Ashes to Soot, addendum

I wrote a little ditty the other day. Sometimes I am so compelled to put finger to keyboard due to a rush of insight or a tidal wave of emotion. But this instance in question was as monumental as the proverbial flood.

I was in the hospital having some tests run. I had been there all the day long. Gawd, I hate these pastel walls and little arrows on the floor. But my stay was almost over after nine grueling hours (or so I had thought).  I was finally released from that tortuous bed of lies, all the rubber straps removed. I was told to walk, but ran instead, straight to the bathroom.

However, as I approached a small curtained room way off in the corner of the ward I paused. For there, in this bed, all alone, in this fragile corner of suffering, was a dear friend I thought healed and happy. She had been fighting that battle royal with the dread melanoma.  She had tried everything, had even gone through trials (sanctioned experiments in all seriousness), as many trials as her immune system allowed. The news had been good last I had heard.  Yea, so I had heard.

Yet here she was, so lost and forlorn, ragged and beaten to the sheets. I called her name and it took an eternity for her to open those piercing blue eyes. Oh damn!  Did I inadvertently call her back from the brink of that abyss she so obviously welcomed in relief? I expected to find pain in that visage but found acceptance instead. She spoke of her struggle, not with "why me's", but with "it was a good fight". Told me that it was almost over, and about the new grandbaby-to-be she would never get to see in person (though I fully believe she has communed with in spirit).

My heart opened up and I gave her my all, anything she needed to ease her way, anything I could do, just anything.  And then I began to bleed. It was like a stigmata. I felt no pain, no worry.  Fear was left far behind me. I held her hand and bled for her. For you see, she was there for a platelet transfusion.

Because I had been gone so long, the nurses had hunted me down. They asked me what I was doing and I said "administering to a friend".  That’s when the blood was spotted and chaos ensued.  Oh yes, I had bled for her indeed.  My femoral artery had blown and I was seeping like a fountain.  They dragged me out of her hands, and all I remember from that point on was pounding fists and screams.  After three more hours of bondage and cussing I sprang up from the bed, albeit in slow motion, and went looking for my friend, but to no avail. She was gone, the bed empty and tidied as if it hadn’t been used for days. What was even stranger was that no one remembered seeing her there. . . .

Ashes to Soot

I looked across the room

and saw mortality looking deep within

the spark of that taper lit, smoke and suet

disguising the lightness of being

that once rushed out to meet life heart first

now, only a flickering behind the screen of shadows

tossing and kneeling in fear

their last grasp a shallow bundle of season

twisted and shorn beyond any semblance of regard

~

I looked across the room

and opened my heart to you

my blood flowing free and smooth

compassion merging with those puddles

leaked of an inertia spent at war with this enemy within

no quarter gained nor forfeit

the truce but a frayed banner stained with time

~

I can't cross this great divide with you

the one that separates the willing from the tired

a whisper from a shout, this tear from an ocean

but I light my candles in celebration to you

your breath fully grounded in love

progeny springing forth from the dust of your passage

a conduit to future memories prevailing in perpetuum....

Rest easy my friend ~ and go with peace

Ashes to Soot

i looked across the room
and saw mortality looking deep within
the spark of that taper lit, smoke and suet
disguising the lightness of being
that once rushed out to meet life heart first
now, only a flickering behind the screen of shadows
tossing and kneeling in fear
their last grasp a shallow bundle of season
twisted and shorn beyond any semblence of regard
~

i looked across the room
and opened my heart to you
my blood flowing free and smooth
compassion merging with those puddles
leaked of an inertia spent at war with this enemy within
no quarter gained nor forfeit
the truce but a frayed banner stained with time
~

i can't cross this great divide with you
the one that separates the willing from the tired
a whisper from a shout, this tear from an ocean
but i light my candles in celebration to you
your breath fully grounded in love
progeny springing forth from the dust of your passage
a conduit to future memories prevailing in perpetuum....

rest easy my friend and go with peace

Under the Overpass

Under the Over pass It was midmorning, and an even quieter interval for being the middle of the week. I was off work for some reason (the reason escapes me at the moment) and had took off up to the north (again…for some un-remembered compulsion, heh). I had pulled up to a light to do what we city dwellers do best….wait. It was one of those lights under an overpass (that should be the title of one of those drinking songs~), the traffic roaring through the blue, cloud-ridden sky above. So it was doubly peaceful and sparse of bodies down here below.

the traffic left behind....hmmm. does that mean the freeway equals the Rapture? oh nevermind.... Anyways, I had pulled up behind a small car, one young people get or are given as a right of passage when leaving the nest (or is it for bribery purposes? Get Out! hehe). Another car pulls up beside me and the 2 usable lanes are now fully emergency-vehicle blocked. YaY~

The car in front of me contains 3 very young Hispanic girls, the oldest of which couldn't have been much more than driver's license age. Three young, bouncy, long and curly-haired chicas, out to conquer their little piece of the world with hair spray and chicle.

We all sit there for about 15 seconds, automatons winding down after the death-race from the previous light (as if our lives depended on getting somewhere…if only we knew where....) letting the exhaust fumes lull us into the chemical numbness inherent to big cities.

Then it begins….
The driver, obliviously bored and wanting to get to who-knew-where to impress who-knew-who, looked into the rear view mirror and did that little hair fluff thingey. You know….pat – poke – lift – Flip Then looked straight ahead to destination unknown. 5 or so seconds go by….

The front seat passenger snaps the sun visor down to peruse her image in the hidden mirror. And what do you think occurs? Yep….pat – poke – lift – Flip Visor tossed back up out of sight, eyes straight ahead to…. there….over there. Another elapse of a miniscule measurement….

The backseat lassie squeezes her sparkly-spandexed self between the 2 front seats to view her teased visage in the rear view mirage. And….pat – poke – lift – Flip Everything settles back into that zen state of semi-consciousness we all get after rushing wantonly nowhere. 5 seconds, 10 seconds, this light is.…simply a light. Nothing profound here people.

Then OMG!
A frenzied eruption in the compact car! It starts tilting from to, then fro. Arms flailing about in the air, visors snapping up and down, mirrors flashing and blinding all within sight. What in the heck has transpired while my head was turned aside for that fraction of a moment?? And isn't that when everything in life usually happens?! Gads! Haha

The dust settles somewhat and I see….all 3 chicas patting, poking, lifting and FLIPing in a syncopated dance of fluff the likes of which has not been seen since the last time I went into a smalltown beerhall bathroom.

This frenzy goes on for 5….4….3….2….then total inertia.

I look around feeling like I had just stepped out of a hypobaric trance. Did that really happen?? Did I just see what I thought I saw? WAS DAT A PUDDY TAT?? I glance over to the car beside me for some kind of an answer, any kind of answer, at the exact same time the driver of that car looks around befuddled and bemused. HA! It did happen! HA! We both crack up, laughing weepily until the light changes and our lives move on....to somewhere a little less absurd.

bug-a-bears

You know what frightens me the most? Not monsters, or the lush effects so common now-a-days. Not Death, nor weapons, wild beasts or brutal assaults….. No….no, my pet fear is madness.

Madness terrifies me, that total mental collapse into spiritual decay.

I have this image in my head, from a movie I saw so long ago. Of a woman, from a pre-civil war, well-to-do family, who loses touch with the commoners one day….

She takes to her hands and knees, crawling the house day in, night out, her black taffeta gown dragging the floor, her perspective halved and lacking.

At moments she seems as sane as you or I, just a peculiarity, this viewpoint from the hip so to say. But then eyes turn inward and she sees something that starts the foray……

The moaning and denials, screeches that reach sub sonic frequencies, to be followed by rushed whispers, the dialogue frantic and centered.

This….this is what I fear most.

Tillery and Chicon - Tres

Our lives never got back to that idyllic beginning. Things had been said, issues raised, faults discovered, addiction re-submitted for perusal. We had made a commitment to each other, through thick and thin, good and bad, failures and successes. We would continue. A routine was settled upon, and our future continued on its fitful way.

In case it wasn't mentioned, we lived across the tracks – you know – the 'bad' side of town. What this meant to me was culture, pure and simple. I love living amongst people with lives and customs that stretch back years, if not centuries. These people are real, have family, have continuity. They can tell you who and when and where – for every member of their extended families. We joined in the neighbourhood comings and goings, the drama and festivities. I was accepted as family. One of our neighbours had a son my lover had grown up with, gone to school with, loved and lost with. They were life-long friends, and the family accepted me into the fold. We were invited to all their gatherings. Now this family entertained in a big way. They had converted their acre lot into one of those old-time compounds. Out-buildings abounded, concrete was poured in lieu of grass, there were barbeque pits big enough to cook half a cow in, an ice house that rivalled any convenience store beer cooler, places set aside to play basketball and volley ball. These people took partying seriously. What everything one would ever need to have major gatherings or intimate get-togethers. They would even hire bands for those really big occasions (or even a small one, no excuse was wasted), and drinking and dancing was enjoyed by all. And of course it was locked up tighter than a military base.

It was on one of these occasions that the next episode enfolded in our life together. We had gathered together at the compound to celebrate who knows what – a birthday? A national holiday? A sporting event? They all qualified for celebration, so forgive me if the details are a bit fuzzy. The drinking went on till the wee hours, and as we lived just a few houses down, we stayed almost to the blurry end. We staggered home and the house was locked up for the night. All the small before-bed rituals were performed. Well, I did them. My lover had passed out cold on the bed as soon as he walked in the door. I finally crawled into bed with him, taking my place next to the wall, as is the place for all good donnas. I looked over at my lover, who was dead to the world. I said my good nights and gave a little peck, even though I knew he was oblivious. I was just drifting off, when he spoke softly, too softly to make out the words. I opened my eyes to look at him, and he was still laid out flat, hadn't moved in fact. I thought maybe it was a dream mutter, so I touched him to get a response, a look, but nothing. This man was not conscious. Then who spoke?

Again, the words, stronger, a little louder…."Juan loves you, you know."

Now why would he be speaking in the third person I wondered? I jokingly asked "well who are you then?" "I am Juan." But it was the way he said it…..one

and not a muscle moved on his body except those lips…those lips I thought I knew so well. But those lips now chilled me to the bone. There was no curvature, no facial quirk, no emotion or acknowledgement that he was speaking to me, me his lover, or that he was even alive. It was if I was viewing one of those fun house machines with the dummy that tells fortunes, a monotone, unmoving plastic. I looked around…yes, there were those green eyes again, glowing from the closet. All the hair on my body stood up on end. I felt threatened as I never had before. This was too close….in my bed? Against my naked body? Would he become animate as well? Would those eyes open and someone else look out at me? Would I be touched by someone else's hands, grabbed, forced to see, him, it….who, what? His body was as pliant as a rag doll, anything could take place…it could be used to do anything. And what would be said? Did I want to hear? I was not ready for this….not so soon after the other.

I slowly crawled out of the bed, along the headboard, standing up against the wall, inching slowly with my breathe as a cover, keeping my eyes on those lips as they spoke, on those eyes that were closed, praying they would not open. I did not want to see who or what would look out at me. Did not want to see the author of those words. I gathered up some belongings and made it out of the bedroom, the voice following me….

"Juan does love you, we all love you. We are glad you have come to this house, because we need you. Have we told you about our brother? He is here with us…would you like to speak to him? Our father is here as well, though he doesn't join in much anymore."

Shit shit shit! I ran to my purse, my keys, barely pulling on the minimum of clothing before heading out the door. I could feel something whipping at me, at my skin, at my hair. My eyes were tearing, glazed in fear, half closed to block out any unwanted images. I drove off, not having a clue where I was heading, what time it was, just this urgent need to put as much distance as I could between myself and this house, this house and its occupants. My lover was on his own, his proximity to such having long since anesthetized him – I hoped. But when fear like this rides you honey, everyone is on their own – sorry.

I drove around the sleeping city, trying to decide what to do, where to go. I ended up clear across town at my parent's, 4:30 in the morning. I quietly let myself in and slept in the cold, lonely spare room. Explained away my unusual behaviour as just a lover's spat. I did not hear from him. For two days, nothing. I finally called, wanting to know if it had all been imagined, a dream I had woken up from too soon, a twisted memory. He was angry – why had I left without telling him anything? No note, no phone call. I tried to jog his memory…remember our conversation? Nothing. I was in the wrong for leaving without word. So I placated and soothed, hoping against hope that it was my wild thoughts that had taken hold of me. I went home, needing to be near my things, my animals, my once-true love. Hesitant yet again to be around this man I had committed myself to.

Tillery and Chicon - Dos

At one point I felt I had finally protected, if not totally cleansed the house of this presence. All doorways, this world or other, were locked and closed. Nothing could enter without my knowing. Safeguards had been posted and armed. I felt I had done all I could to protect myself and mine. I went away for a week, happy and satisfied, ignorant in my bliss. Then I came home….

A visitor had come to call and stay in my absence. Someone from my lover's chequered past. Someone with an aura of violence that clung to him like black and red oil. Someone my lover was terrified of. Someone who looked out at the world with dead, black eyes. Who rarely spoke, who didn't even seem to recognize the presence of any other being on this planet. It seems my safeguards had failed me. And then all hell broke out….

Do you know what's it like to have your home, your work, your love usurped? By a dead man? Do you know? Can you understand? I bitterly complained to my lover, about his mindless submission to this thing, about our life that was slipping away, about the disgusting state of affairs. About the rediscovered addictions. But his mind and soul were focused rigidly on the rail. Nothing could stir his intent. It was as if I did not exist in that house. Everything was geared towards pleasing this wraith. Every decision my lover made had to be Okayed by HIM. I was left alone, left to watch from the outside as my home and the life I had built was taken from me, minute by miserable minute.

Until one day I had had enough. I came upon my lover kow-towing to this beast, while he sat in a chair in OUR bedroom, his arms crossed, like a pasha. I confronted this demon, confronted him in front of my weakened soul mate. Battled with him for my love. The elements joined in this battle, as they always do. The wind howled, trees brushed and knocked up against the house, the windows. Sirens screeched. People shouting up and down the street. Clouds covered the sun and animals ran. When my anger is up, woe is unto thee that has stirred it. My lover was in terror, for me, for us; of me, of him. "Do not berate him!! Do not make him angry!" Fuck that, he has crossed my line and I will not, I repeat, will not allow this campaign to continue. And the demon sat there, saying nothing, those dead eyes looking into me, through me. I ranted and raged, spit and pointed for almost 30 minutes. My fur was arisen, the hackles were up. I screamed at him every injustice his presence had wrought, of how he had made my lover into a spineless fuck. And damnit! That was my job - who the fuck did he think he was? And oh wait; do I even want this fool you created?! On and on I went, amazing myself at my audacity, thrilling at the venting of all this pent up venom. The Fury was loose and in full glory… He didn't move a muscle, not so much as a twitch. His dead eyes looked out, not seeing, not seeming to care that this mad woman with wild hair was within an inch of striking him dead. But finally at one point he actually turned his head and looked AT me. And that is when I asked him….in a soft voice…"wouldn't you fight, kill, destroy, face the fires of hell, die….for you and yours?" And he spoke, his only utterance during this whole encounter…..

'Yes….'

Then he walked out of the room, out of the house and disappeared from our lives.

Tillery and Chicon - Uno

It was an innocuous little house, almost picture perfect in its charm. A long rectangular building, with pale yellow paint that glowed when the sunlight filtered through the tall cottonwoods and elder pecan trees. It was built during the 40's on an old, tree lined lived-in-by-families neighbourhood. The outside of the house and surrounding property had aged gracefully over the years, with quaint little flowerbeds lined by long, wide sidewalks.

It sat on the strangest shaped lot I had ever seen. The house proper sat on a squarish plot, but then it tapered to this long point towards the east, like a spear aimed at the rising sun. At that point was on a crossroad. Well, the street changed names when you went around that sharp corner. I'm not sure what the founding fathers' intent was. The angle was so severe that cars had to move very slowly into the turn, and drivers had to wait at each side of the lot for on-coming cars to finish their journey.

The angles were tight, the path was bottlenecked and the light was speared.

The house sat directly across the street from a police substation and a half-way house for South American refugees. 'Nice….' Oh well, I could live with a lot of things, if motivated.

The house was a two bedroom, one bathroom setup. I had seen the same floor plan in many older houses - high ceilings, big old country kitchen and living room on one end and the bedrooms on the other. A long, dark hall leading from the kitchen to the bedroom wing, the bathroom in the middle and a closet at the end. The inside was dilapidated - dingy grey and brown stained walls, filthy yellowed windows, and dirt piled up in every corner. But it had longed-for hardwood floors, and all the odd little eccentricities of an older house. I've always had a soft spot for old houses, so I was excited about moving into this one. A little paint, some TLC, and it should be more than habitable. I was starting a new life, moving in with a man I loved. What more could one ask for? He had inherited the house from his father. And in the months prior to the move I had heard a lot about this house. How and when it was built, of his father's love of it, of his pride in all the developments over the years. So I felt I already knew this place, had become intimate, become old friends.

The house had a little something extra – his father had built on a strange addition onto the north east side and had left the floors as dirt. The room was sunk into the ground, and when looked at from the outside, resembled a bunker or a hobbit's dwelling. And nothing would stay clean in this room for long, the brown earth and dust settling on every surface, clinging to your clothes and hair when you walked through. It had a door that you entered by walking out the backdoor of the house and crossing the porch, and one window which faced east. Lots of nooks and crannies, shelves and corners. I was drawn to this room almost from the start. I would go there by myself almost daily and look out the window and weep from the bottom of my soul, not understanding why. I would take to wandering the dirt floors, not exactly pacing, but moving, aimlessly, from corner to corner, as if looking for a something I didn't know I was missing. I felt a presence, not malignant but aware. I believe it was his father, ruing his life and his choices. For he had lived life large, hurting many people in his neglect. And he paid for it in the end because all those he thought loved him had drifted away. And in the days and months to come, this room became my sanctuary. I ran to the father for protection, for camaraderie, not knowing if he even saw me in his self centred misery.

I set to work making the place a home, ours. I even put in new gardens, enriching the love-starved earth with compost, my sweat and my love. I spent a lot of time out there on that point. I could feel an entity out there, just beneath the soil. An ancient being that rose up to meet the sun on certain eolian occasions. Hopefully he would not stir in the near future, for I felt it would tear us all asunder when he ripped himself from the earth.

The bedroom on the southeast corner was not used. My lover said it was his parent's room, the bridal chamber for the couple when the whole family lived there, so he didn't feel comfortable sleeping in it. We moved into the southwest bedroom and made do, even though the other was of a grander size. I went about making it ours; you know the spiel – bedspreads, curtains, knick knacks. But the closet in that room……… in the middle of the night I could feel something stir the breeze, hear a disjointed breath. If I opened my eyes and looked up, I swear I could see eyes..... glowing green eyes.... up in the top left-hand corner.... on the shelf. I asked him about the house then – who had lived there, what had transpired. He told me about the anger, the family violence, the neighbourhood gang fights. About one of his brothers shooting him in the stomach during a family quarrel. And how the second brother, who had slept in our room, had been the youngest person in the city to be convicted of murder and sent off to prison with the men. Of how this brother felt he was possessed by evil spirits and that he eventually killed himself after his release.

Now I don't think those eyes belonged to this long deceased brother, but I did feel his presence – a howling from the depths of hell, not for release but for notice. For recognition, for acceptance of all his foibles and choices, and of his need for it to be known that it was not him that committed those acts, but that someone else's hands had guided his. That he took responsibility for the other's power on him. That he felt he deserved the torment he then and now suffered. How can this be? A ghost in the depths of depression….

No, those eyes belonged to some other creature. Not a demon per se, more like an ancient maligner. Perhaps from the time of the sun worshiper. So I began the process of cleansing. Prayers were spoken. Amulets created, hung and worn. Herbs planted for protection. Symbols etched into earth, wood, paint and trees. The sun and moon were my accomplices. I burned sage daily, hung witches balls near all the entrances, placed mythical statues at cross-hairs. I even spoke with my lover's mother about the house. She said she had felt the angry malignancy when she lived there. That it had driven her out and killed her love. She had been practicing cleansing rites for many years as a result, searching for the ones that would work, would heal. Using old Indian magic, the church's crutches….. anything. For she felt her family had become tainted as a result of living on that patch of earth. I still felt it had something to do with the spear pointed at the rising sun….

Lizard in the terrarium

Dream 041313 Lizard in the terrarium Woke up at 4:30-ish. Time to take the dogs out, feed them, start a load of laundry, read a bit and take a nap. :P And instantly it began. It was so seamless that I couldn’t tell I had actually dreamed until I woke up at 6:00 with the images fading from my mind’s eye. I walk through the kitchen constantly, back and forth, each time giving a nod to my home’s hearth and altar. I was cleaning up a bit, dishes and such, and had a little water in a bottle to get rid of. I walked over to the altar and twisted the lid on a large jar to pour water over the plants inside. These jars are the type used to store elbow macaroni decoratively on a kitchen counter. And in real life no such jar exists on my altar or anywhere else in my home. But like I said, the dream was seamless and I didn’t take note. I twisted the lid back on, and that’s when I noticed movement in the jar. What in the world? I thought this was a basic terrarium? What… “What” was a good sized gecko, thick as my thumb. About 6 inches long. How did it manage to get in there? And thrive? There is no food source. That’s when I noticed the second stirring amongst the flora. But this one was different. I saw the fat gecko tail, turning and crawling along the gravel. But something else was attached to it. It wasn’t a gecko! Another creature grew out of a discarded lizard tail wtf? It was smaller, more colorful. And it was struggling to emerge from that tail. Interesting… Next came an hour and a half of wonderment, exploration, travel, magicians (real wizards!), the cops (??), a camaraderie with a band of gypsies (I do love me some gypsy), then dawn and worrying if the lizards were ok. After I woke up I rummaged around in my esoteric book collection for my primer on animals. Found it and flipped pages to lizard – here you be. It seems lizards represent dreams. I dream about a dream hmmm And it made reference to dreaming to manifest. Now the question is…do I really want wizards running willy nilly through my life? Might prove interesting haha.

the cha-moirs-6

The unit was transferred in it’s entirety to the domicile of the pack, the snake eater in his component, his posse close to hand. The visitations did in deed cease, much to the chagrin of tech personnel in the cartel. Unable to continue their experiments with chemical and harnass, they drifted offward to other bunkers, there to hone their interrogative skills farther and wider afield.

Life resembled some sort of normalcy, at least the neighbors noticed nothing askew. Another module was accumulated, and settlement was reached. But it just had to be too good….one can never accept too good. A battle was brewing tween this stalker and the snake eater. A struggle for powers budding and thought lax. The posse and it’s division were rarely round, and those in the pod were themselves and giddy. So when he did breeze through, it was likened to a violent storm with vivid sparks being seen flashed off the horizon. He felt the flyer should have the ground cut from beneath, cast adrift with humanity, powerless.

A comment, an observation really, was made in innocence.

~Where did so-and-so go? I saw them last week, but I’ve since been told they are no longer here….where did they go?

Well, this was just the opportuinity the snake eater was waiting to pounce with, to ravage and eviscerate the super hero.

~They have died

~What is died?

~They are dead

~What is this dead, explain?

~They cease to exist

~What do you mean, they cease?

~Their bodies fall, rot, to be eaten….there is nothing left to mark their place

~Why did this befall them? What did they do to deserve?

~It happens to everyone

..........No......….it does not….......not I

~YES

~EVERYONE

~DIES and ROTS

~Even YOU

The scream was heard throughout the compound, high and long….oh so long. The medics were called, those luscious drugs administered once again, the body lashed and numb….but the soul did not stop it’s wail. It echoed and battered into and surround the internal walls of every living organism….I can not fulfill my destiny….there is not enough time….i have failed you all.

The goddess in training imploded that day, never to recover, never to fully inhabit her realm again. For what is the point? There is just not enough time……

the cha-moirs, 5

So at the tender age of 7, my pod was moved to michigan. by this time it had been expanded to 4 modules, a little whelp joining us during the fall of the sightings. The environment was similar to germany, with groves of olden wood, the desired mold and leaf litter, trails that led off to private nooks, but with an added bonus……we moved within running of a lake. and oh, what a body of water…..you could barely see to the other side. and it was deep…..and cold…..and haunted.

and so it began….the nightly visits by insectoidal creatures half the size of a small car, communal and red, with pointed claws that grubbed and tore. hauling this soul off, pushing it out to wander the void alone so that the shell could be occupied by others….others who spoke in long dead languages, rants and accusations ringing out, the pacing and draggage of flesh, patterns worn into carpet in ever increasing coils, causing havoc and terror in the small, crowded abode. then came the restraints, the medication….the futility.

Even the whelp began to wander, and each morning a hunt was launched down that long desolate stretch of beach punctuated by tossed debris, as if there had been a battle with the night. It would be found paused and dazed in a lea of a half-submerged trunk, unclothed, mute and forever blank in the watery dawn's light. the snake eater admitted defeat in this battle with the elementals and the decision was made to move.

the cha-moirs, 4

Then one day, the pseudo mother bundled me up and stuffed me into the air-tight rolling can. It was early in the day, very early. I did not like going away from my surroundings before the sun And then to be taken to a square, boring building, so noisy, so full of….what were these things? They looked like me. But they came in all different colors and sizes. And what?! What were these?! What were these….interesting….they.…hmmm. Anyways, we were all herded into these rooms, arms and legs smacked and jumbling. Forced to sit still in these pre-formed chairs, with arms and tables, so easily trapped, bound by coats and bag. Oh…oh. The day grew older, my spirit crying out to be spared.

Then suddenly….freedom! They took us out-of-doors. And there! My woods! A mad dash between out-stretched arms and shouts to stop……then the welcome cool foliage. I dove deep till I no longer heard them, those alien beings who made my senses ache. I scouted, and yes! These were my woods, the familiar paths, though far afield from my usual ramblings. And I recognized landmarks, that twisted knot there, the little brown pile of organic matter under branches bent. Yes yes, this was my home. I wallowed in my comfort, tossing leaf and mold high, giggling with relief. Ahhhhh

So now was time to study…. I crept to the edge of the woods, my position camouflaged, my intent indiscernible. I needed to study these entities. These creatures so like myself, yet….the feelings I got were similar to those I felt when tracking the pairs. Funny feelings, in my hair and toes.

These creatures must be dissected. Exactly what and who were they? Why did they make me feel this way? I will sit here, quietly under the compost, like one of my precious wolf spiders. Alert....trap lain....patient. Till finally, one gets too close to my pre-arranged stones and twigs….and YES! Success! It is down, tumbled, shocked and crying, afraid of my unknown. YES! Hahaha

It squirms, I feel…..oh....this is delicious. What are you little toy? Should I bite or lick? Tear your limbs, or just your coverings asunder? Oh oh, this may be worthwhile after all, this bundling-off to a building full of delights before the daybreak. Yes yes….

That fall, there was a haunting in the woods. The adults quaked, the mini-mes mewed. The men in black boots rummaged the parameters. But never was the phantom discovered. It struck without warning, dragging children....well….the wee men-folk....into the dark, wickt wood. Unspeakable things were performed under those tall trunk-ed branches. Unspeakable and unnamed. Never was the attacker deciphered, its face a merge of browns and lichen. But, what was done under those piles of autumn refuse….would dwell with those lads to this very day.

the cha-moirs, 3

yes, the rattlesnake eater was a harsh man…..he did not deserve family. that one is entitled to his own story…..but like I said, scars
he caused me many years of counseling, not because of what he had done to me and mine, though that in itself would be sufficient. no, it was because I saw in myself from an early age, his likeness. how can yu hate yourself as much as yu hate another, through no fault of yur own? aww well, all better now!
So where were we…..ahh yes, germany

this place, oh this place was filled to the brim with backwater portals. yu could slip into and out of 'normal' existence, confounding the minders in charge of yur person. an adjustment in the view, and voila! across the block in a blink. we lived in an older part of a village, still looked as it did pre-WWII if yu can believe. I used to roam….im surprised I was not kidnapped, stolen or worse, all the places I explored that I shouldn't have. but my knack for opening those 'doors' came in handy many a time.

and the woods called me……old growth forest. oh the smells. I used to bury myself in the leaf litter at the base of trees, my eyes the only indication that anything existed in that space. watching the inhabitants. animals used to walk right over me and never knew I was there.

and something else strange was witnessed. I used to see humans in those woods, and I would stalk them with glee. they sometimes walked aimless, sometimes with purpose down ruts in the leaf mold. sometimes in pairs….those were the ones to watch, creeping under bush and vine. deeper into the unknown....they always drew me deeper……sighs……grunts……gasps. sometimes I was able to grasp a little hint of movement, but they were blendt into the flora as well as I was, so the sounds had to suffice. quite a discovery for a 5 year old……but then, i already had scars from the rattlesnake eater

the memories….i must wallow, scuse

ta

the cha-moirs, 2

oh good, thought I had scared yu off….
im used to it, my parents having been hounding me since I can remember to hide the usage of my super powers from the neighbors. As to my planet of origin? Why, its that egg-laying eye-beam shooting planet over in the western quadrant of the sky, the one that blinks out, red and blue?

Anyways, as I was recollecting…..my parents never appreciated my powers, nor did they believe in the existence of my nanny. I would escape from the tucking each night and run screaming across the hall (for I slept in the kitchen on a blanket on the floor yu see) and hide under their bed, babbling about IT being immune to my powers. My dad, being one of those covert thingies who jet all over the world and hide in the bush eating rattlesnake, brought in his posse to scan the premises for wormholes, but alas, none were ever found. From whence did the bulb-head come? Was it a long-lost relative? My real momma?! If so, thank god for the physicality of this place, that thing was UGLY!

So yes, we are now in another country in the telling of this story. My dad, the rattlesnake eater and I were forever locking eye-beams. The conflicts escalated into all-out warfare many a time. He had this saying…..this is my house, my rules, if yu don't like them, leave. Well, since the age of 5 ive been trying to!! I would take off walking, be gone for hours. they would have to send the militia out for me. And when I was captured, as I envariably was everytime (since the facility was encased by barbed wire damn it….too young to carry bolt cutters) i would be brought before the rattlesnake eater for punishment. He would tell me, in front of his posse, that I should have taken my things, cause once I leave it has to be for good. Yet when we'd make it home, the pseudo-mother would shush him, bundle me off and all would be quiet till the next battle.

more when ive quenched my thirst……

ta

the cha-moirs, 1

My story uh? Well, let me start with my first recollection…..i was in a room full of giants with loud, raucous voices. I was swaddled very tightly in some type of material, so I couldn't harm anyone, and was being passed around.

Next memory, turds in the tub!

Ok, fast forward 1 year…..i was sitting on the curb and this little fox-headed girl came walking by, asked me if I wanted to learn about universal law. Well of course I said yes, and we promptly walked away from the house. She told me oh so many things, some I already knew, some she couldn't stress enough as being important in the scheme of things. My family wasn't too concerned, they allotted time each evening to hunt me down in the neighborhood….

Next scene, age 5. we were in germany.
Now, some people claim that they are nothing like their families and were probably adopted. Or left by fairies – a changeling. I on the otherhand was transported to this planet in an egg, to be hatched and placed in my mother's hospital bed on the day of that other girl's birth. I know not where or what became of her…. I am not human, nor fairyfolk…..i am a super hero! I am serious! I spent my nights flying round the universe slaying bad monsters with the beams that radiated from my eyes! And each evening, my nanny, a bulbous-headed hideous creature with stalks for fingers would come tuck me in, as tightly as possible, so as not to harm the natives….
All this recollecting is wearing me out……sorry
Will talk soon
ta

the stratum haunt

Current mood:can anyone spare some bread crumbs?
So I was standing still at 67 miles per hour again the other day, and I came across a tableau that was astonishing in its aftermath, though the moment seemed but a transit stroke. The second the scenes unfolded, each in their sequential pomp, the awe factor ratcheted up notch over notch till I was flabbergasted and wanting so to return to the act of the "crime".

Layer one….Red lights flashing in the distance, not unusual for a busy weekend by-way. Came up on brand new dooley pulled off to the side of the road, big and red with tinted and viewless windows and driver. A muddy brown sedan with hidden lights flashing in the back seat behind. Once you were up on the duo the lights faded in and out with strobic intensity….they are there….they are elsewhere….

Layer two….A man, in civilian clothes, walking from the sedan. Nice clothes, middle age, out of shape. But the odd factor was that if a vehicle is being pulled over by any law enforcement, the officer would be cautiously approaching the offending vehicle, weapon drawn and at the ready. Yet this man was sauntering through the roadside grasses like he was on his way to Sunday church services.

Now if this wasn't enough……on the other side of the road, almost directly opposite of this "crime"….

Layer three….at first glance I thought it was an elemental, a groundling deva type pacing the setting sun, waiting for its proper time. This "man", nut brown, with dirt so ingrained and skin so oakish as to appear black, yet with those piercing light eyes….
His clothing was an odd mish-match of extremely well-worn denim and torn-up, not-oft washed plaids. His boots were at least a half inch thick cowhide, gnarled and twisted to exactly fit his pristine feet. His hat, a twisted heap of fiber, molded by sweat and sun, to only vaguely resemble a sun bonnet. Thick of chest, a man who worked and fed every muscle, not just paid homage in a mirror. But the clincher, the item that made me realize I was not witnessing a modern day man walking along the road as if on an errand, were his chaps.

They were not the common full-leg, up-to-the waist kind. No, these went only up as far as the knee – thick unbending leather bells. Snake charmer chaps we call them here. Now, we have our share of local rodeo groups, but this was no sideshow-rodeo-cowboy-clown. This was a throwback to those days gone by of the cross-world cattle drives. And where would this creature, if "cowboy" he truly was, be coming from? We were on the side of the road, no ranches or developments or homes anywhere for at least a mile either way……

He was directly across from the officer and his offender. He looked at the scene as if to say "yea, I see it, I seen it before, it's just a late evening heat mirage. It will disappear as always when the sun sets down. But in the meantime I'm gonna take notes".

Highway 130 is cutting across old highways and back roads that were once trails between ranches and markets, auction and slaughter houses, and railroads and big cities up north and east. I think things other than the dust are being disturbed. And I truly think this is why my perspective is being so distorted….one of these days I won't just be driving by one of those portals, I'm going to drive 'through'……

The Blue Man

Woke up from the “dream” about 11:00 pm – had only been asleep about 2 hours.

And so it began… It was nighttime and two men were walking towards a large gated compound. They were arguing – the smaller man did not trust the people they were going to meet. The older gentleman was carrying a satchel, slung over his shoulder, with a large amount of money. They were afraid of being double-crossed and killed. I came up from behind and went through the gate with them. The guards were very lax and waved us all through. The men were expecting a bullet through the back at any moment. It was easy to pick up on that anxiety. But no one came to meet them, nor did anyone speak with them. We wandered around the courtyard. It had a tropical feel. Mexico, South America, an oasis in the Middle East? In the center of the courtyard was a stone outbuilding with a locked door and bars on the one window. The men walked towards this small hut with me trailing. They couldn’t believe they had found him so soon.

We came to the window and inside sat the figure of a man covered in a gossamer veil. You could barely see his features through the gauze. The small man walked up to the bars and said, “You are not Him, you can’t be. He wouldn’t let himself be in a situation like this.” The man in the cell called the small man by name, and began to tell him things about his life and his innermost thoughts. I was standing directly behind the small man, who by this time had his forehead resting on the bars in submission and surrender. The veiled man’s eyes lifted to mine and he began to laugh maniacally, as if his circumstances had finally allowed him to breach that fine point of sanity.

A buzzing began that became louder and louder and very irritating. As the sound approached we could also hear a loud booming voice of a man. He was talking about himself as if he were the savior of the world. The two men with me began to panic. They implored the man in the cell to escape – he had the power. But the man in the cell lifted up his right arm, which was a bloody stump with protruding bones, and said he was powerless, laughing even harder, finally losing touch with this world.

I began to panic now. This loud man approaching us must not see or sense me. I ran to the back of the small building and ducked through a doorway into a room of the main house. As I inched towards the doorway, a blue glow began to fill the courtyard. The buzzing became even louder. Looking around the room one could see it was filled with bodies of couples having frenzied sex. Out the doorway I saw the man’s entourage walking towards the cell. The people with him were all in a trance, either walking in his wake or falling to the wayside. He was calling out to the man imprisoned, taunting him to “Save” everyone. He went into great detail about what he was going to do with him. I caught a quick glimpse of the “blue-glow” man – average height, shoulder-length brown hair, wearing what looked like knee-length satin pants and white stockings.

There was an urgent need to get out of there before he saw me or even felt my presence. I raced towards the back of the house, looking for a door or window to escape through. What I found was a man in a bathtub who seemed to be embracing the air, but I pulled back before he noticed me. As I turned to race to another room, I bumped into several small bodies – children! They were in a panic, and recognizing me as the only cognitive individual on the premises, looked to me for rescue.

There was a commotion in the courtyard – the caged man was being removed from his cell, and the two men I came with were screaming. There was no escape from the enclave. So seeing a jug of water on a chest of drawers, I grabbed it to absorb any stray energies and ushered the children into the back of a closet. I felt whatever was happening was the culmination of something ongoing and that soon the premises would be emptied as this “blue-glow” man and his people went forth to wreak the havoc they had planned.

At this point I woke up, heart pounding, in abject terror. I lay in bed for about 10 minutes, listening for the buzz. When I felt safe enough I got out of bed. But for some reason I felt the need for complete silence. I tiptoed to the kitchen to light some incense and crawled back into bed – never making a sound. Then I began to analyze this vision.

I felt that I knew this story. Had I read a book recently or seen it on TV? Maybe I had been astral traveling, because no one in the “dream” noticed me. Except for the man in the cage. Would the “blue-glow” man have been able to sense me, too? Were both other-worldly travelers? And what about the children…could they see me because of their innocence?

My first impression was that the man in the cell was Jesus and that the “blue-glow” man was Satan. But the more I reviewed, the more I felt that perhaps the man in the cell may be some type of a present-day prophet, but that the “blue-glow” man was alien in nature. Perhaps the man in the cell and the frenzied bystanders were being poisoned by radiation from the blue light. But I did not, under any circumstances, want the “blue-glow” man to know of my presence on this plane.

I was going to say prayers of protection, but realized that there would be no point – the Jesus of the Christian religion obviously could not help me. And what could prayers do to save me from an alien? Then I thought to put a bubble of white light around me and mine, but did not want to shine and call attention to my presence. So I pulled the veil of the night around us all to hide.

I thought about this vision for days. The more I reflected, the more I felt this event most likely took place in another time – perhaps within the last 100 years? And if so, what were the consequences of the “blue-glow” man’s campaign? Do we feel them even to this day? Is this the reason the world is in its current demise?

Another concern that came to mind in the days following this “dream” was what was I to do for protection? It really hit home that our Christian and pagan beliefs would not do for evil of a real and alien nature. I asked for guidance and the thought came to me that I needed to adopt protection of a sort that complied with the laws of physics. This protection would take a different tact for each person. I tested this theory with friends. I instructed them to ask for guidance. What physical law and its properties would better suit?

My answer came to me in the form of sound – a specific series of notes. I’ve always used this method but did not realize its ramifications. One friend was told to visualize a “wall” of glass blocks. Yet another was told to use the cellular glue between cells – this energy is readily available from other humans, animals, plants and other forms of life. We each of us practiced what we learned and life settled itself.

But even though many years have passed, when my mind wanders to thought, I hear that buzz and wonder if what I thought was a dream has come back to haunt…

Woesome tales of doggydom 4

Now we come to the end of this pack. Continuing my penchant for wandering bits of fur….i spied an orange ball with feet one day. He was in the yard, he was on the road, in the…out…in…how the hell?! And the strangest markings I've ever seen. He's orange, with orange eyes (yikes!) and blonde (yes blonde, yellow wheat colored hairs) eyebrows, ear interiors, and mutton chops. Hence the teutonic name….Ott (I was gonna call him Sigmund but restrained myself hehe). He's got soft short but flowing hair on his body, but wirey face hair (mutton chops I'm saying). A long full body and shortish legs, not exactly dwarven, but you would never mistake him for a greyhound ha! Even the vet is scratching her head. For this one I'd pay to have that doggie DNA test done, just to see what breed made up this Frankenstein pooch.

He wandered about the neighborhood, back and forth across the street and yards for a few months, me attaching chicken wire to the fence day after day in hopes of keeping him in….or OUT I didn't care damnit! But Mr. Hairy Houdini would not be thwarted. I live near a busy ranch road, speed limit 100 knots (or so they would have you believe), so I was fearful of squoooshed poopie every day. But he would not be deterred, no siree!

So after much soul searching (and feeding of cookies) I decided to get him fixed. If nothing else he might gain weight and not be able to squeeze through the 4 inch X 8 inch fence spacing. This dog weighs 68 pounds and is just as big in the body as the other dogs, though his legs are a bit challenged. But he can squeeze….omg i'm just in awe nothing has been detached haha.

woesome tales of doggydom 3

Let me introduce you to the third member of my pack – Tuuli - he was named after the wind. This boy is FAST I tell you what! It takes him about half an acre to hit his stride, but after that you won't see a thing....but you will feel a breeze and wonder….

We found the Tuu between the gates on one of the coldest mornings of the year, hiding under my truck. Someone, some BUBBA (that term is derogatory in my book) had thrown him over the front gate like so much trash. Someone who did not appreciate this little man….

Tuu-wala is some type of an Australian shepherd, a herder…..why do I collect herders? It's not like I have a pasture of sheep?! Rabbits anyone!?!?
Anyway, he is such a good dog, even if he is a bit of a brown-noser hehe. He's my little aide-de-camp. He doesn't play with the other dogs (you have GOT to be kidding, I am not a dog like those other plebes!), but stands by my side at all times, ready to take my orders and dispatch them to the troops. He watches the others frolic and make fools of themselves. And when they are out of line he runs over to marshal and discipline (all on mother's orders don'tya know, even if unspoken, I-ME knows what she wants at all times). I never noticed he had progressed to alpha till someone told me to ask the alpha to help me with something, and when I mentioned Dexter they laughed uproariously. HEY! Don't diss the Dex! But they were right….could it be the fact he's the only one with balls? haha

And it was odd, the first two….they tried to kill…I had never seen such animosity from my babies! They chased him down for hours. But one good thing (in their eyes, I'm not having any of it!) to come out of the whole experience….conga pee lines! OMG, he starts and they all follow - - my poor bushes haha. He is so adamant to be the first to pee, that I've caught him peeing on the other dogs when they pee out of line!

Urine….a man's answer for anything.

Tuu is a strange one. I don't know if it was the way he was raised or his breed, but this little guy could live out of a truck. He LOVES to ride, the only one of my pack that does, so he gets to go on lots of trips and receives many many treats (ice cream cones!). If I don't take him for a ride (the duration can be of any length, he doesn't care) at least once a week he will stomp his feet and grab me, any part he can reach, and shake me - - - bad mama! He's gotten trapped between the fence and whatever cause he's trying to follow the truck down the road. Silly boy.

Now for a tuutuuTuuli story - -

Every day when I come home from work, he barks (I, me, my feelings get hurt so I call it yelling hehe), all the way to the house. As if to say "Come on Mom! I want my dinner, hurry hurry Andale!". Well one day I guess I wasn't moving fast enough. You know, I like to pause and appreciate my gardens etc. Well, he grabbed my sleeve and started tugging all the way to the house.
I couldn't help myself….I asked him "What is it Lassie? Is someone in trouble?" hahaha

woesome tales of doggydom 2

So then everyone starting telling me "you need to get Dexter a friend". HUH?! WHA?! One dog is none too many!! Now you're gonna kidnap another?! nonono But the next…the next….well let's just say he came to visit and I locked him in, hehe.

Cholla….Cholla Teddy Bear to be exact.
I named him after a type of cactus that breaks off into segments and catches rides on passer-bys. This little boy wandered by one day and I decided to plant him, then put a tomato cage around him, ha. I know he belonged to the neighbors across the road, but he was always over at my place. Dexter had enticed him with promises of cookies……"if you kiss her hand and bump her in the legs she'll yell at you then give you a cookie. Do it, DOIT!"

Yeppers, leg bumping by a herding dog, nothing better. I tried to give the neighbors one last chance to save me. I caught them driving by one day while I was checking the mail and yelled ~is this your dog? To which she replied, while never taking her foot off the gas "oh yea, go home pepper".

Pepper? wtf….PEPPER?! You DO NOT deserve this dog if you're imagination is that stunted….PEPPER?! ACK!

So Chollo-mio came to stay at casa ChaCha, may god bless his piebald soul.

I want to talk to you people about the hardest head known to Christendom. If the army had my secret weapon all enemies would lay dead in the dust. He has this habit of swinging it up when I'm bending over to hug him….I have been knocked to the ground cold on occasion, hehe. And to further illustrate….I walk around the property with a hammer all the time (you NEVER know when you need to hit something) and my arms aswinging, Cholla's trying to herd me to the porch and farther to the cool indoors…..and WHAM BAM CLUNK. I'm freaking, thinking I've caved his skull in, whip around and he's just standing there. "Why'd we stop mom?" yep….secret weapon. Can you tell he's an Aries?

And there has never been any alpha juggling with Cholla in the house. This boy is long, tall and sneaky. He sits back, not exerting anything that would cause a pant, letting Dexter whine and jump, wearing himself out doing tricks and such, then in saunters Cholla (and I mean saaaaaauuuuuunter, like a lazy old lion) to take whatever, hehe. He's a pig herder you understand….and Dexter has that plump well-fed look of the classic cookie monster.

woesome tales of doggydom

I was regaling someone today with woesome tales of my awful willful children, and they said I just had to write this shit down……so here it is in all it's goriness.

I have four boys. You may have seen their pictures in my album. Don't let those angelic looking-at-something-else-to-distract-mom pictures fool you. I know all their tricks…well, at least the ones they've shown me, hehe. I weep and rail, shout and threaten every day of their lives, but do they listen to me??!?~ hell no, it's "yea yea yea mom, where's the cookies". I am so abused~~~whines (please note….look below…I AM not).

I guess I need to introduce them so you can know who I'm telling tales on.

NUMERO UNO!
Dexter
Well, he thinks he's number one. You see, he and I have had that battle since day one. And being a Gemini he thinks he who whines the loudest wins. Well let me tell you something baby boy……he who has the cookies wins! muhahahaha.

You know, I didn't start my life as a dog person. I was most happy bowing down to the felines in my life. Their lordliness was more in keeping with my behind-the-throne machinations. But dogs….in your face, on your grass, lets-wipe-our-mouths-on-your-clothes-when-you-hug-us tricksters. What the fuck was I thinking?!

I bought some land a few years ago, and was immediately told "you must have a dog!"

Well golly-gee, won't my attack cats do the job? I mean, who could possibly withstand the pampered claws of death?

So I put it off, always coming up with an excuse ~~I need to buy a dog house~~ I need to find a spot for a dog bowl~~ I need to move to another state……

Then one day it came, that dreaded phone call…."I found a dog on the side of the road, starving, flea-bitten, scared to death, I'm bringing it over"…..oh god forbid! So he came into my house and was ushered into the bathroom for a bath (those pesky fleas ya know) before I could register it all . And I'm rubbing this half grown puppy, he's whining (Gemini…), not feeling a single bone….only discovered one lone flea in the tub....
I've been had!!!

Where did you get this dog?!
"Oh! We found it walking down the street in this neighborhood".
You kidnapped someone's dog?!?!
"But you need one~~whines" (please note, another Gemini)
~~sigh sigh sigh

So Dexter, that self proclaimed genius of the underground laboratory came to live in ChaCha land. WOE unto me and my kitties. I shall save all my Dexter stories for when I can remember them, hehe. But I shall keep all abreast of continuing developments in the struggle for Alphadom!