augment all the stuff that was about Hamlet actually WANTING to die, and "go for the laugh-jugular." Now, it might be an experiment that failed, but I think it could fail BIG and in such a way as to make all sorts of people feel really uncomfortable in the process.

See, White's point is that "Hamlet" is about an ordinary fellow who doesn't have what it takes to be a gangsta, in the Claudius-Gertrude-Hamlet Sr.-Fortinbras mode of Gangsta.

Don't like "Gangsta"? Well, I think Tony Soprano is another Claudius stand-in. But it doesn't have to be the C*nt-character James Gandolfini played. There are a lot of people who can stand in for Count Vlad-Claudius C*ntworth. And Hapless Hamlet and Ophelia, Laertes and Polonius are just fodder for all that empirical evil that exists in the rottendom of Denmark. In fact, "Kingdom" and "Rotten" are basically the same thing. Something is King in the Rottendom of Denmark. And it is the structure of the whole c*nterprise itself.

So if Hamlet decided "To Sleep perchance to dream," and instead of going towards doubts about the death-dreams, he just glibly glides past it all, and embraces death-death-death, it could be quite discomfiting in more ways than one.

These thoughts are with me because I feel that the c*nt-spirits that want me to kill myself are getting desperate. The days of this c*nterprise called "American Empire" are clearly numbered, and it's difficult to see what the path forward is exactly. I did a tarot reading on 4-4-08 to discover that pathway, and the end result is the Queen of Cups--an emotional mastery of the situation. ("I'll cry tomorrow" anyone?) The theme interestingly is the Knight of Wands, and my lens into the situation is the 3 of Cups. The environment is the 7 of Pentacles which means that people are hard at work through the whole thing. As the fiasco unfolds, the hoi polloi will be "woikin' hard, woikin' woikin' woikin'" as I recently read somewhere. And I'll probably be amongst them, but working with my Fetch and my Godself to find the way through.

I wonder if this helps anyone.

Hanuman Undine - The Ugh Zone!

For any people who have not given up on me and this blog, I offer my deepest apologies. As well as to those who have given up on me, and the notion that I just got sick of it and left this off.

Right now I'm experiencing a supremely blech!moment. The spring equinox (or "Sprinquinox!" as I like to call it) tends to bring out a crazy energy in me. Last year, I dealt with this energy coupled with a deep post-show depression after having acted in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest; boy was that painful. That was when a person I know with a social work b.g. told me that in the Northeast, March and April are the times of year when people are most likely to kill themselves, suffer job-losses, divorces, and other sorts of traumas. So basically I see that I'm here AGAIN, another year older, but at least I'm not going through a post-show depression. (There is that at least!)

In thinking about my own personal wheel of the year, this is the 12th house time in my chart. Around Beltane, interestingly, is when the Sun hits my Ascendant. I do notice a sort of push inside me at that time, and that excites me. It also comes right after my next Feri training session with a teacher in Massachusetts.

I started a new job about a month ago, as well. My old boss finally hired me away from the previous job--offering me quite an increase in salary. Transitions always take a little bit of time, and I'm not quite out of the woods with finances yet. But next month looks to be pretty promising, should the economy not hit the skids. That being said, I do pray for the economy to crash and for the financial system of extraction/dehumanization/civilization/addiction/vampiricuntishness to fail and fail grandly! (Morte a la civ, vive a la civ!)

I have not been praying that as much as I've been praying to embody the flower above my head and to know the work and joy of this god that I am, to know/love myself in all my parts.

Blessings to you all. We'll see if I somehow maintain this more in the coming months.

Strength Hekate Undine

A few weeks ago, I realized that the Wolf is not a guide of one of the directions or a chakra guide, but is sort of the guide of my corporeal being. So when the wolf sort of subsumed into my being as "Frostwolf"--duh!

Anyway, I had an odd random thought. I have a difficulty with things military, so I find it kind of funny about the whole Iraq thing in a way. I kind of want to say "You know, I don't support the Iraq war for my own reasons, but I really loathe military ign'anz, so I'm all for keep the troops over there. Let them all shoot each other up! Let them be sitting ducks and Iraqi target practice. Let the Darwin awards come and gather them up! Huzzah!"

/snark

Princess Wands Star Goddess Gnome - Las Vegas & America

A few years ago, I wrote a poem (I need to dig it up--it's somewhere) called "Las Vegas Nativity." An amazing art-work called "Hide & Seek" by Pavel Tchelitchev sparked this poem, but it also inspired the likes of T.S. Eliot and Allen Ginsberg as well. That's really more about the painting than about my poetry, but I remember the theme of the piece was really about Las Vegas and how it's come to be the emblem of America.

One of my instructors took issue with that, but then again, he was a rather idealistic sort. Now, I'm not saying I'm "realistic" by any means, and at the time I was trying on an ill-fitting armor of cynicism that wasn't doing much of a good job at anything, least of all protecting me from "the cold cruel world." But over the years, I've noticed that Las Vegas has increasingly become the one city that I would identify as the quintessential "American" city of the last 25 years.

Las Vegas and Tony Soprano in fact, are the apotheoses in city and fictional character form, not only of America, but of the "gangstarrangements" of Empire culture. Oh, to be sure, Tony Soprano is held off to be garish, crude and obnoxious--oh, it's so fascinating to look at that darkness! (As if it was over there somewhere, in yeah sure, Joizey!) But the joke's on most of the rest of us chumps, because J.P. Wall-Street Tenore is exactly the same sort of thug as T.S., and every city deprived of a sense of self today I think would love to be as delectably tawdry and glitzy, not to mention outwardly lucrative as Lost Wages is.

What this has been making me aware of however, is that this all sounds really cynical. And yet, I don't see it that way. Acceptance of reality, even a dreadfully noxious reality such as ours is, is a prerequisite to finding any sort of mental health through this process. This IS the way it is right now. It's like we're all living in that Rumi story about the man who wakes up, but he's the only one, so eventually/inevitably he succumbs to being asleep again. It's hard to stay awake while the diseases both in and outside of us are doing pushups trying to muscle their way back in, or more likely to osmose back in because inertia gets the better part of valor.

I had a conversation with a fellow, a perfectly lovely guy. But he's in that place of "you know what the problem is? It's the government"--and off he goes. He is also a fellow who reflexively takes Israel's side in stuff. Honestly, I don't think he gives it much thought, and in spite of the fact that I like the guy, I sense that having a real conversation about Israel's actions in the world would call forth all sorts of psychological drums that would drown out any sense of reality. But I said to him that accepting things the way they are is the first step to really taking the higher road, even if it is to rebel, which I'm not so sure is the way. (I'm leaning more toward just letting inertia get the better part of me, and just finding a way to stop cold however best I can--give no energy to empire one way or another.)

Of course then he went off on another fascinating tear about how the founding fathers were smugglers and that the Boston Tea Party was a smugglers' action basically. Fascinating, but he missed my point. Ah well.

Acceptance. The answer to all my problems. Turn it over to the Star Goddess source of all there is. Transmute it in the crystal green shimmering heart of that plasma pleroma stuff of which we are all made. Blessings!