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
Friday, September 28, 2007
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
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!
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!
Thursday, September 06, 2007
Emergence Persephone Deer - Bluggahz
Sometimes I'm out of synch with other people, or I'm in-synch with something else I don't quite understand. I seem to be both up-and-down simultaneously. Perhaps it has something to do with the upcoming Equinox, but it could also be Saturn in Virgo approaching an opposition to my natal Mars. I don't know.
I felt slightly upbraided posting about it on Astroworld.us. I asked if other people who logged into this "and other blogs" were going through something similar. I should have said something slightly different, like other spiritual blogs or something, I guess, but--well, consider me upbraided.
I also need to toot my own horn, though. I posted a letter that I sent to the Albany Times-Union to Vermont Commons. I'm curious to see if anyone will respond to it. I have to login to register and see I guess. Perhaps I will do that.
I felt slightly upbraided posting about it on Astroworld.us. I asked if other people who logged into this "and other blogs" were going through something similar. I should have said something slightly different, like other spiritual blogs or something, I guess, but--well, consider me upbraided.
I also need to toot my own horn, though. I posted a letter that I sent to the Albany Times-Union to Vermont Commons. I'm curious to see if anyone will respond to it. I have to login to register and see I guess. Perhaps I will do that.
Thursday, August 23, 2007
Priestess Drychtyn (Star Goddess) Beaver - Pattern
I have noticed that when I ask questions about what I sense as "TSHTF" and "TEOTWAWKI" (The Shit Hitting the Fan & The End of the World As We Know It, respectively), that I keep being told just look and perceive what is around you. "You will see the answer."
I don't do my gratitude lists often enough, but more often than not in the past few weeks, I've been feeling happier than un, serene r/t agitated, excited about life r/t moping around keening for death.
Oh, I still am constantly thinking about death--I think my sensitivities are too fine for me not to be attuned to all the death around us all. If I was in the sugar and flour, I wouldn't be feeling all of that so much. I also sense that when I read "news stories" about these stupid actions people take out of a compulsion to hate and stoke fear and rage, that I'm saying a lot to computer screens and in my imagination "Let me repeat back to you what I hear you saying. You're saying 'SPRAWK SPRAWK SPRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWKKKK!!' Does that pretty much sum up your views on [fill-in-the-blank]? Believe it or not, I'm not trying to make fun of you, but there are just certain concepts like hate and such that aren't a part of my lexicon, and I hear this kind of Bill-the-cat thing that you're doing energetically."
I am almost done with Curtis White's The Spirit of Disobedience and I see that I do sort of need to "misbehave", at least in the sense of becoming a one-man Boston Tea party. And to create beauty.
I love his take on Brokeback Mountain, and I need to write him a mash-note about both this book and Middle Mind, tell him also about my favoritest film of all time, Big Eden, which was just on Logo last night!
I think I have a lot more on which to blog, but what I started to write about was the stuff going on all around us. My guides and the oracles I cast all seem to point to my staying put and emanating whatever it is I need to emanate in these times o' opportunity and crisis. Somehow my destiny is tied in with those of the people in this Upper Hudson Valley. I feel an invigorating connection to the land, whether here or in Troy or almost anywhere else around here. (Latham, Colonie and parts of Albany do seem to be under a soulless pall right now, at least around the big-box stores, strip malls and larger malls. My addict-self is drawn to them and I cry, Oh, How I cry...)
As much as others are screaming "Sal si puedes", I somehow need to trust that I am right where I need to be, and that the Goddesses and the Gods, God Herself will provide...
Scary as that is.
I don't do my gratitude lists often enough, but more often than not in the past few weeks, I've been feeling happier than un, serene r/t agitated, excited about life r/t moping around keening for death.
Oh, I still am constantly thinking about death--I think my sensitivities are too fine for me not to be attuned to all the death around us all. If I was in the sugar and flour, I wouldn't be feeling all of that so much. I also sense that when I read "news stories" about these stupid actions people take out of a compulsion to hate and stoke fear and rage, that I'm saying a lot to computer screens and in my imagination "Let me repeat back to you what I hear you saying. You're saying 'SPRAWK SPRAWK SPRAAAAAAAAWWWWWWWWWWKKKK!!' Does that pretty much sum up your views on [fill-in-the-blank]? Believe it or not, I'm not trying to make fun of you, but there are just certain concepts like hate and such that aren't a part of my lexicon, and I hear this kind of Bill-the-cat thing that you're doing energetically."
I am almost done with Curtis White's The Spirit of Disobedience and I see that I do sort of need to "misbehave", at least in the sense of becoming a one-man Boston Tea party. And to create beauty.
I love his take on Brokeback Mountain, and I need to write him a mash-note about both this book and Middle Mind, tell him also about my favoritest film of all time, Big Eden, which was just on Logo last night!
I think I have a lot more on which to blog, but what I started to write about was the stuff going on all around us. My guides and the oracles I cast all seem to point to my staying put and emanating whatever it is I need to emanate in these times o' opportunity and crisis. Somehow my destiny is tied in with those of the people in this Upper Hudson Valley. I feel an invigorating connection to the land, whether here or in Troy or almost anywhere else around here. (Latham, Colonie and parts of Albany do seem to be under a soulless pall right now, at least around the big-box stores, strip malls and larger malls. My addict-self is drawn to them and I cry, Oh, How I cry...)
As much as others are screaming "Sal si puedes", I somehow need to trust that I am right where I need to be, and that the Goddesses and the Gods, God Herself will provide...
Scary as that is.
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
7 Wands Freyja Iguana
It could be just that we're having an early taste of autumn--the weather is way too cool for this time of year. While I normally LOVE this weather, I find that I want the summer to continue until maybe the last few days before Mabon. And of course to continue past it with some Indian Summer weather as well. These things being said, I do love the clouds and the way the light works right now. It's a mite premature is all.
I feel an electric sense of possibility in the air. I'm not exactly sure what the source of it is. In addition to the weather, it could also be that I see a momentous amount of opportunity in the strange economic/environmental times we inhabit. As the wheels come off the elite-driven cart, the sense of dislocation and upset will indeed be great, and the very vocal people out there might end up being summarily dealt with. Or not. Quien sabe?
The source could also be the book I'm reading now--Roy Eugene Davis's The Spiritual Basis of Real Prosperity. This book is written in such a clear and concise way that I feel that it is restructuring my brain. That is definitely to the good, as I desperately need it. I've been out there seeking a counselor to work through some of my financial demons with, and it's definitely a good thing.
HRH Queen of Drama named her student loan "Victor" because the villain in soap operas frequently has that name. I haven't gone to the effort to name mine yet, though I think it is a good idea. I am thinking though I might name it "Leona Maybelle Shirley-June" or something elite-coquette sounding. I want to name it in a way to leech power from it. I was thinking also of Hagridizing it and and naming it "Fluffy" or "Toodles."
Saturn is about to move into Virgo, and the taskmaster has actually been kicking up a storm in my chart at the tail end of Leo. I have the planet natally in the opposing sign of Aquarius, around 27 degrees. Saturn is at 29 Leo right now so it's hitting not just Saturn, but also the midpoints of Saturn-Sun and Saturn-Mars, all of which are nearby. As Saturn enters Virgo, my Mars, Juno, Pallas and Sun will get it, followed by Uranus and Pluto and Chiron. And then it will also activate my Yod with Venus. I'm going to have a very interesting couple of years here.
There is a huge expanse of "stuff", and I sense they are mostly "goodies." Who knows where it will lead me, but I have this delicious sense of something. And it's just a feeling in my heart, a fire kindled and stoked by Lugh, Athena and Freyja whose day it is today in my personal pantheon. Lugh and Athena are the visiting West-Water God and East-Air Goddess for this quarter of the year from Lughnaghsadh to Samhain. They're here for certain workings and they're having quite an effect.
All in all, life is good while everything around us all seems to head toward ye olde crapper. Morte a la civilization, vive la Civilization!
I feel an electric sense of possibility in the air. I'm not exactly sure what the source of it is. In addition to the weather, it could also be that I see a momentous amount of opportunity in the strange economic/environmental times we inhabit. As the wheels come off the elite-driven cart, the sense of dislocation and upset will indeed be great, and the very vocal people out there might end up being summarily dealt with. Or not. Quien sabe?
The source could also be the book I'm reading now--Roy Eugene Davis's The Spiritual Basis of Real Prosperity. This book is written in such a clear and concise way that I feel that it is restructuring my brain. That is definitely to the good, as I desperately need it. I've been out there seeking a counselor to work through some of my financial demons with, and it's definitely a good thing.
HRH Queen of Drama named her student loan "Victor" because the villain in soap operas frequently has that name. I haven't gone to the effort to name mine yet, though I think it is a good idea. I am thinking though I might name it "Leona Maybelle Shirley-June" or something elite-coquette sounding. I want to name it in a way to leech power from it. I was thinking also of Hagridizing it and and naming it "Fluffy" or "Toodles."
Saturn is about to move into Virgo, and the taskmaster has actually been kicking up a storm in my chart at the tail end of Leo. I have the planet natally in the opposing sign of Aquarius, around 27 degrees. Saturn is at 29 Leo right now so it's hitting not just Saturn, but also the midpoints of Saturn-Sun and Saturn-Mars, all of which are nearby. As Saturn enters Virgo, my Mars, Juno, Pallas and Sun will get it, followed by Uranus and Pluto and Chiron. And then it will also activate my Yod with Venus. I'm going to have a very interesting couple of years here.
There is a huge expanse of "stuff", and I sense they are mostly "goodies." Who knows where it will lead me, but I have this delicious sense of something. And it's just a feeling in my heart, a fire kindled and stoked by Lugh, Athena and Freyja whose day it is today in my personal pantheon. Lugh and Athena are the visiting West-Water God and East-Air Goddess for this quarter of the year from Lughnaghsadh to Samhain. They're here for certain workings and they're having quite an effect.
All in all, life is good while everything around us all seems to head toward ye olde crapper. Morte a la civilization, vive la Civilization!
Labels:
Abundance,
nature,
possibility,
Saturn in Virgo,
weather
Tuesday, July 31, 2007
Moon Hermes Wolf - Mishmash
My thoughts are a bit jumbled, and part of that is due to the GORGEOUS weather we're having in upstate New York. Ah. Mah. Gahd. Ess.
Part of it though is also because I have not really been shielding myself well of late. I'm sort of like Harry Potter who sort of thrills at being able to get into Lord Voldemort's mind through his weird connection to the Militantly Ignorant wizard. I guess in part, I sort of get that through the different waves of energy out there, I am connected to all sorts of variants of "You-Know-Who" and of late I've been really susceptible for some reason to feeling bad about my munzel situation, especially as regards my student fucking loan from ye olde Cuntigroup.
So. I'm now seeking outside help. My partner suggests that I should be "open to medication." So, I'm going to try, kicking and screaming though I am right now. I have gotten into dark, deep places because of the finances, but I think in part the issue has gotten magnified out of proportion because of that susceptibility to other people's depressed thoughts.
I recently logged into "Village Blog" where the folks there were talking about reading The Different Drum by M.Scott Peck. I read The People of the Lie a few years ago and I found parts of it to be really amazing. For some people the notion of exorcising evil as a medical practice seemed beyond the pale, but since I've had some experiences with shall we call them "disky spirits", I feel that receiving different sorts of intervention might not be a bad thing.
When I read People of the Lie, I appreciated Peck's observations about what constitutes evil and it has helped me understand my own shadow a bit more. I am glad that I can read Christian writers such as Peck or Jim Marion with equanimity, and without feeling they're out to convert or "heal me of my wounds." In fact in The Different Drum, that very theme is explored at length because that approach stands in the way of making, building and maintaining community. Peck's observations about this amazing process are quite helpful, as it turns out, and I'm curious how I might utilize some of these in the process of being a producer for a play for example, or the board member of a theater.
I have gotten to a place with my spiritual understanding of things that is curious in our culture--I am simultaneously fairly far along to see that I'm farther along than probably 95% of my fellow Americans, about equal with maybe 3-1/2%, a step behind 3/4 of 1 percent, 2 steps behind another 3/8%, and WAY behind only a handful of people which I see as increasing in number over time, and to which I aspire to one day be. And the best part of this is I don't see it as a hierarchical thing. Somehow I appreciate and embrace that I am right where I'm supposed to be, and find gratitude for being here, where "we're all fucked, but life is good" as Derrick Jensen says. The other 5% of people I see myself as being a part of here understand that "we are all one." Peck also addresses that as well, and comments that it is still just the beginning, which I also understand and sometimes breathe heavy sighs over.
Anyway, the thing I'm understanding is that I'm acting as an unwitting prophet-come-lately. The finance stuff is exactly what a lot of people are feeling, and we're all feeling the burdens accompanying the rise in prices of everything around us that we need to survive. I myself wonder if I will even survive the conflagrations that are about to descend upon us all. Of course, none of us is guaranteed survival, "my guides notwithstanding." I try to keep a wider perspective going, and to remember that my survival really does depend on being able to deeply care for others and to receive that in turn.
I see that some others, such as the Cryptogon fellow, are out there peddling their fear-based stuff. It helps, I suppose, but there's no balance there. I can heap my scorn on the fluffy-bunnies out there as well, but come on guys! If it's all going to be like that, maybe I'd want to end up eddzelly-dedzel dead already!
We have to remember to create the lives we desire along the way. One of the tools I use when listening to someone try to sell me on something is to take in the whole person and ask "does she have something I want?" "Is there a characteristic or trait this man has which I would like to cultivate, and is it something I perceive from what it is they're trying to sell me?" Most of the time, sadly, I look and find Gertrude Stein's Oakland--"no there there." Most of the time, it's zombie-selling, and I'm not on board the necro-train.
Even with someone like the aforementioned Mr. Jensen or J.H. Kunstler, I wonder if they have something I want. I understand the passion behind their words, certainly. But in creating the lifeboats for post-Empire modes of living, I need to remember to partner with my personal pantheon and my personal chakra totem-poles to create that life beyond my wildest dreams.
Last week, during all this stuff, I was lucky enough to take a pause at work, and have the owl and the eagle fly into my consciousness. I've gone through all the "what is the significance of this?" and "ooooh! I must be special" mishagoss. These things are always happening, but most people just aren't aware of them. They seem to be pointing me toward something eminently practical, and dare I say really prosaic. They seem to be drawing me into a room in a K-8 sort of school that is a combination of an art class and metals shop. I'm not sure what it is I'm being called to do here, but there is significance here, and I'm getting some specific pictures in my head about the place. The Owl is perching on a vise for example, and I sense there's a built-in forge nearby to where I see myself standing.
So. Quite a bit going on for old Cinnumeg this Lammastide. Sheesh.
Part of it though is also because I have not really been shielding myself well of late. I'm sort of like Harry Potter who sort of thrills at being able to get into Lord Voldemort's mind through his weird connection to the Militantly Ignorant wizard. I guess in part, I sort of get that through the different waves of energy out there, I am connected to all sorts of variants of "You-Know-Who" and of late I've been really susceptible for some reason to feeling bad about my munzel situation, especially as regards my student fucking loan from ye olde Cuntigroup.
So. I'm now seeking outside help. My partner suggests that I should be "open to medication." So, I'm going to try, kicking and screaming though I am right now. I have gotten into dark, deep places because of the finances, but I think in part the issue has gotten magnified out of proportion because of that susceptibility to other people's depressed thoughts.
I recently logged into "Village Blog" where the folks there were talking about reading The Different Drum by M.Scott Peck. I read The People of the Lie a few years ago and I found parts of it to be really amazing. For some people the notion of exorcising evil as a medical practice seemed beyond the pale, but since I've had some experiences with shall we call them "disky spirits", I feel that receiving different sorts of intervention might not be a bad thing.
When I read People of the Lie, I appreciated Peck's observations about what constitutes evil and it has helped me understand my own shadow a bit more. I am glad that I can read Christian writers such as Peck or Jim Marion with equanimity, and without feeling they're out to convert or "heal me of my wounds." In fact in The Different Drum, that very theme is explored at length because that approach stands in the way of making, building and maintaining community. Peck's observations about this amazing process are quite helpful, as it turns out, and I'm curious how I might utilize some of these in the process of being a producer for a play for example, or the board member of a theater.
I have gotten to a place with my spiritual understanding of things that is curious in our culture--I am simultaneously fairly far along to see that I'm farther along than probably 95% of my fellow Americans, about equal with maybe 3-1/2%, a step behind 3/4 of 1 percent, 2 steps behind another 3/8%, and WAY behind only a handful of people which I see as increasing in number over time, and to which I aspire to one day be. And the best part of this is I don't see it as a hierarchical thing. Somehow I appreciate and embrace that I am right where I'm supposed to be, and find gratitude for being here, where "we're all fucked, but life is good" as Derrick Jensen says. The other 5% of people I see myself as being a part of here understand that "we are all one." Peck also addresses that as well, and comments that it is still just the beginning, which I also understand and sometimes breathe heavy sighs over.
Anyway, the thing I'm understanding is that I'm acting as an unwitting prophet-come-lately. The finance stuff is exactly what a lot of people are feeling, and we're all feeling the burdens accompanying the rise in prices of everything around us that we need to survive. I myself wonder if I will even survive the conflagrations that are about to descend upon us all. Of course, none of us is guaranteed survival, "my guides notwithstanding." I try to keep a wider perspective going, and to remember that my survival really does depend on being able to deeply care for others and to receive that in turn.
I see that some others, such as the Cryptogon fellow, are out there peddling their fear-based stuff. It helps, I suppose, but there's no balance there. I can heap my scorn on the fluffy-bunnies out there as well, but come on guys! If it's all going to be like that, maybe I'd want to end up eddzelly-dedzel dead already!
We have to remember to create the lives we desire along the way. One of the tools I use when listening to someone try to sell me on something is to take in the whole person and ask "does she have something I want?" "Is there a characteristic or trait this man has which I would like to cultivate, and is it something I perceive from what it is they're trying to sell me?" Most of the time, sadly, I look and find Gertrude Stein's Oakland--"no there there." Most of the time, it's zombie-selling, and I'm not on board the necro-train.
Even with someone like the aforementioned Mr. Jensen or J.H. Kunstler, I wonder if they have something I want. I understand the passion behind their words, certainly. But in creating the lifeboats for post-Empire modes of living, I need to remember to partner with my personal pantheon and my personal chakra totem-poles to create that life beyond my wildest dreams.
Last week, during all this stuff, I was lucky enough to take a pause at work, and have the owl and the eagle fly into my consciousness. I've gone through all the "what is the significance of this?" and "ooooh! I must be special" mishagoss. These things are always happening, but most people just aren't aware of them. They seem to be pointing me toward something eminently practical, and dare I say really prosaic. They seem to be drawing me into a room in a K-8 sort of school that is a combination of an art class and metals shop. I'm not sure what it is I'm being called to do here, but there is significance here, and I'm getting some specific pictures in my head about the place. The Owl is perching on a vise for example, and I sense there's a built-in forge nearby to where I see myself standing.
So. Quite a bit going on for old Cinnumeg this Lammastide. Sheesh.
Labels:
blah feelings,
co,
finances,
shamanism,
spirituality
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Lovers Dian-y-Glas Goat
Hm. My card of the day (heterosexual lovers, as opposed to gay or lesbian), together with the God and the animal guide, all point to a heightened awareness of sexuality and beauty. This morning, I decided to do a Medicine Card reading on the fly. I used a "Moon Lodge" Spread: East was Porcupine reversed, South was Hummingbird, West was Spider, North Coyote and Center was Racoon.
I'm taking myself too seriously, basically. That's the message of how I'm tripping myself up, and what I need to keep in mind is the path of beauty.
It's not an easy road for me to keep to, however. What is beautiful to me is in flux at the moment. It used to be a beautiful thing for me to express myself in dramatic forms. I struggle to make the attempt to do this today. My attention to beauty seems to drift elsewhere right now, so I'm "in the hallway."
My partner and I took a trip across this gorgeous state to Buffalo and back. We witnessed much beauty along the way, and also spied some less than beautiful areas and moments. I want to share so much beauty with people, and I know I have it in me, but it's so confusing. It will out in its own way, of that I'm confident.
In the meantime, let me seek to find it within my heart to become generous.
I'm taking myself too seriously, basically. That's the message of how I'm tripping myself up, and what I need to keep in mind is the path of beauty.
It's not an easy road for me to keep to, however. What is beautiful to me is in flux at the moment. It used to be a beautiful thing for me to express myself in dramatic forms. I struggle to make the attempt to do this today. My attention to beauty seems to drift elsewhere right now, so I'm "in the hallway."
My partner and I took a trip across this gorgeous state to Buffalo and back. We witnessed much beauty along the way, and also spied some less than beautiful areas and moments. I want to share so much beauty with people, and I know I have it in me, but it's so confusing. It will out in its own way, of that I'm confident.
In the meantime, let me seek to find it within my heart to become generous.
Thursday, May 24, 2007
10 Swords Star Goddess Goat
I did a tarot reading on an online website about my passions and seeking a balance in my life. The counseling I received was pretty amazing, but basically the thrust of it was "Do your job; focus on doing it well." Last night I was inspired to at least try to do my job as a writer, and I showed up to the page, but I didn't get anywhere.
I will say that using the "money shot" metaphor of narrative thrust is a useful tool for certain kinds of writing. It's just that it's addictive and over time the bang from that buck gets less and less, and I find I would rather find something that is more sustaining.
My thought right now is to turn to a Tamara sort of experiment, perhaps where there are a couple of characters who have that explosive money-shot dynamic. I'm thinking one of the characters may just have to be Hamlet Etapucci IV or some ridiculous name like that, the gangster-tragic-hero wit da Joizy akzen'. But there would be 6 to 8 other characters all of whom would be the protagonist of their own plays, and I could leave it to the individual audience members with their maps of addictions to decide who they wish to follow. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that most, given what the characters would be, would probably go after Hamlet Ettapucci IV or Starletta Enbittermentus, our fancy-ass celebrinazi.
See, I see I have all this violence inside me, all this rage, and I need to get it out of me and sculpt it into something that can be useful. This stuff is inside me, and it's been lodged there deep. I need out it to pull, and it takes some effort and a careful attentiveness to how I draw the toxins out.
Trees help.
I will say that using the "money shot" metaphor of narrative thrust is a useful tool for certain kinds of writing. It's just that it's addictive and over time the bang from that buck gets less and less, and I find I would rather find something that is more sustaining.
My thought right now is to turn to a Tamara sort of experiment, perhaps where there are a couple of characters who have that explosive money-shot dynamic. I'm thinking one of the characters may just have to be Hamlet Etapucci IV or some ridiculous name like that, the gangster-tragic-hero wit da Joizy akzen'. But there would be 6 to 8 other characters all of whom would be the protagonist of their own plays, and I could leave it to the individual audience members with their maps of addictions to decide who they wish to follow. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that most, given what the characters would be, would probably go after Hamlet Ettapucci IV or Starletta Enbittermentus, our fancy-ass celebrinazi.
See, I see I have all this violence inside me, all this rage, and I need to get it out of me and sculpt it into something that can be useful. This stuff is inside me, and it's been lodged there deep. I need out it to pull, and it takes some effort and a careful attentiveness to how I draw the toxins out.
Trees help.
Labels:
anger,
drama,
money shots,
powerlessness,
Tamara,
thuggishness,
writing
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
3 swords Hades Dragon - More thoughts on drama
This summary is not available. Please
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Labels:
civilization,
deities,
desire,
drama,
thuggishness,
tragedy
Tuesday, May 22, 2007
Balance Freyja Jaguar - Tragedy and Thuggishness
This is a thought that hit me yesterday while I was walking past Capital Repertory on North Pearl. The show that's there now, The Crucible by Arthur Miller, isn't one of my favorites I must say. The company did an admirable job of it, though I also recognize that the part of Abigail Williams isn't all that well written. And she's the one who everyone's afraid of. I guess it doesn't have to be well-written--it sort of underscores the vacuity of our civilized culture that it isn't, though I sincerely doubt that was Mr. Miller's intention. In fact, I was thinking about his essay about how "modern" man can have tragic figures. In an odd way I agree with him, but that's because I was thinking of the civilized notion of the "noble."
Basically, if Shakespeare was alive today, he'd have to be writing his tragedies and history plays about folks like Bush, Cheney, the Gottis, the Russian Mafia, the yakuza, etc. Really, today's ultimate "tragedian" is John Woo, of Hong Kong violent film fame. Because the whole civilized notion of "nobility" is really a palimpsesting of all the blood and gore that went into the creation of say, the Plantagenets and the Tudors, the French and Castilian monarchies, etc.
In fact, if we were to get to a more fundamental notion of the "noble" that bypassed civilization, then the ultimate "tragic hero"--that figure who's perfection itself with a tragic flaw--would have to be your average Indian or indigenous tribe member, the very like of which we all emerged from centuries ago. The generic Indian's tragic flaw would be guilelessness and a lack of street sense, and then getting swept up/aside in the maelstrom cancer of civilized progression. The more violent Indian/indigenous would have found his role in the civilized realm fairly quickly, although to be fair most were probably used as soldier fodder for wars waged at a grand scale. All of us are destined to be et up by the civilization maw over time, unless we somehow find our way out of the quicksand.
First thing we do though is stop digging, stop our flailing about and get calm. Perhaps we'd then be able to float over to the shore rather than be pulled under by the muddy sucking of the quicksand.
Basically, if Shakespeare was alive today, he'd have to be writing his tragedies and history plays about folks like Bush, Cheney, the Gottis, the Russian Mafia, the yakuza, etc. Really, today's ultimate "tragedian" is John Woo, of Hong Kong violent film fame. Because the whole civilized notion of "nobility" is really a palimpsesting of all the blood and gore that went into the creation of say, the Plantagenets and the Tudors, the French and Castilian monarchies, etc.
In fact, if we were to get to a more fundamental notion of the "noble" that bypassed civilization, then the ultimate "tragic hero"--that figure who's perfection itself with a tragic flaw--would have to be your average Indian or indigenous tribe member, the very like of which we all emerged from centuries ago. The generic Indian's tragic flaw would be guilelessness and a lack of street sense, and then getting swept up/aside in the maelstrom cancer of civilized progression. The more violent Indian/indigenous would have found his role in the civilized realm fairly quickly, although to be fair most were probably used as soldier fodder for wars waged at a grand scale. All of us are destined to be et up by the civilization maw over time, unless we somehow find our way out of the quicksand.
First thing we do though is stop digging, stop our flailing about and get calm. Perhaps we'd then be able to float over to the shore rather than be pulled under by the muddy sucking of the quicksand.
Labels:
civilization,
drama,
nobility,
thuggishness,
tragedy
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
7 Cups Hekate Bear
Some days I feel wildly out-of-sorts. I just drew Coventina from Doreen Virtue's "Goddess Card" deck, which counsels me to detox my mind and body. (I feel my body is fairly well detoxed but I do have some Splenda and nutrasweet coursing through my system. Perhaps it's time I dispensed with those, as well as the coffee.)
Anyway, I am noticing such mood-swings in the past two weeks. All last week I was down because there are certain "6th Step" promptings to make big changes in my life. One of my character defenses is passivity, which is really difficult to break because I'm so "well" rewarded for it. I don't rock the boat, I don't really talk about stuff. It's gotten so bad that I really don't know what I want right now. It's not necessarily the passivity that is driving me to the lack of self-knowledge. Right now I'm feeling that a lot of stuff is elusive and I keep turning compulsively to oracles and the like to help me chart a course through this painful muck.
Right now I really want to cry. This will pass I know, but I think that there might be some sort of purification that would take place if I did just let go and cry the buckets inside me. This happens to me every once in awhile, I notice. There's a pattern here.
The past three days I've been able to access joyfulness again. It's nice, really nice, but I feel like I've been eating soy--I don't feel grounded and on the planet. Yesterday I finished re-reading Freeing the Soul from Fear by Robert Sardello and I have been using some of his exercises. They really do help to locate oneself in a larger dimension than this mere corporal one, where fear tends to lodge and secure most of its power. In doing these exercises of the imagination (and they are much like physical exercises in that they take attention, time and work), I have been able to transform some of my fears. One oracle I performed for myself last night acted as a confirmation that this was indeed the right thing for me to be doing. And this is also a process of purification too, I realize.
Yesterday I also read Carolyn Baker's "The Spirituality of Collapse" on her website. I recognize that part of my path is to open myself to the collapse that is going on all around us, but with those miraculous eyes of the soul. When I let myself just be with the collapse stuff, I can sense the light of all creation vibrating all around us. Deep inside I know that what's going on is a rupture out of the darkness, a rift of light and beauty is pushing something into Gaian reality. I need to somehow be a part of that process, and I am readying myself. I don't really get it, but I feel like I want to say "uckitfay" to a lot of stuff. Perhaps at some point I'll get to. But I need to show up for what I need to and do it in the spirit of joyful obligation, if for no other reason than it keeps me "sane" (whatever the hell that means these days...).
Anyway, I am noticing such mood-swings in the past two weeks. All last week I was down because there are certain "6th Step" promptings to make big changes in my life. One of my character defenses is passivity, which is really difficult to break because I'm so "well" rewarded for it. I don't rock the boat, I don't really talk about stuff. It's gotten so bad that I really don't know what I want right now. It's not necessarily the passivity that is driving me to the lack of self-knowledge. Right now I'm feeling that a lot of stuff is elusive and I keep turning compulsively to oracles and the like to help me chart a course through this painful muck.
Right now I really want to cry. This will pass I know, but I think that there might be some sort of purification that would take place if I did just let go and cry the buckets inside me. This happens to me every once in awhile, I notice. There's a pattern here.
The past three days I've been able to access joyfulness again. It's nice, really nice, but I feel like I've been eating soy--I don't feel grounded and on the planet. Yesterday I finished re-reading Freeing the Soul from Fear by Robert Sardello and I have been using some of his exercises. They really do help to locate oneself in a larger dimension than this mere corporal one, where fear tends to lodge and secure most of its power. In doing these exercises of the imagination (and they are much like physical exercises in that they take attention, time and work), I have been able to transform some of my fears. One oracle I performed for myself last night acted as a confirmation that this was indeed the right thing for me to be doing. And this is also a process of purification too, I realize.
Yesterday I also read Carolyn Baker's "The Spirituality of Collapse" on her website. I recognize that part of my path is to open myself to the collapse that is going on all around us, but with those miraculous eyes of the soul. When I let myself just be with the collapse stuff, I can sense the light of all creation vibrating all around us. Deep inside I know that what's going on is a rupture out of the darkness, a rift of light and beauty is pushing something into Gaian reality. I need to somehow be a part of that process, and I am readying myself. I don't really get it, but I feel like I want to say "uckitfay" to a lot of stuff. Perhaps at some point I'll get to. But I need to show up for what I need to and do it in the spirit of joyful obligation, if for no other reason than it keeps me "sane" (whatever the hell that means these days...).
Friday, May 04, 2007
Prince Cups Brigid Goat - Poems of Murd$rous R*ge
So much depends upon
a field of bloated corpses
of finance mucky-mucks
composting under
the brilliant sun,
raising generations
of maggots!
*********
Therapists like to say
that homicide is better than
suicide. Die Sanmerde Weill
Grand Master C*nt of the Universe!
Die Cuntigroup--
Vampire extraordinaire!
Let us all stake the hearts
of c*nts everywhere!
*********
Beltane Dawn (after Lydia Davis)
Oh, the sun is shining and the tulips are growing. Quick, let us grab the suit-c*nts at the Student Loan Cuntoration and execute them gangland style in celebration of Cernunnos!
a field of bloated corpses
of finance mucky-mucks
composting under
the brilliant sun,
raising generations
of maggots!
*********
Therapists like to say
that homicide is better than
suicide. Die Sanmerde Weill
Grand Master C*nt of the Universe!
Die Cuntigroup--
Vampire extraordinaire!
Let us all stake the hearts
of c*nts everywhere!
*********
Beltane Dawn (after Lydia Davis)
Oh, the sun is shining and the tulips are growing. Quick, let us grab the suit-c*nts at the Student Loan Cuntoration and execute them gangland style in celebration of Cernunnos!
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
Knight Wands Hermes Salamander - Call to Community
A Beltane Call to Community!
I call to the 4 winds,
to the elements,
to all the elementals and the deities,
to all the ascended and not-so-ascended masters,
to all those who are awakening or have awakened to their divinities,
(especially if you are in the northeastern New York, western Mass,
Southern Vermont/New Hampshire areas):
I call to me those who would partake in a community
to earth these vibrant and unruly energies
that are roaming rampant on this planet.
I call to me those who have a Big Eden vision
that welcomes, affirms, and loves we strange human beings
into a place of healing and recovery
from the toxicity surrounding us.
I call to us those who face down fear
in all of its forms, and yet who refuse to judge
those of us who are still in its clutches.
We acknowledge what formidable creatures
Phobos and Deimos and Panic are
and we call to us the allies
who will help us work through and with these energies
with respect and love to transform them
back into the soulful materials from which they were twisted.
We breathe our love and desire back into the earth
and we link up with others who have similar notions.
We call forth from inside our deepest reservoirs,
the soulful imagination to begin the artistic lives
we know we all wish to lead as we grow our own food,
as we support each other's economies of practical love
as we put our attentions onto our glorious communities
including ourselves as an important partner in the web of life,
no greater and no lesser than spiders, dandelions and wolves.
I send out this call to the cosmos and to the blogosphere!
I radiate a golden and loving light to all who would receive it.
Blessed be. So Mote it Be!
I call to the 4 winds,
to the elements,
to all the elementals and the deities,
to all the ascended and not-so-ascended masters,
to all those who are awakening or have awakened to their divinities,
(especially if you are in the northeastern New York, western Mass,
Southern Vermont/New Hampshire areas):
I call to me those who would partake in a community
to earth these vibrant and unruly energies
that are roaming rampant on this planet.
I call to me those who have a Big Eden vision
that welcomes, affirms, and loves we strange human beings
into a place of healing and recovery
from the toxicity surrounding us.
I call to us those who face down fear
in all of its forms, and yet who refuse to judge
those of us who are still in its clutches.
We acknowledge what formidable creatures
Phobos and Deimos and Panic are
and we call to us the allies
who will help us work through and with these energies
with respect and love to transform them
back into the soulful materials from which they were twisted.
We breathe our love and desire back into the earth
and we link up with others who have similar notions.
We call forth from inside our deepest reservoirs,
the soulful imagination to begin the artistic lives
we know we all wish to lead as we grow our own food,
as we support each other's economies of practical love
as we put our attentions onto our glorious communities
including ourselves as an important partner in the web of life,
no greater and no lesser than spiders, dandelions and wolves.
I send out this call to the cosmos and to the blogosphere!
I radiate a golden and loving light to all who would receive it.
Blessed be. So Mote it Be!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
7 Disks Jesus (!) Angel
I'm re-reading Freeing the Soul from Fear by Robert Sardello and Your Money or Your Life by J. Dominguez and V. Robin right now. After having finished S.M. Stirling's Change Trilogy, I feel the need to understand how my fears and financial insecurities have been plaguing me of late.
I want to write more poetry on collapse and what-not, but the Otter told me I need to write "from my place of joy" to find more possibility and expansion. In an odd way, facing my fears and freeing myself therefrom and also taking some concrete actions about my debts and worries on the financial front will probably overflow into a place of joy for real.
Sardello's book is particularly helpful right now, because, unbeknownst to me but suspected of late, fear has made its presence felt. Like a lot of people, I too was hypnotized into believing I could put fear into a box and ship it off to Arcturus. No such luck. Sardello reminds me that fear is a potential within human experience. It is something that the soul can either transform into beauty and freedom or allow it to fragment, beat down and deprive me of a sense of liveliness and joy. It's been doing the latter, and like I said, I had no idea. Fear LOVES to work that way, because the entity of Phobos doesn't really like it when we transform it into something useful.
To be fair, I've not worked with Ares' son. (Is Phobos (Fear) older or younger than Deimos (Terror)? Just curious.) Perhaps Phobos does like to be included in different aspects of our lives, a la Hekate, the Star Goddess, Odin et al. To become conscious of my fears has been something I've resisted unsurprisingly. They've come to my attention in all their stark monstrosity just these past 3 weeks, since the show ended.
I hope I have the wisdom to try and post some of this journey. I have a feeling this might be of use to a lot of people. Fear is something we all have to deal with.
I want to write more poetry on collapse and what-not, but the Otter told me I need to write "from my place of joy" to find more possibility and expansion. In an odd way, facing my fears and freeing myself therefrom and also taking some concrete actions about my debts and worries on the financial front will probably overflow into a place of joy for real.
Sardello's book is particularly helpful right now, because, unbeknownst to me but suspected of late, fear has made its presence felt. Like a lot of people, I too was hypnotized into believing I could put fear into a box and ship it off to Arcturus. No such luck. Sardello reminds me that fear is a potential within human experience. It is something that the soul can either transform into beauty and freedom or allow it to fragment, beat down and deprive me of a sense of liveliness and joy. It's been doing the latter, and like I said, I had no idea. Fear LOVES to work that way, because the entity of Phobos doesn't really like it when we transform it into something useful.
To be fair, I've not worked with Ares' son. (Is Phobos (Fear) older or younger than Deimos (Terror)? Just curious.) Perhaps Phobos does like to be included in different aspects of our lives, a la Hekate, the Star Goddess, Odin et al. To become conscious of my fears has been something I've resisted unsurprisingly. They've come to my attention in all their stark monstrosity just these past 3 weeks, since the show ended.
I hope I have the wisdom to try and post some of this journey. I have a feeling this might be of use to a lot of people. Fear is something we all have to deal with.
Monday, April 09, 2007
10 Wands Dian-y-Glas Deer
Slight change of plans from the last post. Over the weekend, I came more face to face with an awareness that I need to start forgiving others. It's not for them, that I need to forgive, it's for myself. To set mysel free. So here's the first stab at a poem I may need to send to someone.
"I Forgive You _____________"
Barbs of truth's tendrils may be named "Dolores"
or more likley "Trista". But I have held them
fast lo these many years. The "Admin-truth"
is that you played goalkeeper. I've been most
ungrateful! I'll cop to it. You shut the doors
against a most inappropriate placement indeed.
I hate to admit how much I've enjoyed the while,
while I wallowed in bile-colored waters.
All this time, I've pretended you had O So Much
Kraft--Sie hatten ueber mich zersiegten!
Heil _______! and the Horst Wessell song played
underneath your tarantel-dancing feetles.
The actuality's much more ordinary. I gave
you poems to read. You read them. Said "No,
I won't accept you into my class." Clap-clap-clap.
End of story, functionary, fairly automatic.
Perhaps only minor flaking off the rhinus?
Even now, print reporting the facts, I want to die!
Cut to 23 years later. I'm still writing.
I've even returned to poetry and prose,
even after acquiring a Dramatic Writing Mo'-Fo'
Arts Degree from Now You Undertakemassivedebt
University in la Village-Oest and yes!
I now work a legal secretary gig (Hooray Death!)
to pay off the burdensome loans my fat
head on top of my fat ass decided would be
an oh-so-grand investment in my fyoochah!
And I have no one but myself to blame.
Yes, you're pretty much off the old roundpoint.
And today I see I carry this irritant.
A part of me would sort of like to hold
this delicious resentment to my breast.
But I can't justify it cluttering my heartspace.
So much heart-soreness after weight-loss
compels me to dispense with anything that would
interfere with my hardwon sugar-flour freedom.
The time has come that I need to forgive
you for causing me this pain that I took to strange
depths and morbid inside twistie-freeze ties.
Some necrotic tissue must needs be expelled
so that a healing may take place, wherever
the light of the sun might compel it to grow.
On some level, I comprehend you saved me
from some worse fate, had I actually been taken
into the paneled and sterile walls of your web.
Today I embrace the life I have made for myself
so much brighter and joy-prone than ever before.
And I release you from contracts heretofore unknown.
"I Forgive You _____________"
Barbs of truth's tendrils may be named "Dolores"
or more likley "Trista". But I have held them
fast lo these many years. The "Admin-truth"
is that you played goalkeeper. I've been most
ungrateful! I'll cop to it. You shut the doors
against a most inappropriate placement indeed.
I hate to admit how much I've enjoyed the while,
while I wallowed in bile-colored waters.
All this time, I've pretended you had O So Much
Kraft--Sie hatten ueber mich zersiegten!
Heil _______! and the Horst Wessell song played
underneath your tarantel-dancing feetles.
The actuality's much more ordinary. I gave
you poems to read. You read them. Said "No,
I won't accept you into my class." Clap-clap-clap.
End of story, functionary, fairly automatic.
Perhaps only minor flaking off the rhinus?
Even now, print reporting the facts, I want to die!
Cut to 23 years later. I'm still writing.
I've even returned to poetry and prose,
even after acquiring a Dramatic Writing Mo'-Fo'
Arts Degree from Now You Undertakemassivedebt
University in la Village-Oest and yes!
I now work a legal secretary gig (Hooray Death!)
to pay off the burdensome loans my fat
head on top of my fat ass decided would be
an oh-so-grand investment in my fyoochah!
And I have no one but myself to blame.
Yes, you're pretty much off the old roundpoint.
And today I see I carry this irritant.
A part of me would sort of like to hold
this delicious resentment to my breast.
But I can't justify it cluttering my heartspace.
So much heart-soreness after weight-loss
compels me to dispense with anything that would
interfere with my hardwon sugar-flour freedom.
The time has come that I need to forgive
you for causing me this pain that I took to strange
depths and morbid inside twistie-freeze ties.
Some necrotic tissue must needs be expelled
so that a healing may take place, wherever
the light of the sun might compel it to grow.
On some level, I comprehend you saved me
from some worse fate, had I actually been taken
into the paneled and sterile walls of your web.
Today I embrace the life I have made for myself
so much brighter and joy-prone than ever before.
And I release you from contracts heretofore unknown.
Thursday, April 05, 2007
Queen Disks Hermes Beaver - Collapse Poem #1
I think I might be trying to write a series of Collapse Poems, and I'll post them on my olde blogge.
"Collapse Poem #1"
The temptations toward silence catch me up.
I know about the Terrible Triangle--
Easy-access oil easing into history,
impending collapse of all kinds of stocks--
fishery, currency, speculative, whatcha got?--
and of course, global climate changes.
The PErfect Storm buffets the shores
of insular denial belonging to most of us.
I can't help but sense it all amassing,
but there's other craziness to appraise!
Will we be boneheaded thugs and attack
Persia's conttemporary legacy?
What vaporous demons hold our erstwhile
rulers' minds in thrall? Such nuttiness!
Reason would forswear silence? Or perhaps
that would be enabling and fear? Whatever.
America is done! Over! Kaputt!
The ideal of neo-Iroquoisans--
Franklin, Madison and Paine, et al.
whose forebears were as much Hiawatha
as John Locke--that imagined America
exists in many folks, from Vermont
secessionists to the relocalizers
focussed on the earth beneath our feet.
We are all on our own, but together.
Imperative need, to radiate warm smiles
to folks as yet strange to me. Neighborly
affections that lead to knowing, despite
the sadness I feel about my urban landscape,
not knowing how many will see the April 5
three, five, ten years hence. Just how
will ratcheting down expectation proceed?
Will it come through suicide or disease,
murder or starvation? Internecine wars?
Those who love me share their concerns
when I describe myself as optimist facing
today's tricorn concerns. I recognize
hope is a fool's prospect, to foreclose taking
lifegiving actions. O strange Trojans, Albanians,
Schenectatoids! At least I have your backs!
I'm not much, of myself. But let me say this:
No one of us singly, is more intelligent,
more resourceful, reasonable and humane
than all of us together applying to common
purposes. The nation, the state, the counties
as of yet have not yet hit their bottom.
But I do know the deep agony. I'm here--
let me help you through it, as you'll help me.
Twelve years next month I've marinated
in Twelve and Twelved church basements.
I've uncovered my addictions, some most
unreasoning like those Evil White Powders
Sugar and Flour, some oh-so-easy to dispense
such as Codependence. I've awakened now
to larger compulsions than these yet:
Empire seems to be Addicts-as-Rulers-Amok!
I admit I am powerless over Empire--
socialization, domestication, civilization--
and my life has been indeed crashing
itself into Unmanageability's cliffside.
I didn't cause it, I can't cure it,
I most certainly can't control these cancers.
And I seek to find most elegant surrender
to the higher powers that will restore me.
No, I can't, the God can, I shall let her.
God Herself at the center of the cosmos,
with all her emanations and radiances
Assist me that I may offer succor
and testament to local-divine ways.
The middleman meddlesomes of nation-states
and beglobed corporate sterility
they shall fold with your gentle, sweet breath!
I pray humanity's awakening
to the power within and next door. Your bones
and my blood, our skin, brains, gonads--
Sources of power, pride, passion and self
in addition to el sexo dulcissimo!
These will lead us back to the ground beneath
our sensitive feet. Let us all open to love's
difficulties and catch each other in our falls.
"Collapse Poem #1"
The temptations toward silence catch me up.
I know about the Terrible Triangle--
Easy-access oil easing into history,
impending collapse of all kinds of stocks--
fishery, currency, speculative, whatcha got?--
and of course, global climate changes.
The PErfect Storm buffets the shores
of insular denial belonging to most of us.
I can't help but sense it all amassing,
but there's other craziness to appraise!
Will we be boneheaded thugs and attack
Persia's conttemporary legacy?
What vaporous demons hold our erstwhile
rulers' minds in thrall? Such nuttiness!
Reason would forswear silence? Or perhaps
that would be enabling and fear? Whatever.
America is done! Over! Kaputt!
The ideal of neo-Iroquoisans--
Franklin, Madison and Paine, et al.
whose forebears were as much Hiawatha
as John Locke--that imagined America
exists in many folks, from Vermont
secessionists to the relocalizers
focussed on the earth beneath our feet.
We are all on our own, but together.
Imperative need, to radiate warm smiles
to folks as yet strange to me. Neighborly
affections that lead to knowing, despite
the sadness I feel about my urban landscape,
not knowing how many will see the April 5
three, five, ten years hence. Just how
will ratcheting down expectation proceed?
Will it come through suicide or disease,
murder or starvation? Internecine wars?
Those who love me share their concerns
when I describe myself as optimist facing
today's tricorn concerns. I recognize
hope is a fool's prospect, to foreclose taking
lifegiving actions. O strange Trojans, Albanians,
Schenectatoids! At least I have your backs!
I'm not much, of myself. But let me say this:
No one of us singly, is more intelligent,
more resourceful, reasonable and humane
than all of us together applying to common
purposes. The nation, the state, the counties
as of yet have not yet hit their bottom.
But I do know the deep agony. I'm here--
let me help you through it, as you'll help me.
Twelve years next month I've marinated
in Twelve and Twelved church basements.
I've uncovered my addictions, some most
unreasoning like those Evil White Powders
Sugar and Flour, some oh-so-easy to dispense
such as Codependence. I've awakened now
to larger compulsions than these yet:
Empire seems to be Addicts-as-Rulers-Amok!
I admit I am powerless over Empire--
socialization, domestication, civilization--
and my life has been indeed crashing
itself into Unmanageability's cliffside.
I didn't cause it, I can't cure it,
I most certainly can't control these cancers.
And I seek to find most elegant surrender
to the higher powers that will restore me.
No, I can't, the God can, I shall let her.
God Herself at the center of the cosmos,
with all her emanations and radiances
Assist me that I may offer succor
and testament to local-divine ways.
The middleman meddlesomes of nation-states
and beglobed corporate sterility
they shall fold with your gentle, sweet breath!
I pray humanity's awakening
to the power within and next door. Your bones
and my blood, our skin, brains, gonads--
Sources of power, pride, passion and self
in addition to el sexo dulcissimo!
These will lead us back to the ground beneath
our sensitive feet. Let us all open to love's
difficulties and catch each other in our falls.
Wednesday, April 04, 2007
6 Disks Odin Chimera
An interesting development is taking place in my personal assembly of guides. The Chimera which I have been including as representative of the mythic 2nd chakra point seems to be choosing to leave me. Our energies haven't really been all that compatible, and the creature is choosing to move on to work with someone else. I'm not sure what mythic creature will come in to take his place. That will be interesting to observe. Chimera was sort of there today, but I actually felt the Goat more this morning in my meditation. Part of that was my own confusion--I sometimes get my animals confused in my head. But part of it too is that the chimera's presence isn't very strong, and truthfully hasn't been for a while.
Another interesting development: I've been dreaming about people of other races. I dreamt two days ago that I was in a reverse "Six Degrees of Separation" (the film/play) situation. I was staying with an upper class black family somewhere in the city. I was doing normal, everyday things like eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, shower/shave, etc. and it seemed every little thing annoyed the bejeesus of the patriarch (interestingly his name was Charles White). I got fed up with him and started to refer to him as "Mr. White". For some reason my getting all formal with him got his attention. I told him I don't make assumptions about whether I can "duzen" vs. "Siezen" with someone, so I always defer to the formal. He seemed impressed and somewhat mollified, but I wasn't having it. Also, someone was in the dream who I'm angry with, and when I woke up, I realized I was effin' furious at this person. I wrote a fun poem about it that I'll include below.
I dreamt last night I had a Latino ex who was in the closet. He was a handsome fellow with green eyes and reddish hair. Wouldn't recognize as Spanish until you started talking to him. There was another woman there, who was not happy to see me, and the ex was sort of ignoring both of us as we all got ready to go to Church, or at least that's what it felt like.
Here's the poem:
There are poems in the grime of my bad
upkeep of living space, skittering about
with the dust mites and the resentments.
Ah, yes, I smile in wistfulness. Such fun
recognitions to be had in say, opeing
my shirt drawer to arrange my tops
and expel the misplaced shorts and socks.
Put them in the drawer above, oh yes,
and wil I'm at it, I see I've amassed
some offpissed feelings at that bitch
sometime friend who flew all the way
out here to help her other friend die.
And oh, wouldn't it be great if we could
see each other again? Hm. Sure. And so
I shelled out preceious geld I wished
elsewhere to spend. Bought the bus ticket
to Port Authority, and left message after
futile message, and not once did we even
speak by phone! And by the way, he died,
her friend, how conveeeeeeeeeeeenient that, the hook
of responsibility she so deftly evades yet again
so she can lift not a fuckin' finger to inquire
as to what was going on with me. Oh! And here's
a solo sock. To the trash with ya, 'longside dead friendships!
Another interesting development: I've been dreaming about people of other races. I dreamt two days ago that I was in a reverse "Six Degrees of Separation" (the film/play) situation. I was staying with an upper class black family somewhere in the city. I was doing normal, everyday things like eating breakfast, brushing my teeth, shower/shave, etc. and it seemed every little thing annoyed the bejeesus of the patriarch (interestingly his name was Charles White). I got fed up with him and started to refer to him as "Mr. White". For some reason my getting all formal with him got his attention. I told him I don't make assumptions about whether I can "duzen" vs. "Siezen" with someone, so I always defer to the formal. He seemed impressed and somewhat mollified, but I wasn't having it. Also, someone was in the dream who I'm angry with, and when I woke up, I realized I was effin' furious at this person. I wrote a fun poem about it that I'll include below.
I dreamt last night I had a Latino ex who was in the closet. He was a handsome fellow with green eyes and reddish hair. Wouldn't recognize as Spanish until you started talking to him. There was another woman there, who was not happy to see me, and the ex was sort of ignoring both of us as we all got ready to go to Church, or at least that's what it felt like.
Here's the poem:
There are poems in the grime of my bad
upkeep of living space, skittering about
with the dust mites and the resentments.
Ah, yes, I smile in wistfulness. Such fun
recognitions to be had in say, opeing
my shirt drawer to arrange my tops
and expel the misplaced shorts and socks.
Put them in the drawer above, oh yes,
and wil I'm at it, I see I've amassed
some offpissed feelings at that bitch
sometime friend who flew all the way
out here to help her other friend die.
And oh, wouldn't it be great if we could
see each other again? Hm. Sure. And so
I shelled out preceious geld I wished
elsewhere to spend. Bought the bus ticket
to Port Authority, and left message after
futile message, and not once did we even
speak by phone! And by the way, he died,
her friend, how conveeeeeeeeeeeenient that, the hook
of responsibility she so deftly evades yet again
so she can lift not a fuckin' finger to inquire
as to what was going on with me. Oh! And here's
a solo sock. To the trash with ya, 'longside dead friendships!
Friday, March 23, 2007
3 Swords Hermes Wolf
Fuzzy thinking usually leads to that Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde sort of split that I've been reading about in ye olde sphere du oggly-bloggel-bloggens. One of the basic tools I learned how to use early on in my various recoveries was "think it through." Think through where trying to do something for someone that they can do for themselves would lead me. Think where the first drink would lead, where the first bite of a German chocolate cake would lead me. Where going to the bookstore when I don't have money would lead me. Knowing that these things give me an initial high that is followed by a crash of remorse and self-recrimination, I can make a different choice.
This sort of thinking things through is anathema to Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, the presence of the absent-hearted reactors who need to knee-jerk demonize anyone who doesn't automatically sign on to their point of view. I used to feel scared of the bullies who spout "if you're not with me you're against me," but lately I've been finding them amusing. They remind me of those brainiacs who say "if you don't drink, I can't trust you." Which means they trust people who do drink, and how do you work that out, objectively speaking?
It's "objectivity"--becoming aware of what is and accepting it--that is THE enemy, which is why J/H types seem to be a bit more comfortable with the various versions of themselves that show up in all political stripes. The Pat Robertsons as well as the Larry Kramers. The David Kortens as well as the Milton Friedmans. The Andrea Dworkins as well as the Camille Paglias, etc.
Many people just aren't capable of nuance, of taking in the whole rather than focusing on the part. They remind me of the strange story of a practitioner of astrology that my own astrologer told me about, who said that where Virgo was in a person's chart was the most important thing to look at. More important than the sun, the moon, the ascendant? Wierde! (Weird+merde? I mistyped, but I kinda like it.)
I was thinking about this after seeing a headline on one of the local papers about some people pushing immigration reform. I thought, perhaps that is an issue I could use permaculture principles to explore, as I don't really have a huge emotional stake in it and I can see multiple points-of-view. I can see the point-of-view of the immigrants themselves, looking for a better life, just as I can see the point-of-view of people who have invested their lives in this hopeless system. I can see the grand victimization that is going on, and the seemingly urgent attempts to find scapegoats and fall guys, the desire to deny what is really going on--and denial is sometimes a friend, though it mostly appears to be a friend when it's really holding you up from facing necessary changes. There's a lot more going on with immigration than meets the eye, and there's a lot of exploitation of fears that lead to racialist bunkum that has nothing to do with anything, save for feeding some people's addiction to hate and rage.
There's flow, density, fuel and wisdom to be gleaned from taking the whole issue in and not settling for easy answers, for inviting ALL the parties to the table, even where there is distrust, and for bringing on those pesky emotions as partners to the whole affair. Decisions shouldn't be made solely based on feelings, but neither should they be entirely discounted, and when people feel disappointments at whatever compromises are honestly agreed upon, then those need also to be expressed. And if someone "loses" in the process, then something needs to be done to atone and to make up for the loss. We are all in service to each other, after all. (Non sequitur: Perhaps Donald Trump should start to do windows?)
This sort of thinking things through is anathema to Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde, the presence of the absent-hearted reactors who need to knee-jerk demonize anyone who doesn't automatically sign on to their point of view. I used to feel scared of the bullies who spout "if you're not with me you're against me," but lately I've been finding them amusing. They remind me of those brainiacs who say "if you don't drink, I can't trust you." Which means they trust people who do drink, and how do you work that out, objectively speaking?
It's "objectivity"--becoming aware of what is and accepting it--that is THE enemy, which is why J/H types seem to be a bit more comfortable with the various versions of themselves that show up in all political stripes. The Pat Robertsons as well as the Larry Kramers. The David Kortens as well as the Milton Friedmans. The Andrea Dworkins as well as the Camille Paglias, etc.
Many people just aren't capable of nuance, of taking in the whole rather than focusing on the part. They remind me of the strange story of a practitioner of astrology that my own astrologer told me about, who said that where Virgo was in a person's chart was the most important thing to look at. More important than the sun, the moon, the ascendant? Wierde! (Weird+merde? I mistyped, but I kinda like it.)
I was thinking about this after seeing a headline on one of the local papers about some people pushing immigration reform. I thought, perhaps that is an issue I could use permaculture principles to explore, as I don't really have a huge emotional stake in it and I can see multiple points-of-view. I can see the point-of-view of the immigrants themselves, looking for a better life, just as I can see the point-of-view of people who have invested their lives in this hopeless system. I can see the grand victimization that is going on, and the seemingly urgent attempts to find scapegoats and fall guys, the desire to deny what is really going on--and denial is sometimes a friend, though it mostly appears to be a friend when it's really holding you up from facing necessary changes. There's a lot more going on with immigration than meets the eye, and there's a lot of exploitation of fears that lead to racialist bunkum that has nothing to do with anything, save for feeding some people's addiction to hate and rage.
There's flow, density, fuel and wisdom to be gleaned from taking the whole issue in and not settling for easy answers, for inviting ALL the parties to the table, even where there is distrust, and for bringing on those pesky emotions as partners to the whole affair. Decisions shouldn't be made solely based on feelings, but neither should they be entirely discounted, and when people feel disappointments at whatever compromises are honestly agreed upon, then those need also to be expressed. And if someone "loses" in the process, then something needs to be done to atone and to make up for the loss. We are all in service to each other, after all. (Non sequitur: Perhaps Donald Trump should start to do windows?)
Labels:
astrology,
Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde,
immigration,
permaculture
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Princess Wands Odin Salamander
The last ten days or so, I've been thinking about the notions of anomie and malaise. Each day I leave my house and from about 8 in the morning until 6 at night I enter into a mental fog. For quite awhile I have struggled with this phenomenon. 12 Step work tells me I need to accept the situation once I become aware of it, even if it's not something I would particularly like or approve of. To be able to find the ways to act upon the situation, I must first accept it as it is.
Well, I'm struggling to accept this malaise that accompanies my mandated participation in this decrepitude surrounding us all. "Mandated" by "authorities" (aka cunts) who arrogate "authority" to themselves and impose a "consensus" upon me and upon you, wylion. ["whether you like it or not."]
I accept the cunts, the addicts, the vampires, without accepting their "authority." It's partly why I invoke different deities each day. They help me to get through it all, and now I'm starting to enter into a new phase of my creativity I find pretty damn wonderful, if I do say so myself. I've decided to revise a play I wrote, and I'm going to submit it, a very short "intensity" I wrote several years ago, and a brand spanking new "Post-American Teaching Play" I call Hiawatha Creek Exorcism to a local play festival. (Once I revise it to my liking--I need to expand it threefold.)
I joyfully accept these lessons (and interestingly enough, the Salamander of today aligning with the Storm from the Mayan tzolkin calendar suggests accepting my lessons as blessings and my enemies as angels) and to cheerfully embrace my obligations to slog through it all.
Truth be told, I feel better already! Thanks Bill W. and Dr. Bob!
Well, I'm struggling to accept this malaise that accompanies my mandated participation in this decrepitude surrounding us all. "Mandated" by "authorities" (aka cunts) who arrogate "authority" to themselves and impose a "consensus" upon me and upon you, wylion. ["whether you like it or not."]
I accept the cunts, the addicts, the vampires, without accepting their "authority." It's partly why I invoke different deities each day. They help me to get through it all, and now I'm starting to enter into a new phase of my creativity I find pretty damn wonderful, if I do say so myself. I've decided to revise a play I wrote, and I'm going to submit it, a very short "intensity" I wrote several years ago, and a brand spanking new "Post-American Teaching Play" I call Hiawatha Creek Exorcism to a local play festival. (Once I revise it to my liking--I need to expand it threefold.)
I joyfully accept these lessons (and interestingly enough, the Salamander of today aligning with the Storm from the Mayan tzolkin calendar suggests accepting my lessons as blessings and my enemies as angels) and to cheerfully embrace my obligations to slog through it all.
Truth be told, I feel better already! Thanks Bill W. and Dr. Bob!
Friday, March 09, 2007
Strength Odin Bear - Opening Night!
At long last, the hard work of showing up to rehearsals, learning my lines, delving into the character of "Dale Harding" and interacting while in that character with my fellow crazies. I've pretty much not done much of anything else creatively. Writing draws from a similar map of brainware to what goes into creating a character. I think I can direct a play and write at the same time, because that's mostly administration stuff. Acting isn't "generative" in the same sense that writing is, but there is a different kind of generating going on within the actor, and that process does impinge on the writer, at least in me it does.
(I am able to act and write when a full-time job isn't involved, however. But I haven't been able to create at the workplace for a good decade now, not that I haven't tried.)
I needed to get onstage to jump-start my creativity in a different way. It feels good to be here, but I do long to be able to jump back into my writing. Perhaps I'll be able to get back to it next week.
In any case, I'm excited to be making my Albany debut in a wonderful play.
(I am able to act and write when a full-time job isn't involved, however. But I haven't been able to create at the workplace for a good decade now, not that I haven't tried.)
I needed to get onstage to jump-start my creativity in a different way. It feels good to be here, but I do long to be able to jump back into my writing. Perhaps I'll be able to get back to it next week.
In any case, I'm excited to be making my Albany debut in a wonderful play.
Friday, February 09, 2007
4 Wands Star Goddess Gnome - Weird feelings
I'm sure this is totally tiresome, but I feel blech today--like there's another wave of tears to shed and there's this big blockage that's keeping that from happening. I have felt this before, but this feels really "vomital". Like I've got some minor infection of toxicity that's circulating in my spirit. It's good that I'm thinking of it this way, because I can see that there's this onslaught of entity-energy that's seeking to attach itself to any and all people. They don't really like my energy though, because I'm aware of them and they can only stay with me so long as I'm not aware, so long as I don't visualize the spiritual anatomy surrounding me. Once I do that, it's all over--they vanish!
I also wanted to post because I had a flash of insight into the Harry Potter books and their "application" to the muggle world as we understand it. I was thinking that Voldemort and his Death Eaters are like certain groups of individuals out there with a tendency toward the dark arts. Could it be there are various horcruxes out there for them? Could it be that Jerry Falwell, Pope Prada, Cheney and others like them have split their souls and that their despicable efforts to control all messages going this way and that, their desperate attempts to ignore the al-anonic lesson of "Let Go & Let God/Let Go or Get Dragged" that are backfiring with each moronic attempt to do more of what didn't work 5 minutesa go--could there be some sort of method for destroying these soul-fragments and thereby destroy their influence? I don't know. It was just a thought I had. Fwiw.
I also wanted to post because I had a flash of insight into the Harry Potter books and their "application" to the muggle world as we understand it. I was thinking that Voldemort and his Death Eaters are like certain groups of individuals out there with a tendency toward the dark arts. Could it be there are various horcruxes out there for them? Could it be that Jerry Falwell, Pope Prada, Cheney and others like them have split their souls and that their despicable efforts to control all messages going this way and that, their desperate attempts to ignore the al-anonic lesson of "Let Go & Let God/Let Go or Get Dragged" that are backfiring with each moronic attempt to do more of what didn't work 5 minutesa go--could there be some sort of method for destroying these soul-fragments and thereby destroy their influence? I don't know. It was just a thought I had. Fwiw.
Friday, February 02, 2007
Chariot Kali Iguana - My Japanese Name
According to a Japanese name-generator:
My japanese name is 石丸 Ishimaru (round stone) 一真 Kazuma (one reality).
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Friday, January 26, 2007
2 Cups Hades Otter - Finally Figured Something Out
I'm all caught up in my work for the mo', and I've been surfing the web for a bit, and I saw something that made me go "Oh, yeah!" One blogger stated that "James Webb speaks for me." And that's sort of what made go, "Ah, yes! That's the problem. We're looking for someone to 'speak for me,' rather than speaking to one another about facing the deathiness surrounding us all."
Richard Moore in his thought-provoking book Escaping the Matrix made the observation that electoral politics is a waste of time, and that people who start to make things happen in their communities need to deflect the sirens' calls to "create a movement." Basically, I see people who seek "leaders to speak for them" are not feeling their feet, as it were. They are asking James Webb, et al., to feel their feet for them, as if they could actually do that. When we ask for someone to represent us at some body, we are in essence abdicating our own self-governance. To be fair, this doesn't really apply to world bodies such as Intergroups of 12-Step fellowships, whose "leaders are trusted servants, they do not govern." But when it comes to governance, I'm more and more inclined to believe that it's a grand philosophical, political, socioeconomic game of 3 Card Monte. "Watch for the vote, kiddle-kidz, where's the vote, find the vote. Is it the middle? Ha! Psych! No, the vote's been tallied ahead of time, but thanks for playing the game, now bend over and let me pull out your entrails! I'm entitled to my feast now that I've played you butt good!"
It just sort of hit me all of a sudden, and I thought I needed to share it with whoever might read my bloggellyy-bloggle-blog, Blat Man, Blat Man! But I'd love for people to read my little playkins too. So, hopefully onward!
Richard Moore in his thought-provoking book Escaping the Matrix made the observation that electoral politics is a waste of time, and that people who start to make things happen in their communities need to deflect the sirens' calls to "create a movement." Basically, I see people who seek "leaders to speak for them" are not feeling their feet, as it were. They are asking James Webb, et al., to feel their feet for them, as if they could actually do that. When we ask for someone to represent us at some body, we are in essence abdicating our own self-governance. To be fair, this doesn't really apply to world bodies such as Intergroups of 12-Step fellowships, whose "leaders are trusted servants, they do not govern." But when it comes to governance, I'm more and more inclined to believe that it's a grand philosophical, political, socioeconomic game of 3 Card Monte. "Watch for the vote, kiddle-kidz, where's the vote, find the vote. Is it the middle? Ha! Psych! No, the vote's been tallied ahead of time, but thanks for playing the game, now bend over and let me pull out your entrails! I'm entitled to my feast now that I've played you butt good!"
It just sort of hit me all of a sudden, and I thought I needed to share it with whoever might read my bloggellyy-bloggle-blog, Blat Man, Blat Man! But I'd love for people to read my little playkins too. So, hopefully onward!
Thursday, January 25, 2007
9 Cups Freyja Griffon
I've been cast in a play. I'm playing "Harding" in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and I'm now in the grip of studying my lines and creating a character. Fun stuff.
So I'll hopefully get back into blogging a bit later, but for now I'm sort of out-of-commission.
Still, I did write something fun. I don't remember what blog I read it on, but one of the LGBTQ sites made a remark in passing that gay people aren't ever asked to evaluate str8 relationships, but so many of these busybodies on the batshit-crazy toxic-belief-addict religious right feel they can judge ours. So I thought, what a funny idea: A reality show where queer celebs judge whether two het's are sufficiently matched to become engaged. Ergo:
QUEER EYE FOR THE KNOT-TIE
______________________________
A Comedy Sketch by Cinnumeg
CAST OF CHARACTERS
SION TEIKEDALL Our wonderful, obnoxious, obsequious host!
MELINDA LINDEN-READE Game show contestant bride. Darien blueblood with a guilty
conscience.
BRENT BURLEYSON Game show contestant groom. Trailer trash good ol’ boy
AYN O’LYNGIS Celebrity judge – sex advice columnist.
HELLEN O’DONNELL TRUMPEATER Celebrity judge – talk show host.
RANDIE Celebrity judge – pop singing sensation genderbender.
The action takes place in front of a studio audience.
The set of “Queer Eye for the Knot-Tie.” SL are two stands representing the Bride and Groom. On the Bride’s stand is a phone. SR sit the Three Judges: HELLEN O’DONNELL TRUMPEATER, the ferocious dyke talk show host; AYN O’LYNGIS, the sex columnist with a chip on his shoulder; and the amazing RANDIE, androgynous pop singing sensation. SION TEIKEDALL, the good-looking host runs in.
SION
Good evening, and welcome to “Queer Eye for the Knot-Tie,” the controversial show where people who can’t get married except in Massachusetts sit in gleeful judgment over those who have the dubious privilege of getting their partnerships sanctioned by the State.
HELLEN
And speaking as one who’s been there, done that, let me say it is most dubious, thank you very much!
SION
Yes, I don’t see why we don’t just go to Civil Unions for Everyone, but then again, that may just be why I’m a game show host and not a politician.
AYN O’LYNGIS
That and your prize endowment, big boy.
RANDIE
Heavens, I’m all a vapor!
SION
Well, let me introduce our usual panel of judges. He’s an outrageous sex columnist with a blog called “Pick-A-Pecker” and he’s most delightful when he’s sharp-tongued, give a hand for Ayn O’Lyngis!
AYN O’LYNGIS
Thank you, thank you to all those dicks and pussies that need my attention. Especially the former!
SION
Butt of course! And then we have the ubiquitous and saucy talk show host who’s burning down the house and taking no prisoners, give it up for Hellen O’Donnell Trumpeater!
HELLEN
I know, I know, you all want to be me. H-O-T, that’s me baby!
SION
And last but certainly not least, our most devastating viper because Randie only means well, our pop singing sensation whose gender is FAAAAAAA-BULOUS! Please welcome the amazingly talented Randie!
RANDIE
Hi, al. Trés fabu to be here, I’m sure.
SION
OK, OK, I know you’re all the reason we watch the show, but the reasons we’re here are waiting offstage. So without further adieu, let us meet the ones who want our Queer Eyes to Check Yes for Tying the Knot. He’s a self-described good ol’ boy living in St. Louis, but hailing from Whiskey Holler, South Carolina. Raised on Swanson dinners and Mac n’ Cheese that his Momma still makes in their repo trailer home, please welcome Brent Burleyson!
(BRENT BURLEYSON, a lovable doofus, enters. He wears a baseball cap and a long-sleeve t-shirt.)
BRENT
Hello, everyone. Thank you kindly Sean.
SION
That’s Si-on, Sir.
BRENT
D’Oh!
SION
Yes. Well, let’s meet your intended now. A PhD candidate with a Master’s in French Literature from the University of Connecticut who’s also a self-proclaimed expert in French cuisine, please welcome Melinda Linden-Reade to the show.
(MELINDA LINDEN-READE, a rather unassuming but sharp-eyed and stiff woman, enters.)
MELINDA
Hello, everyone. Charmed I’m sure.
HELLEN
So, Melinda, mon chat. Do you have a favorite French delicacy?
MELINDA
I’m partial to bouillabaisse.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Fishy eh? I see.
RANDIE
Antoine, stop! It’s all down into the sewer with you, isn’t it?
HELLEN
Hey, sometimes the tastiest fish comes from some deep diving, if you know what I mean.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Oh, don’t mind her, girl. She thinks every woman prefers muff to meat.
SION
Well! Before we let this get too sang-Freudian, we’ll transition now into our first challenge for our intended bride and groom. Before the show began, we took each of you aside and asked you both the same question, which was “it’s your squeeze’s parents anniversary in a couple of weeks, and your intended would like for you to get them a gift.” Each of you has answered the question, and now the challenge is to guess what your partner would gift wrap to give to your parents. Now, the judges are going to be paying attention to whether you two are on the same wave-length but also, they will be evaluating their gifts and people who would at some day like to have that same honor. This challenge is worth up to 60 points. Melinda, since you seem to be the more educated one in this to-be family—
BRENT
Hey, I resentuate that remark.
SION
Resentuate away, dear friend. First why don’t you describe your parents a little. What are we dealing with here?
MELINDA
Oh, they’re your average Darien parents. Dad drives his Mercedes SUV and Mom’s on a lot of charity boards.
HELLEN(lockjawed)
Yes, typical Darien everyday! Top Drawer of course.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Fwa-fwa-fwa.
MELINDA
Oh, but Dad does a lot of pro bono work.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Hey, I’m pro boner too! Why haven’t I heard of him?
SION
So Melinda, what do you think Brent would get your parents for their anniversary?
MELINDA
Well, it’s so interesting you would ask that question, Sion because his parents 30th is coming up. But since you’re asking me about what he’d get mine. . . I don’t know.
SION
There is a time limit, Melinda. The clock is ticking.
MELINDA
Well, I don’t know. My parents talk to him about the region of South Carolina he came from. I think maybe he’d get them some fine heirloom from the Low Country that only he and his friends know about.
(A buzzer sounds. The audience groans.)
SION
I’m sorry, that is incorrect. Brent? What did you say?
BRENT
Now, hon I don’t hold it against you. I’d be a man of surprises, like you was alluding to, but I’d get my buddies and family to he’p chip in and get your parents two bus tickets to join us for a right old Whiskey Holler festival for them to whip up a tune for!
MELINDA(horrified)
Oh, no, Brent! You really shouldn’t!
BRENT
Oh, tain’t no trouble at all, lassie. It’d be a swell ride from Hartford to Charleston and a slide down a pig in a poke right into my old Homestead, a’s right! See how we do things down there.
MELINDA
Where’s this coming from? We’ll talk about it later.
RANDIE
Well, I do declare, I sense an old Connecticut chill descending across this Maxson-Dissin’ line!
MELINDA & SION
That’s Mason-Dixon.
RANDIE
What-EV-er!
SION
Speaking of What-EV-er, it’s time to find out what ye olde judges think of Melinda’s answer and Brent’s gift. Ayn, let’s take you first.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Well, I’d say that the gift itself is a mite extravagant for Brent and his homies, and Melinda was off the mark about the heirloom thing, though she at least got in the ball park putting it together that her parents would appreciate some token from Confederal Way. I’d give them a 3.5.
SION
OK, and Hellen?
HELLEN
I sense some tension about this whole thing, like this question has ripped out the heart of the relationship. 2.
SION
Oooh! Cruella Deville herself. And Amazing Randie?
RANDIE
Oh, I want everyone to be happy. I give them a 3.
SION
All right then let’s see the other way around. Brent, your parents really are having their 30th?
BRENT
That’s right, sir. The middle of next month.
SION
Not Valentine’s Day.
(AUDIENCE goes AWWWW!)
BRENT
Yep, my parents are romantics. They always have the customary 3 packs of Twinkies for dessert.
MELINDA
They really are the sweetest people.
HELLEN
Stop, I’m going into sugar shock already!
RANDIE
Let’s give you an insolence shot!
AYN O’LYNGIS
Thirty years, huh! Wow. My partner and I have been together for 12. How do they do it?
BRENT
One thing I’ve learned from them, it’s the little things that count.
RANDIE
So Brent, what do you think your beloved would get your parents?
BRENT
Tell the truth, I’m scared to answer that . . .. bruhster.
RANDIE
Ohmigod! I think he gets it!
HELLEN
We’ll see how long THAT lasts.
BRENT
I love my Melinda Linden-Reader-Reade. But she’s a bit clueless about my parents. I bet she’d get them something she thinks would be cute but without my guidance, I don’t know. A year’s supply of Ham?
(Buzzer sounds.)
MELINDA(impressed, but embarrassed)
Rats! That was actually something I thought about.
BRENT(hides his face)
Oh, my.
SION
So, Melinda what did you say?
MELINDA
Well, I’m trying to be responsible like we talk about, and I know that you would probably tell me to get something else, but I know your Mom and Dad are partial to your sister Brenda’s kids and your brother Brian’s too—
AYN O’LYNGIS
Your parents named you Brent, Brenda and Brian?
BRENT
Yep. And Bryllis and Brevick bring up the rear. No offense.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Ha! None taken. I like this guy.
BRENT
So what’s the damage?
MELINDA
I said I’d get them a bunch of kids toys like a Slip ‘N’ Slide and whiffle bats and the like. So they’d have that stuff on deck when the grandkids came.
BRENT(alarmed)
You’re not--?
MELINDA
Me? No! Of course not! We use protection.
BRENT
Whew.
SION
Well, yes, that would be unfortunate if Darien had to shotgun Whiskey Holler into a driveby wedding wouldn’t it?
BRENT
All in all, I’m mildly pleased. Though I would still give you guidance, Mel. There’s better things out there than that.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Oh, come on! There’s nothing better than a slip ‘n’ slide! What I always say!
SION
So, Judges, how do you rate this one? Did they pull it out of the hat?
RANDIE
Sir, you are a peach. I think you’re just wonderful, and I do hope the best for you. I give these answers an 4.
SION
Very good. And Hellen?
HELLEN
Well, I don’t know. They don’t quite pull it out of the hat for me, but they did do better. 3.
SION
That’s pretty good for Hellen. And last but not least, our sexpert, Ayn?
AYN O’LYNGIS
I have to grudgingly give he same score as I did the last time. 3.5. I’m not sure you two belong together yet.
SION
There you have it for the first half of our challenge. Right now you have a score of 19, not great, but you’re not out of the running yet! Still, you’ll have to get 26 points for us to give you that all expense paid trip to the Beach Resort of your choice. On to our FINAL CHALLENGE! All right. This is also for thirty points. Brent, Melinda, this will involve some role-playing on both your parts. Now, we did an intake interview with you, and both of you said that Brent was the one who handles crises better, correct?
MELINDA
Yes, I hate to admit it, but I’m a stereotypical Gemini. I go to pieces at the slightest.
RANDIE
I resent that remark.
(Brightly)
But I don’t!
SION
Well, tough luck kiddo, because you’re the one who gets to role play the situation of crisis. This is the deal. It’s 4:50 on the Friday before you get married and you get a desperate phone call from your caterer. She tells you that due to an oil spill in Alaska, the salmon you ordered for the reception will not be coming in. By the time you get off the phone with her, you only have five minutes to come up with an alternate plan.
MELINDA
Oh, my. We have to have . . . Oh no.
SION
All right, girlfriend, breathe. This is a situation that could happen. Now, Brent. You’re not available, but it just so happens that her father is, and this is where you come in. You get to play Lincoln Linden-Reade in this situation.
BRENT
You want me to playact as I’m Mr. Lincoln, huh?
MELINDA(desperately)
Can he be my mother instead? She’s better at this sort of thing.
BRENT
Yeah, truth be told she’s right.
SION
Judges?
RANDIE
In the spirit of gender bending I say GO FOR IT, bruhster!
BRENT(embarrassed kinda)
Well, I guess that’s a compliment huh?
HELLEN
This ought to be interesting.
AYN O’LYNGIS
You took the words right out of my mouth, to make it available for other things maybe.
SION
All right then. The judges will be looking not only to see how well you negotiate this crisis, but also to see how well Brent knows Olga Linden-Reade and also, to throw in a bit of psychodrama, how her relationship with her daughter might impact the marriage.
AYN
Yes, I love to get all Freudian on you.
SION
Melinda. And “Olga”. You have five minutes. Go!
MELINDA
OK. OK. OK. OK. OK.
BRENT-AS-OLGA(clipped, business-like and just a tad cruel with a New England accent)
Tut, tut, punkin. These things are to be expected.
MELINDA
But we got the salmon because Aunt Olivia and all her side of the family—
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Well, I know Olivia claims to be allergic to chicken. She never got over that one time we got a bucket of KFC and that gizzard thingie—
MELINDA
Oh, mom. The wedding’s going to be a disaster.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Easy, punkin, easy. Do they have other seafood?
MELINDA
What difference does it make?
BRENT-AS-OLGA(brutal)
Punkin, we really don’t have time for this. Do I have to get out my little box of goodies?
(MELINDA’s eyes get big.)
The wedding’s on Sunday and they need a decision now. First things first, like Brent’s daddy would say.
(MELINDA glares at him.)
Well, he would. Punkin. Halibut would be fine. Trout. In fact, trout Almondine—
MELINDA
We can’t. Brent’s sisters have peanut allergies.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Tsk tsk. Let them have chicken!
MELINDA
I suppose.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Well, it’s really all up to you. It’s your wedding.
MELINDA
It’s your wedding as much as it is mine.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Yes, and it’s Tricia Mae’s as well, but the decision is in your hands. I think we have a couple of options. But then you know more don’t you?
MELINDA
Well, they don’t have salmon. They do have other fish, I guess. I’ll call them back.
(She dials a phone on her stand.)
Hello? This is Miss Linden-Reade—yes. Thank you. What other fish do you have besides the salmon? Snapper? Oh. That’s … that’s even better than salmon. Did you have that all the time? Oh. Well, then. We’ll go with that. Wow. You’ll have enough for 200 people? Well, then. Whew. Thank you.
(She hangs up. Canned applause, if possible.)
SION
Well, that was mighty efficient of you.
BRENT
Tweren’t perfect though, I can tell.
MELINDA
Brent’s daddy, huh?
BRENT
Yeah, yeah.
SION
Melinda, I take it that you didn’t really feel he did a good job playing your mother?
MELINDA
Well, he sort of knew how to snap back into it once I made my feelings known.
HELLEN
It’s nice to get them on a leash isn’t it?
AYN O’LYNGIS
Ruff ruff!
SION
So, judges, what’s your take?
HELLEN
Brent, honey, you’re a scary lady. You seem to have what it takes to bring out the beast in her. 8.
SION
Wow, that’s generous of our priestess of Kali, isn’t it? Ayn?
AYN O’LYNGIS
I had my doubts, but you two seem to be made for each other. 9.
SION
Goodness! Well I think there might be wedding bells in your future.
RANDIE
Oh, it’s so sad, and so wonderful, and so Donna Reed! 9.
SION
That means you got 26 points and you’re going off to have your honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta!
BRENT(excited, but sad)
Yee hawdie!
MELINDA(unsure, unsettled)
Well.
SION
Yes, yes, you two are destined to join the ranks of the future ex-spouses of America. And that concludes another episode of Queer Eye for the Knot-Tie. Be here tomorrow when we bring on our celebrity on celebrity edition with Britney Spears and her latest Man-Toy!
RANDIE
Swing Out, Bruhsters!
END OF SKETCH
So I'll hopefully get back into blogging a bit later, but for now I'm sort of out-of-commission.
Still, I did write something fun. I don't remember what blog I read it on, but one of the LGBTQ sites made a remark in passing that gay people aren't ever asked to evaluate str8 relationships, but so many of these busybodies on the batshit-crazy toxic-belief-addict religious right feel they can judge ours. So I thought, what a funny idea: A reality show where queer celebs judge whether two het's are sufficiently matched to become engaged. Ergo:
QUEER EYE FOR THE KNOT-TIE
______________________________
A Comedy Sketch by Cinnumeg
CAST OF CHARACTERS
SION TEIKEDALL Our wonderful, obnoxious, obsequious host!
MELINDA LINDEN-READE Game show contestant bride. Darien blueblood with a guilty
conscience.
BRENT BURLEYSON Game show contestant groom. Trailer trash good ol’ boy
AYN O’LYNGIS Celebrity judge – sex advice columnist.
HELLEN O’DONNELL TRUMPEATER Celebrity judge – talk show host.
RANDIE Celebrity judge – pop singing sensation genderbender.
The action takes place in front of a studio audience.
SETTING & AT RISE:
The set of “Queer Eye for the Knot-Tie.” SL are two stands representing the Bride and Groom. On the Bride’s stand is a phone. SR sit the Three Judges: HELLEN O’DONNELL TRUMPEATER, the ferocious dyke talk show host; AYN O’LYNGIS, the sex columnist with a chip on his shoulder; and the amazing RANDIE, androgynous pop singing sensation. SION TEIKEDALL, the good-looking host runs in.
SION
Good evening, and welcome to “Queer Eye for the Knot-Tie,” the controversial show where people who can’t get married except in Massachusetts sit in gleeful judgment over those who have the dubious privilege of getting their partnerships sanctioned by the State.
HELLEN
And speaking as one who’s been there, done that, let me say it is most dubious, thank you very much!
SION
Yes, I don’t see why we don’t just go to Civil Unions for Everyone, but then again, that may just be why I’m a game show host and not a politician.
AYN O’LYNGIS
That and your prize endowment, big boy.
RANDIE
Heavens, I’m all a vapor!
SION
Well, let me introduce our usual panel of judges. He’s an outrageous sex columnist with a blog called “Pick-A-Pecker” and he’s most delightful when he’s sharp-tongued, give a hand for Ayn O’Lyngis!
AYN O’LYNGIS
Thank you, thank you to all those dicks and pussies that need my attention. Especially the former!
SION
Butt of course! And then we have the ubiquitous and saucy talk show host who’s burning down the house and taking no prisoners, give it up for Hellen O’Donnell Trumpeater!
HELLEN
I know, I know, you all want to be me. H-O-T, that’s me baby!
SION
And last but certainly not least, our most devastating viper because Randie only means well, our pop singing sensation whose gender is FAAAAAAA-BULOUS! Please welcome the amazingly talented Randie!
RANDIE
Hi, al. Trés fabu to be here, I’m sure.
SION
OK, OK, I know you’re all the reason we watch the show, but the reasons we’re here are waiting offstage. So without further adieu, let us meet the ones who want our Queer Eyes to Check Yes for Tying the Knot. He’s a self-described good ol’ boy living in St. Louis, but hailing from Whiskey Holler, South Carolina. Raised on Swanson dinners and Mac n’ Cheese that his Momma still makes in their repo trailer home, please welcome Brent Burleyson!
(BRENT BURLEYSON, a lovable doofus, enters. He wears a baseball cap and a long-sleeve t-shirt.)
BRENT
Hello, everyone. Thank you kindly Sean.
SION
That’s Si-on, Sir.
BRENT
D’Oh!
SION
Yes. Well, let’s meet your intended now. A PhD candidate with a Master’s in French Literature from the University of Connecticut who’s also a self-proclaimed expert in French cuisine, please welcome Melinda Linden-Reade to the show.
(MELINDA LINDEN-READE, a rather unassuming but sharp-eyed and stiff woman, enters.)
MELINDA
Hello, everyone. Charmed I’m sure.
HELLEN
So, Melinda, mon chat. Do you have a favorite French delicacy?
MELINDA
I’m partial to bouillabaisse.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Fishy eh? I see.
RANDIE
Antoine, stop! It’s all down into the sewer with you, isn’t it?
HELLEN
Hey, sometimes the tastiest fish comes from some deep diving, if you know what I mean.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Oh, don’t mind her, girl. She thinks every woman prefers muff to meat.
SION
Well! Before we let this get too sang-Freudian, we’ll transition now into our first challenge for our intended bride and groom. Before the show began, we took each of you aside and asked you both the same question, which was “it’s your squeeze’s parents anniversary in a couple of weeks, and your intended would like for you to get them a gift.” Each of you has answered the question, and now the challenge is to guess what your partner would gift wrap to give to your parents. Now, the judges are going to be paying attention to whether you two are on the same wave-length but also, they will be evaluating their gifts and people who would at some day like to have that same honor. This challenge is worth up to 60 points. Melinda, since you seem to be the more educated one in this to-be family—
BRENT
Hey, I resentuate that remark.
SION
Resentuate away, dear friend. First why don’t you describe your parents a little. What are we dealing with here?
MELINDA
Oh, they’re your average Darien parents. Dad drives his Mercedes SUV and Mom’s on a lot of charity boards.
HELLEN(lockjawed)
Yes, typical Darien everyday! Top Drawer of course.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Fwa-fwa-fwa.
MELINDA
Oh, but Dad does a lot of pro bono work.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Hey, I’m pro boner too! Why haven’t I heard of him?
SION
So Melinda, what do you think Brent would get your parents for their anniversary?
MELINDA
Well, it’s so interesting you would ask that question, Sion because his parents 30th is coming up. But since you’re asking me about what he’d get mine. . . I don’t know.
SION
There is a time limit, Melinda. The clock is ticking.
MELINDA
Well, I don’t know. My parents talk to him about the region of South Carolina he came from. I think maybe he’d get them some fine heirloom from the Low Country that only he and his friends know about.
(A buzzer sounds. The audience groans.)
SION
I’m sorry, that is incorrect. Brent? What did you say?
BRENT
Now, hon I don’t hold it against you. I’d be a man of surprises, like you was alluding to, but I’d get my buddies and family to he’p chip in and get your parents two bus tickets to join us for a right old Whiskey Holler festival for them to whip up a tune for!
MELINDA(horrified)
Oh, no, Brent! You really shouldn’t!
BRENT
Oh, tain’t no trouble at all, lassie. It’d be a swell ride from Hartford to Charleston and a slide down a pig in a poke right into my old Homestead, a’s right! See how we do things down there.
MELINDA
Where’s this coming from? We’ll talk about it later.
RANDIE
Well, I do declare, I sense an old Connecticut chill descending across this Maxson-Dissin’ line!
MELINDA & SION
That’s Mason-Dixon.
RANDIE
What-EV-er!
SION
Speaking of What-EV-er, it’s time to find out what ye olde judges think of Melinda’s answer and Brent’s gift. Ayn, let’s take you first.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Well, I’d say that the gift itself is a mite extravagant for Brent and his homies, and Melinda was off the mark about the heirloom thing, though she at least got in the ball park putting it together that her parents would appreciate some token from Confederal Way. I’d give them a 3.5.
SION
OK, and Hellen?
HELLEN
I sense some tension about this whole thing, like this question has ripped out the heart of the relationship. 2.
SION
Oooh! Cruella Deville herself. And Amazing Randie?
RANDIE
Oh, I want everyone to be happy. I give them a 3.
SION
All right then let’s see the other way around. Brent, your parents really are having their 30th?
BRENT
That’s right, sir. The middle of next month.
SION
Not Valentine’s Day.
(AUDIENCE goes AWWWW!)
BRENT
Yep, my parents are romantics. They always have the customary 3 packs of Twinkies for dessert.
MELINDA
They really are the sweetest people.
HELLEN
Stop, I’m going into sugar shock already!
RANDIE
Let’s give you an insolence shot!
AYN O’LYNGIS
Thirty years, huh! Wow. My partner and I have been together for 12. How do they do it?
BRENT
One thing I’ve learned from them, it’s the little things that count.
RANDIE
So Brent, what do you think your beloved would get your parents?
BRENT
Tell the truth, I’m scared to answer that . . .. bruhster.
RANDIE
Ohmigod! I think he gets it!
HELLEN
We’ll see how long THAT lasts.
BRENT
I love my Melinda Linden-Reader-Reade. But she’s a bit clueless about my parents. I bet she’d get them something she thinks would be cute but without my guidance, I don’t know. A year’s supply of Ham?
(Buzzer sounds.)
MELINDA(impressed, but embarrassed)
Rats! That was actually something I thought about.
BRENT(hides his face)
Oh, my.
SION
So, Melinda what did you say?
MELINDA
Well, I’m trying to be responsible like we talk about, and I know that you would probably tell me to get something else, but I know your Mom and Dad are partial to your sister Brenda’s kids and your brother Brian’s too—
AYN O’LYNGIS
Your parents named you Brent, Brenda and Brian?
BRENT
Yep. And Bryllis and Brevick bring up the rear. No offense.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Ha! None taken. I like this guy.
BRENT
So what’s the damage?
MELINDA
I said I’d get them a bunch of kids toys like a Slip ‘N’ Slide and whiffle bats and the like. So they’d have that stuff on deck when the grandkids came.
BRENT(alarmed)
You’re not--?
MELINDA
Me? No! Of course not! We use protection.
BRENT
Whew.
SION
Well, yes, that would be unfortunate if Darien had to shotgun Whiskey Holler into a driveby wedding wouldn’t it?
BRENT
All in all, I’m mildly pleased. Though I would still give you guidance, Mel. There’s better things out there than that.
AYN O’LYNGIS
Oh, come on! There’s nothing better than a slip ‘n’ slide! What I always say!
SION
So, Judges, how do you rate this one? Did they pull it out of the hat?
RANDIE
Sir, you are a peach. I think you’re just wonderful, and I do hope the best for you. I give these answers an 4.
SION
Very good. And Hellen?
HELLEN
Well, I don’t know. They don’t quite pull it out of the hat for me, but they did do better. 3.
SION
That’s pretty good for Hellen. And last but not least, our sexpert, Ayn?
AYN O’LYNGIS
I have to grudgingly give he same score as I did the last time. 3.5. I’m not sure you two belong together yet.
SION
There you have it for the first half of our challenge. Right now you have a score of 19, not great, but you’re not out of the running yet! Still, you’ll have to get 26 points for us to give you that all expense paid trip to the Beach Resort of your choice. On to our FINAL CHALLENGE! All right. This is also for thirty points. Brent, Melinda, this will involve some role-playing on both your parts. Now, we did an intake interview with you, and both of you said that Brent was the one who handles crises better, correct?
MELINDA
Yes, I hate to admit it, but I’m a stereotypical Gemini. I go to pieces at the slightest.
RANDIE
I resent that remark.
(Brightly)
But I don’t!
SION
Well, tough luck kiddo, because you’re the one who gets to role play the situation of crisis. This is the deal. It’s 4:50 on the Friday before you get married and you get a desperate phone call from your caterer. She tells you that due to an oil spill in Alaska, the salmon you ordered for the reception will not be coming in. By the time you get off the phone with her, you only have five minutes to come up with an alternate plan.
MELINDA
Oh, my. We have to have . . . Oh no.
SION
All right, girlfriend, breathe. This is a situation that could happen. Now, Brent. You’re not available, but it just so happens that her father is, and this is where you come in. You get to play Lincoln Linden-Reade in this situation.
BRENT
You want me to playact as I’m Mr. Lincoln, huh?
MELINDA(desperately)
Can he be my mother instead? She’s better at this sort of thing.
BRENT
Yeah, truth be told she’s right.
SION
Judges?
RANDIE
In the spirit of gender bending I say GO FOR IT, bruhster!
BRENT(embarrassed kinda)
Well, I guess that’s a compliment huh?
HELLEN
This ought to be interesting.
AYN O’LYNGIS
You took the words right out of my mouth, to make it available for other things maybe.
SION
All right then. The judges will be looking not only to see how well you negotiate this crisis, but also to see how well Brent knows Olga Linden-Reade and also, to throw in a bit of psychodrama, how her relationship with her daughter might impact the marriage.
AYN
Yes, I love to get all Freudian on you.
SION
Melinda. And “Olga”. You have five minutes. Go!
MELINDA
OK. OK. OK. OK. OK.
BRENT-AS-OLGA(clipped, business-like and just a tad cruel with a New England accent)
Tut, tut, punkin. These things are to be expected.
MELINDA
But we got the salmon because Aunt Olivia and all her side of the family—
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Well, I know Olivia claims to be allergic to chicken. She never got over that one time we got a bucket of KFC and that gizzard thingie—
MELINDA
Oh, mom. The wedding’s going to be a disaster.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Easy, punkin, easy. Do they have other seafood?
MELINDA
What difference does it make?
BRENT-AS-OLGA(brutal)
Punkin, we really don’t have time for this. Do I have to get out my little box of goodies?
(MELINDA’s eyes get big.)
The wedding’s on Sunday and they need a decision now. First things first, like Brent’s daddy would say.
(MELINDA glares at him.)
Well, he would. Punkin. Halibut would be fine. Trout. In fact, trout Almondine—
MELINDA
We can’t. Brent’s sisters have peanut allergies.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Tsk tsk. Let them have chicken!
MELINDA
I suppose.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Well, it’s really all up to you. It’s your wedding.
MELINDA
It’s your wedding as much as it is mine.
BRENT-AS-OLGA
Yes, and it’s Tricia Mae’s as well, but the decision is in your hands. I think we have a couple of options. But then you know more don’t you?
MELINDA
Well, they don’t have salmon. They do have other fish, I guess. I’ll call them back.
(She dials a phone on her stand.)
Hello? This is Miss Linden-Reade—yes. Thank you. What other fish do you have besides the salmon? Snapper? Oh. That’s … that’s even better than salmon. Did you have that all the time? Oh. Well, then. We’ll go with that. Wow. You’ll have enough for 200 people? Well, then. Whew. Thank you.
(She hangs up. Canned applause, if possible.)
SION
Well, that was mighty efficient of you.
BRENT
Tweren’t perfect though, I can tell.
MELINDA
Brent’s daddy, huh?
BRENT
Yeah, yeah.
SION
Melinda, I take it that you didn’t really feel he did a good job playing your mother?
MELINDA
Well, he sort of knew how to snap back into it once I made my feelings known.
HELLEN
It’s nice to get them on a leash isn’t it?
AYN O’LYNGIS
Ruff ruff!
SION
So, judges, what’s your take?
HELLEN
Brent, honey, you’re a scary lady. You seem to have what it takes to bring out the beast in her. 8.
SION
Wow, that’s generous of our priestess of Kali, isn’t it? Ayn?
AYN O’LYNGIS
I had my doubts, but you two seem to be made for each other. 9.
SION
Goodness! Well I think there might be wedding bells in your future.
RANDIE
Oh, it’s so sad, and so wonderful, and so Donna Reed! 9.
SION
That means you got 26 points and you’re going off to have your honeymoon in Puerto Vallarta!
BRENT(excited, but sad)
Yee hawdie!
MELINDA(unsure, unsettled)
Well.
SION
Yes, yes, you two are destined to join the ranks of the future ex-spouses of America. And that concludes another episode of Queer Eye for the Knot-Tie. Be here tomorrow when we bring on our celebrity on celebrity edition with Britney Spears and her latest Man-Toy!
RANDIE
Swing Out, Bruhsters!
END OF SKETCH
Thursday, January 04, 2007
5 Wands Hermes Goat - Dream, finances
This morning, I woke up angry. I'd had a dream where I was trying to establish a new restaurant in New York City. I had a notion of setting it up somewhere on First Avenue between 6th and 12th Streets. I wanted to do it all by myself, however. It was a dream, so the "reality" of that is not the same as the waking world o' Maya. But still. I mean--really! I was going to set this up without having to hire anyone to cook, serve, clean dishes etc.? My dream self was deflecting these questions for some reason, knowing they were indeed legitimate, but unable to square these issues with the finances behind it.
Which for some reason got me thinking about the cunteous student loan debt I'm being Citigrouped by. "Citigrouped"="gouged"="fleeced"="decunted"="sucked-dry"="vampirized" etc. I swear, I looked at the cunteous missive I got in the mail from Student Loan Cuntoration and I saw the balance of the loan at a certain number, and I keep expecting it to go under another certain number. It seems to me it should have gotten there by now, but of cunt-course it hasn't.
I've paid about $40,000 thus far. There's something really WRONG with this picture. What are these vampires doing? Part of it is that I've been in a fog, and the cunts have been of course taking advantage of this.
So I guess this is a part of my awakening process. It's one of my 2007 Intentions (I don't use the word "resolutions" because it's really inadequate to the task) to significantly reduce my debt. It's also an intention to significantly up my income. I'm not sure what the best answer is to all of this, but I need to put it into the metaverse, the multiverse, turn it over to the Gods and Goddesses, and creature guides, that I dance free and clear of debt.
It has already come to pass that I'm free of debt. That is the magickal working I create at this time.
Hermes and Goat are my energies of this 10 Ik day. It's interesting that 10 is a number of manifestation and Ik is the wind. In my spectrum of deities and guides, I link Hermes to North (though at one point he was my East god, both directions being possibly linked to air, though I think of North as Earth and East as Air), and I link the Goat to the 2nd Chakra. Both rather earthy energies, really, though the 2nd chakra has elements of water and fire as well. Hermes revealed to me another dimension's ties to the issue of My Debting. I saw all these vaporous scaries, these darkling demons scampering about, until I let my eyes shine light on them, and they all became like dust bunnies. It was fascinating to witness this, and see that my anger, my resentments and shame and embarassment over this situation are phantasms. What is up to me is to use the tools of joyous obligation and gratitude to dig myself out of this unwanted situation.
And so I need to say that I'm grateful for the opportunity I received back in the years 1993-95 to have gone to graduate school, and to have learned more about the craft of writing dramatic scripts. It is my joyous obligation to pay for that, even if I have not been the most responsible about it and that I have been oblivious as to my omissions and deferrals. I have added to my burden through my lack of awareness and now it's time to say "enough." I am grateful that these are my lessons, and I pray that the blessings make themselves known to me, even as I feel all these phantasmic feelings and release them from the bondage to the false self. I will no longer immolate myself on a pyre of abasement.
Which for some reason got me thinking about the cunteous student loan debt I'm being Citigrouped by. "Citigrouped"="gouged"="fleeced"="decunted"="sucked-dry"="vampirized" etc. I swear, I looked at the cunteous missive I got in the mail from Student Loan Cuntoration and I saw the balance of the loan at a certain number, and I keep expecting it to go under another certain number. It seems to me it should have gotten there by now, but of cunt-course it hasn't.
I've paid about $40,000 thus far. There's something really WRONG with this picture. What are these vampires doing? Part of it is that I've been in a fog, and the cunts have been of course taking advantage of this.
So I guess this is a part of my awakening process. It's one of my 2007 Intentions (I don't use the word "resolutions" because it's really inadequate to the task) to significantly reduce my debt. It's also an intention to significantly up my income. I'm not sure what the best answer is to all of this, but I need to put it into the metaverse, the multiverse, turn it over to the Gods and Goddesses, and creature guides, that I dance free and clear of debt.
It has already come to pass that I'm free of debt. That is the magickal working I create at this time.
Hermes and Goat are my energies of this 10 Ik day. It's interesting that 10 is a number of manifestation and Ik is the wind. In my spectrum of deities and guides, I link Hermes to North (though at one point he was my East god, both directions being possibly linked to air, though I think of North as Earth and East as Air), and I link the Goat to the 2nd Chakra. Both rather earthy energies, really, though the 2nd chakra has elements of water and fire as well. Hermes revealed to me another dimension's ties to the issue of My Debting. I saw all these vaporous scaries, these darkling demons scampering about, until I let my eyes shine light on them, and they all became like dust bunnies. It was fascinating to witness this, and see that my anger, my resentments and shame and embarassment over this situation are phantasms. What is up to me is to use the tools of joyous obligation and gratitude to dig myself out of this unwanted situation.
And so I need to say that I'm grateful for the opportunity I received back in the years 1993-95 to have gone to graduate school, and to have learned more about the craft of writing dramatic scripts. It is my joyous obligation to pay for that, even if I have not been the most responsible about it and that I have been oblivious as to my omissions and deferrals. I have added to my burden through my lack of awareness and now it's time to say "enough." I am grateful that these are my lessons, and I pray that the blessings make themselves known to me, even as I feel all these phantasmic feelings and release them from the bondage to the false self. I will no longer immolate myself on a pyre of abasement.
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