The End

Dec. 31st, 2015 08:44 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Darth Geek)

And so we have arrived at the threshold of yet another year, four cycles after the long hoped for Alpaca Lips.  In some ways, it has been an eventful year and, in others, things have barely changed.  I figured I'd touch on the highlights of 2015, then throw some hopes (gasp, hope?  Tin?  NOOOOOO!) out for 2016.  So, let's begin.

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The first major thing that happened in 2015 came in February, when I was allowed unprecedented liberties to continue and expand my campaign to disseminate All Things Shriekback.  I was elated, for I had watched for too long their greatness be swallowed up by the ever-expanding Internet, without the proper tools in my box of toys to make enough digital noise to be noticed.  That changed prior to the release of one of their best albums to date, Without Real String or Fish.  To my immense joy, this was only one of many releases by the band that I got to relentlessly plug throughout the year.  It's been an honour to do what I could for the guys, and I will continue to do what I do until they tell me to stop!

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In April, another wonderful thing occurred:  I got to go up to Los Angeles to attend Jeff Lynne's Hollywood Walk of Fame star ceremony.  Even though I didn't get to meet him - again! - I was still thrilled to be in the general vicinity of my spiritual and musical godfather, and listen to him talk a little about his career and how honoured he felt to be getting the praise and attention that has long been due the man.  He's a genius, and I am overjoyed that people are finally catching on to this fact.  It also heartens me that so many Millennials, particularly in the music world, are embracing Mr. Lynne and his music.  That means that his legacy will live on through the generations, as long as humanity plagues this world.  It almost makes me glad we're all still around.  Anyway, also in attendance to the star ceremony, making speeches of their own about how groovy Jeff Lynne is, were Tom Petty and Joe Walsh.  I caught this epic photo before the brouhaha began.   

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And it got even better later in the year, in November, when Jeff Lynne released Alone in the Universe, the first official ELO album since the release of Zoom in 2001.  I'm currently listening to it for the first time but, hey! better late than never, right?  2015 was the year both Shriekback and the Electric Light Orchestra gave the world new music.  If for no other reason, this year should be marked as a complete success because of this.

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Shortly before I moved out to San Diego, my TV died.  For a while, I was pretty miserable, until I got used to watching streaming formats online, like Netflix.  It cut down on my viewing habits considerably, and I found myself focusing on just the movies and shows I personally found important and worthy enough to spend my time watching.  Beginning in late 2014, though, my number one go-to place for instant entertainment gratification became You Tube.  I discovered Alonzo LeroneGarret John, and a host of other talents, visionaries, and creatives.  In June of 2015, though, I stumbled upon a short film that completely blew my mind. It's what made me realise how grateful I am to no longer have a television. I probably would have never discovered such brilliance had I still been enslaved to the mediocrity that spews out of the boob tube.

When I first saw The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Inefficient Weapon, I had a reaction eerily similar to what I had upon seeing The Joker Blogs' Therapy Begins.  I couldn't get enough!  Impressed didn't even begin to cover it.  The more I watched it and the related films on Richard Gale's You Tube channel, the more I laughed.  As anyone who has known me since losing Aunt Tudi in 2011 knows, laughter is something I treasure above all other things.  I credit anything that could cut through the grief and trigger laughter as holding a seed of the miraculous within its heart.  The Impractical Jokers were the first to make what I thought was impossible happen.  The Horrible Slow Murderer carried on that life-saving tradition.  

I was so impressed with the undeniable talent in this short film and others on the channel, like the wholly unfunny and horrifying Criticized, I was compelled to learn more about the film maker and his posse.  Employing the web search skills I learned in the Pit oh so very long ago, it didn't take me long to learn a good bit about the director and actors Paul Clemens and Brian Rohan.  

Well, one thing led to another, and I ended up helping them with their Kickstarter campaign, after having the pleasure of discussing a few promo ideas with Richard one Sunday a few months ago.  During this time, I've come to see that not only are these guys uber-talented, but they are also genuine, groovy, insightful, kind individuals.  How could anyone not want to help people like this in any way they can?

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While all this was happening, I was going to the doctor about my back pain, which seemed to be getting worse despite all attempts to reverse the issues causing it.  The doc finally suggested that I look into getting an panniculectomy.  Now, in South Carolina, no insurance, private or public, would cover anything considered cosmetic.  When I got the gastric bypass surgery, I went into it with no pipe dreams of getting any excess skin removed.  It was never an option, so I never entertained the idea.

When the doctor brought up the panniculectomy, I silently scoffed, but decided "what the hell?  It doesn't hurt to ask."  So, a couple of days later, I called Aetna and asked them if such a surgery were covered.  They informed me that, if it were considered medically necessary, they would cover it, and all I would have to pay would be $264.00.  I called the doctor, who referred me to Dr. Jason Hess.  He took pictures, informed me that he'd gotten approval for surgeries with less severe pannus issues, and said he'd be asking approval for not just a panniculectomy, but also an abdominoplasty which, combined, are basically the human equivalent to being cleaned like a fish.

In two weeks time, Aetna gave the go ahead, and I had a tummy tuck and panniculectomy in September.  I'm still recovering from it, but my back does feel better after no longer having to deal with 17 pounds of dead weight constantly pulling on my lower lumbar region.  Also, for the first time in my life, I actually have a figure.  I'm still not used to the new body.  It's like living in an alien biological construct.

So, 2015 saw me become a bit of a California stereotype in that I got plastic surgery and began "hobnobbing" with Hollywood directors and actors.  Folks, don't expect that, if you're thinking of planning on moving to California.  Bear in mind that I live in the Twilight Zone and have no idea how shit like this happens to me.

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One more cool thing that happened this year actually happened this month.  After over a year of struggling with it, I finally had a breakthrough in my arduous Wacom education.  I still have a very long way to go before I consider anything I do with the tablet worthy of pride, but at least I'm finally seeing results from what I have so far learned.  This is the result - the best representation of how I see Cadmus Pariah in my mind's eye.  I plan on making this a full body picture, not just a floating head of death, but I thought I should make note that my obvious learning disability when it comes to digital art has at long last had a wee chink taken out of its seemingly impenetrable wall.

There have been some unhappy things to happen this year - conflicts with Matt, friends falling prey to illness, seriously fucked up news on the family front, among other things - but I am choosing not to focus on that in this year-end post.  There is nothing I could write here that would change any of these things, and I frankly don't want to give the bad areas of 2015 any more power than they already have.  I would prefer to give energy to more positive outcomes in those categories in the coming year. 

That being said, here are some things I'm hoping to see happen and/or make happen in 2016.

  • Friends and family beat the odds and kick all manner of ass with some insane Health Fu.
  • The Presidential election does not turn out to be a disaster of mega-Fascist proportions.
  • People collectively reject the status quo and embrace a higher vibrational state of being.
  • There is full disclosure on extraterrestrial life and activities, as well as extra-dimensional life and activities.
  • Jeff Lynne plays a concert in San Diego and I get to attend.
  • I can eventually feel as comfortable riding the buses in San Diego as I was riding the ones in Los Angeles. LA makes a lot more sense as far as layout is concerned.  Or maybe that's just me.
  • Yoga becomes a part of my everyday life.
  • Barry Andrews has more delightful written and musical works of art in store for the world.
  • I complete my latest book and maybe even publish it.
  • The filming of Ginosaji goes smoothly and is a low-stress joy for all involved.
  • I get to go to the desert to gaze at the Milky Way at least once in 2016.
  • I and those I love are surrounded by non-toxic individuals and that we can continue to expand the influence of beauty, creativity, common sense, and divine madness.
  • The Alpaca Lips finally happens.

Here's hoping everyone has a fantastic new year.  May it be visionary in every way.

tinhuvielartanis: (Farce)

The other day, I came across this article - and soon found myself in awe of the information the piece provided. It’s an image-heavy article, which means this post will also be image-heavy. I’m not copy-pasting the text, so I strongly suggest clicking this telling image to be taken to the full write-up, especially if you’ve had a breakdown, know someone who has had a breakdown, or you ever fell victim to one of my unexpected, late-night, inexplicable and incoherent ramblings via email, blog commentary, or any other method by which you and I maintain contact.

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With each image that applies or have applied to my experience, I will share how it felt for me, if I suffered from the description in the picture. The first one here will show what will be behind the cut, should you decide to read further.

mb26.jpgFor me, this was not a sudden mindset, but a gradual one. In crises, I was always the one that held things together.  I could switch off parts of my brain, and do what I needed to do at that moment in time.  At the age of 12, I was the one who gave directions to the paramedics, when my great-grandmother had her massive stroke.  Granny was a non-functioning, human-shaped manifestation of panic, and Aunt Tudi was frantically trying to get things ready for when the ambulance arrived to the point where, honestly, she was being a detriment to any progress we might could have had. It was only two days later that the upheaval found me, at which time I became non-functional for a period of time, just a few days.  In times of turmoil, I realised I could take care of whatever situation I found myself, then release it all later in private.  The only times I ever lost that ability was the night before Granny died in 1993.  The doctors told us there was no hope, and she could die at any moment.  Since Granny also helped to raise me, having lived with me all my life, I fell to pieces.  But the next morning, when she died, I was cool as a cucumber.  This was Aunt Tudi's mother, to whom she had been excessively close.  This blow to her emotional well-being is something she never quite got over.  I was the one who had to make Granny's arrangements, and I did so in a disconnected manner, devoid of bothersome emotions.  Things needed to be done, and there was no one but me stepping up.  I remember a cousin remarking that I had to be some sort of Vulcan, or just callous as hell.

Click this if you care to continue. )
tinhuvielartanis: (RepLogo)

We would go up to Craggy Dome at least once year to pay our respects to Granny.

The last two times I visited, it was to add Aunt Tudi's ashes to Grannys. I went back up a couple of weeks later, broke my camera, got lost, and finally got back to Janice and Uncle Michael's.

I want to go again.  One more time.  I need it.  The only other place I could imagine being happy to die there is Craggy Gardens in Asheville, NC, and magick that is Avesbury.

Visiting the area from which we scattered Granny's ashes in 1993 seemed to bring a kind of peace to Aunt Tudi.  She might have started the journey a little down in the mouth, but crazy music and dangerous coffee took care of all that.  And it allowed us to have the fun, I'd like to think Granny would have wanted us to have.  The one solemn moment was when Aunt Tudi would retouch the black cross on the stone from which we launched Granny.  I could always tell when she needed some alone time.  I never thought I'd be making that drive by myself, intent on tracing a Pentagram beside the cross.  Aunt Tudi was not a Wiccan or a Pagan, but she grokked it in a way a lot of self-proclaimed Witches are at loss to understand.



I want that sensation of flight and try to spin onto my back like a bag in the wind, so I can face Nature's painting masterpiece and maybe even glimpse the spirits of Aunt Tudi and Granny, as they stand to welcome me after gravity has had its dark way.
I need to go home.

tinhuvielartanis: (PSA)

English is the only language I can fluently speak, and even that is debateable. I know bits and bobs of other languages, including Mandarin, Welsh, German, Yiddish, Russian, Polish, and Xhosa. But there is this one language whose intricacies I began learning at a very early age. That would be Sarcasm. When it comes to Sarcasm, it really doesn’t matter what your native tongue is; rather, it’s more to do with body posture, inflection of the words, even the tone of voice that makes for a successfully delivered dollop of linguistic malice.

I began learning Sarcasm at the tender age of nine. It had been going on three years since my parental units’ divorce and, even though I was well taken care of and had no doubt that I was loved by Granny and Aunt Tudi, I still missed that connection kids apparently enjoy, regardless of culture or location. I would write them letters, and be thrilled when they wrote me back.

If they wrote me back.

One day, Aunt Tudi and Granny took me to Woolworth’s so I could spend some of my allowance money. Instead of getting a little toy, or candy, or whatever a kid with a couple of bucks could buy back in 1976, I bought two identical greeting cards. After not hearing from either Unit for quite some time when I saw these cards, it was my first crash course in the wonderful world of Snark.

Even though I was hellbent on mailing them to the Mother and Father Units, Aunt Tudi convinced me not to do it. I kept the cards, though, up until I finally disposed of them in the late 90s, because they were yellow and tattered with age. The message was ingenious, though, and I kind of wish I’d held on to them, just for shits and giggles. I’ve recreated the card here, for the enjoyment of any and all.








Very simple, to the point, and unmerciful – like all good sarcasm should be.

tinhuvielartanis: (Augury)
Here's the biog, which can also be seen on my Amazon page. <--- click for that link magick to happen. No html fuckery was allowed for this, so things that should be in bold or italics are not. Sorry about that.

Tracy Angelina Evans was born on 10 September, 1967, in Asheville, North Carolina, into a small family that had more in common with the Addams Family than the Waltons. Her father was a slightly off-center Jack of all artistic trades (radio DJ, photographer, writer, journalist, singer/songwriter, comic, and Japanese commercial actor - go figure), so it was convenient that his nickname was Jack. Her mother is a first generation Hippie, who adores artistic/crafty endeavours, reading, watching horror movies, and anything to having to do with nature and the animal kingdom. Her grandparents were Big Band Jazz musicians and singers (maternal grandparental units), painters and storytellers (paternal grandmother unit), and CIA operatives (paternal grandfather unit) in what was then West Germany. She was raised by her eccentric aunt, Tudi, and paternal grandmother unit in Asheville and, later, in Duncan, SC. She began artistic pursuits at the age of 4, when her grandmother told her to go draw flies. Too young to get the joke, her first pictures were of flies. The spiders came later to eat the overpopulation of flies. Webs were really fun to draw. She began writing animals stories around the age of 7, but switched to human-centered sci-fi stories at 13, when she heard the Electric Light Orchestra's album, Time.

Language and mythology became an important part of Tracy's education at an early age, and she was fascinated with religion. Early on, she wanted to be a preacher, but was told only men could do that. Then she wanted to be a nun, going around with a towel held to her head with a plastic mixing bowl to signify her cornette, but was told only Catholics could do that. Her mother was Jewish and her father was a non-practicing Southern Baptist, so the natural progression from these lofty origins, along with the dashing of original spiritual aspirations because of denomination and gender, is for the offspring to embrace Pagan and Pantheist philosophies, which became intertwined with her sci-fi sensibilities, the music prevalent in her life, and what little she could grasp of actual science, particularly physics and psychology.

In her junior year of high school, she chose to do a research paper on anti-Utopian societies, or Dystopian worlds, using A Brave New World and 1984 as the frame work for her paper. This turned her into a conspiracy theorist and affected the general tone of her writing from then on. During this time, too, she began building a personal myth around an ancient alien race that came to Earth before the rise of humanity. Part of the process of this creation was the invention of a new language, based loosely on the Indo-European family of languages with a hint of Finno-Ugric. (How, really, did two countries so far apart from one another end up sharing a root language, anyway? Finland? Hungary? What say you?)

At the age of 19, Tracy's genuine love of music, combined with her knowledge of a wide variety of musical genres, gave her the opportunity to work in the music industry starting in 1987. She left Wofford College to pursue this career. For almost a decade, she literally (using the correct definition of the word) got paid to sit and listen to music, during which she was allowed to read, write, draw, or anything else that did not deter from her job in the quality assurance department of what was then BMG/RCA Music Service. Another nine years with the company saw her going into music promotions, which drove her clinically mad.

Her Tarmian mythology got a metaphysical shot in the arm when Tracy began studying ancient Pagan religions and dabbling in the then still fresh New Age philosophies in 1990 and going forward.

Also in 1990, she discovered what would become her favourite music band, Shriekback. They would end up having a profound effect on every aspect of her own artistic endeavours. Thanks to her entering the virtual world of the Internet in 1998, she got to eventually meet some members of the band, and help to promote them and their music since 2000. They were kind enough to allow her to use lyrics from their songs as chapter lead-ins for her books.

After the death of her aunt in 2011, Tracy moved to San Diego to be closer to her mother, taking with her, her non-human friends Smidgen (a giant cat with a partially erect furry penis for a tail) and Toby (an obnoxious deer Chihuahua who had been abandoned at the veterinary hospital for which she briefly worked as a Vet Assistant), her music, book, and DVD collections, a few clothes, and her computer.

She is quite active online, maintaining a 12-year-old blog on Live Journal, called The Cliffs of Insanity, and sharing amusing and/or infuriating bits of info and images on her Facebook page. Besides writing and devouring copious amounts of music, she enjoys drawing badly, and is trying to learn how to use an art tablet. She also loves to read, watch movies (any genre but romance), make videos for You Tube (some vids for Shriekback, some vids to share songs that might not otherwise be available, like the more obscure Celtic folk tunes of Dougie MacLean and Talitha MacKenzie, and some funny bits and bobs, like The Tim Roth Tutorials), going to drum circles on the weekend to work out her djembe and get a contact high, and enthusiastically waiting for the End of the World. Over the past few years, comedy has also become of great import to her mental health. There's a reason why we have the cliché "laughter is the best medicine."

Tracy has a strong affinity for non-human Earthlings (camelids, reptiles, birds, and mantids, in particular) and was involved in cat rescue for some time in Duncan, SC. At one point, she was seeking homes for about thirty cats she had tamed and nursed back to health, earning her the title of Crazy Cat Lady in her neighbourhood. (All the cats were re-homed.) She has worked to rehabilitate many species, including a hypoglycaemic hummingbird, a family of opossums to whom she gave epic Nordic names for no reason whatsoever, and a variety of lizards. She is in love with a planet she sees aching under the yoke of human oppression, and would do anything to see that change. She claims to be a professional misanthrope, which is most often channelled into Cadmus Pariah, but she likes you. To the best of her knowledge, her lineage includes Welsh, Scottish, English, Jewish, Dutch, Hungarian, African, and Cherokee genes, making her a class A mongrel.

After years of change and countless reassessments of her belief system, Tracy is now more comfortable with the concept of Jungian archetypes and how they are recurring themes throughout human history. As it stands at the time of this writing, she's working on a fourth Vampire book, she's still a diehard Star Wars/Star Trek sci-fi/fantasy nerd, an apostle of JRR Tolkien's and Robert Anton Wilson's, an opinionated grouch, and a constant victim of synchronicity, which tends to spread the wealth of weirdness with anyone in close proximity. She has a short list of heroes that include Jeff Lynne, Carl Jung, Barry Andrews, Neil deGrasse Tyson, and Starhawk. She is also one of the 14 remaining people on Earth who dislikes Joss Whedon and that for which he stands, and has actually lost friends because of her opinion. If she had her druthers, Tracy would move to Avebury, Wiltshire, and groove on the ley lines' vibrations for the rest of her life.

She's absolutely certain that she is uncertain about everything, and that is most certainly a statement loaded with uncertainty.




At Buckingham Palace in 2006.
tinhuvielartanis: (Bible)



When I was as young as three years old, I believed without question the existence of god. At four, I began wearing a towel on my head (don't go there with the jokes...), held down by a plastic mixing bowl, to pretend I was a nun. I also attended temple a couple of times with the Mother Unit. I got my first taste of wine there. Mogen David FTW!

At the age of five, in my first grade class, we were all required to recite psalm 23. Since my family was of mixed faith, and not excessively religious (I was probably the most "devout" at that time), I knew no bible verses by heart. I was the only one in my class not to get a silver star by her name. Looking back, this was my first experience with indoctrination in a setting that should have been more in line with the law of separation of church and state. It was mortifying, to say the least. I remember crying all the way home and staying up well past my bedtime to memorise the psalm, but was never called on in school to clear my name as a godless fiend. During this time, I also got it into my head that I wanted to be a preacher.

Aunt Tudi explained to me that I couldn't be nun, because I wasn't Catholic, and female preachers are few and far between, and usually weren't respected or listened to. So that was that.

A few months before my sixth birthday, my family exploded, when the Mother Unit requested a divorce. During this time, a pastor started frequenting the house. He'd take me for rides in the car on occasion, and we'd sing the BINGO song. While he was showing the face of a concerned man of god during this difficult time in the family's life, the family comprising of the Units, Granny, and Aunt Tudi, he was discreetly fleecing anything of worth from an already desperately poor family. I didn't find out that last part until years later, but I had always wondered why he suddenly stopped visiting, especially when I felt I needed him most, after the break-up was finalised and my Father Unit had a nervous breakdown. It turns out he got what he wanted, which was pretty much everything we had had as a family unit.

While I was being verbally terrorised by the Father Unit, as he instructed me to despise the Mother Unit for all she had done, and telling me she had never loved me, otherwise she wouldn't have left, I prayed fervently to a god that never seemed to hear me. I felt adrift. I never felt safe. When I got to see her, Granny would tell me the story of Job, and that all I needed was to hold on to my faith, and eventually everything would be okay.

But it wasn't. I had my home, my neighbourhood, my parents, and my favourite grandmother and aunt taken away from me, until the authorities decided on what to do with me. By the time I was seven, I was living with Aunt Tudi and Granny, in an A-frame chalet in Black Mountain, North Carolina. I still wanted to believe in the existence of a higher power, so I began reading the bible frequently. Aunt Tudi bought me a Rainbow Bible. I still have it...I think.

I remember reading about Gideon in Judges, how he wanted proof of the existence of god, and put the deity to a test. This verse, Judges 6:39, impacted me:



And Gideon said unto God, Let not thine anger be hot against me, and I will speak but this once: let me prove, I pray thee, but this once with the fleece; let it now be dry only upon the fleece, and upon all the ground let there be dew.



I figured if Gideon could do this, and be answered by god, surely I could too. It was in the bible, so it must be something that was true and could be repeated. I got a dry washcloth and, placing it in the very back of my closet, asked god to let me know he was with me, that he did listen to me, by making the cloth wet by morning.

Morning came, and I rushed to the closet with hope and expectation. The cloth was dry.

I could not bring myself to say there was no god. Atheism is still unthinkable in the Southeast United States, but back in the 70s, the very word itself was an abomination. I could not not believe in god. But I learned a new word - agnostic. From 1975 until 1988, I was an agnostic. That doesn't mean I didn't have spiritual experiences. I had a few throughout my life, like the revelation of Durga at the age of five, and the irrefutable holy feeling upon seeing the beginning of the movie Xanadu, featuring Jeff Lynne's music. Even Star Wars triggered a spiritual reaction in me, which I found out later was a very natural one, considering the use of archetypes and stories older than even our most ancient ancestors.

In 1988, I began studying Wicca. I felt like I'd come home. Here was a spiritual place that you carried within you, a way of life that held everyone (male, female, human, non-human - all life) in a kind of reverence. It renewed my belief in magick and the possibility of a life of wonderment. By 1990, I had become a New Age Fluffy Bunny. By 1992, I was a High Priestess in the Caledonii Tradition. Even though I eventually turned to solitary practice and dropped the Wiccan label, preferring the cognomen of Witch, my faith never faltered.

Until 2011. On August 25th, 2011, I was catapulted into the gravest spiritual crises I'd ever known. It was different this time. I didn't feel as though god/dess was not listening to my prayers; rather, I found I had nothing to say to any deity. If people would ask, I'd nonchalantly say that I was going through a spiritual crisis or that I was a Pagan-leaning agnostic.

Monday will mark the third anniversary of Aunt Tudi's death. When it happened, people wanted to pray for me, or pray with me. They tried to comfort me with praise of god/dess. I felt myself being offended and angry, not just with deity, but also with the people who seemed to crawl out of the woodwork to use my tragedy to turn me to god. On Christmas Eve, I called my Aunt Josephine to wish her a merry Christmas. I was only four months out from losing Aunt Tudi, so the wound was still raw (honestly, it still is). Instead of giving me any sort of comfort in her own way, instead of even wishing me a merry Christmas back, Josephine proceeded to tell me that I needed to get right with god; otherwise, I wouldn't see Aunt Tudi in the afterlife, as she was in heaven, and I was definitely headed for hell. That was the last time I ever talked to her.

Three years on, and where am I as far as my quest for a higher power or my need to commune with deity? In all honesty, I would have to say that I've crossed that line between agnosticism and atheism. With all the horror I see in the world now, I prefer the idea that there is no god as opposed to one that seems to revel in the continuous abject suffering of its creations. I have no patience for any of it, in whatever incarnation people claim it exists. I want no part of it.

Now some may say that this is simply my own version of the descent of the goddess, and they can believe that all they want to. If I've been descending, then this post is the end of my journey, because I don't plan on ascending. There is nothing up there for me.

So yeah, I think it is pretty safe to say that I am an atheist. Looking back on my experiences with the spiritual world, I can see now that it was an inevitability.

Drifting

Aug. 2nd, 2014 12:38 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Default)

It is cloudy today.  I don’t know how long it will last, so I’m looking out the window occasionally to enjoy the lack of sun.  Smidgen and Toby are here with me on the bed.  I am rifling through a couple of old Shriekback articles I need to transcribe, whilst following various news sources concerning the chaos on several continents, mainly the Gaza tragedy and the Ebola outbreak. But I’m also taking mini-breaks from all that to aggressively seek out stuff that will make me laugh.  Laughter is sometimes the only thing that will convince me I’m going to make it through the day without killing myself or someone else, or both.


Some new health issues have come up, but I’m not going to delve into that until I see my doctor on the 7th of August.


As is evidenced in my post last night, I am still writing.  I don’t know when The Augury of Gideon is going to be released, but I promise it is complete and ready, for anyone who might be interested.  Also, I started a Facebook page for The Vampire Relics.  Please click the title to go see and join up.  I’d love to have you.


For the past few days, I’ve been missing Todd a great deal.  I don’t think I’ll ever get over losing him, and I do worry about him a lot, given what I assume to be some serious emotional upheaval in his life this past year.  One of the things I liked about coming out to California was to have a better chance of seeing him again, since he’s also on the West Coast.  It’s safe to say that won’t be happening.


Also, I’m deeply frustrated in regard to helping people effectively use the power of the Internet that is right at their finger-tips.  I am by, by no means, a computer or network expert, but I’ve dabbled, explored, and worked damned hard to learn what I have over the past 15 years, and I would like to think that my efforts will not be vain, but I’m beginning to think I’ll always be the one to “set the time on the VCR”, so to speak.


Janice is finally getting her knee replacement, I think next week.  She was wonderful at taking care of me after mine, so I feel a bit guilty not being there for her.  She said she’d be okay, and she does have Johnna, Michael, and the kids.  Blake is going to be staying with Uncle Michael during her recovery.  I hope everything goes as smoothly for her as it did for me.  I know her doctor.  He was Aunt Tudi’s orthopedic doctor, so I have no doubt she is in very good hands.


I am thinking about committing to “paper” some accounts from my childhood that haunt me to this day.  There are four, three of which have to do the paranormal or alien engagement, and one that I think was the Mother and Father Units fucking with me when I was in my crib.  When I sufficiently gathered my thoughts about that, I’ll begin posting about them.  I need to see if anyone else has ever experienced anything similar.


The Mother Unit is going to Costco later on, and I need to go with her.  It’s time to restock cat litter and the fur-kids’ vittles.  I don’t know what she and Matt have planned for tomorrow.  Maybe we’ll go drumming, if the timing is right and we all feel like it.  It would probably do me a little bit of good to get out of the house, at least as long as the sun isn’t trying to incinerate me.  It’s not that it is hot, but that is almost always present.  I feel like an ant under a magnifying glass.



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Gratitude

Jul. 8th, 2014 12:08 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Nathor)

There may be people out there who have the impression that I’m a misanthropic asshole with no sense of gratitude.


It’s true, I am a misanthropic asshole, but I am grateful for a lot of things and beings, including people.  I thought it might behove me to step out of “character” for a few minutes and make a list.  So here we go.

cut for courtesy )

1. The Mother Unit - for rescuing me from myself last year, and having more patience with me than I ever would with anyone, including myself.


2. My friends.  Even though I’ve lost a few since 2011, I’ve retained many very important souls in my life, many of which I met here on LJ.  Despite my general dislike for our species, I harbour much fondness for my Tribe.  Many of you stuck with me through the darkest period of my life, often saving my skin and literally saving my life and sanity when I did nothing to deserve such kindness, and there’s really no way I can ever sufficiently repay you for that.  I just hope that I can do something for each of you someday, that might properly express how much you mean to me.


3. Smidgen and Toby.  They cradle my soul like no one else would be willing to, or could.  The unconditional love cats and dogs give us may well be the primary way god/dess is trying to tell us that we aren’t alone, that we count in some way.  Despite my agnosticism, Toby and Smidgen are the ones who keep me from full-on atheism.


4. Music.  Music is the closest thing to the concept of Force that we can get.  I’ve long believed that the multiverse in which we dwell is a song that is still being composed.  It is the purest form of communication, and it is something that every living being expresses in one form or another.  We are all songs, we are the music of creation, we are the mathematics and art of dreams and concepts.


5. Fey Publishing - for taking a chance on me and my strange tales.  My third book will be available soon, thanks to Fey’s original owner, Sophie Childs, and its current sovereign, Kristen Duvall.  Click on their names to learn more about these brilliant women.  I owe them both a great deal, for their initial and continued faith in me, and for their patience as I struggled through my own personal bullfunky to finally get the third Vampire Relics book to Dark Fey’s door.


6. Shriekback, in particular Barry Andrews, for letting me have a ringside seat to their ongoing awesomeness.  Since 1990, they’ve been an almost constant source of inspiration and comfort, soundtracking my life’s highs and lows, and everything in between.  If we lived on Arrakis, I would owe Barry a huge water-debt.


Debut1


7. The Impractical Jokers and The Epic Rap Battles of History.  My entire life, I’ve been a huge supporter of all brands of humour, but my quest for things that would make me laugh became a desperate effort following Aunt Tudi’s death.  Of all the things I explored in my quest for laughter, The Tenderloins (Impractical Jokers) and the guys behind The Epic Rap Battles were the only ones who never failed to bring me a joy that was otherwise almost impossible to find.


8. You Tube and Netflix.  When you don’t have a TV, these two wonderful services are a wonderful, and often preferable, alternative.


9. Dr. Harrington.  Of all the therapists I’ve had over the years, this is the only one I’ve ever felt actually listens to me.  His wry wit, proclivity to play devil’s advocate, and his willingness to swear are just three of many things that impress me about the man.  And he’s a good person, a genuinely good person.


10. The Internet.  When someone asked me how I felt about the Internet back in 1998, I told them that the Internet was the universe’s largest library. You could find out anything by exploring the endless halls of virtual books.  You need only be aware of the pervert at the end of each aisle and act accordingly to avoid them.


11. Sleep.  When you’re a chronic insomniac, the value of sleep increases a thousandfold.  I was never one of those kids who balked at bedtime; I was always a fan of slumber, mainly because of my vast dreamscape.  Being able to achieve lucidity at times only added to the wonder of it all.  After I began suffering from insomnia, those rare occasions where I’d achieve a few hours of really good sleep with a possible bonus of now rare dreams, reached a level of miraculous for me.  I am never not profoundly grateful for sleep.


12. Drum circles.  I’ve always been fond of them, but rediscovering drumming and, in particular, trance drumming, has reconnected me to deity on a level I thought was no longer possible.  There’s something about surrendering to a group rhythm that is both spiritual and therapeutic.  Thankfully, drum circles in San Diego are never on short supply, unlike the Upstate of South Carolina.


13. Earth.  I try to never take my home planet for granted, especially now that my species seems hellbent on destroying the only home we’ve ever known.  In vast expansiveness of the multiverse, this magickal sphere upon which we all live makes it seem more likely than not, that life is more prevalent than we can imagine.  And Earth is teeming with it, in mind-boggling varieties throughout an inconceivable history.  This “pale, blue dot” may be tiny in the scheme of everything, but the planet is unique and precious, a work of divine art, from the towering trees of the Amazon to the majesty of the Smoky Mountains, all resonating with the subtle song of water, that which gives life as we know it.  We have no right to visit so much suffering upon the body and spirit of our galactic mother.  Throughout every day, I am stunned by the miracle of our home, and I grieve for everything that has lost in the wake of our destruction.  I walk through life, grateful to Earth for her presence, and therefore ours, and I hope that my fellow humans and I can find some semblance of forgiveness for our transgressions.

So there it is.  Thirteen things for which I am very grateful.  I’m sure there’s more, but these are the Big Ones in my life, at this moment.  What do you treasure?  For what are you grateful?

tinhuvielartanis: (Danny Elfman Muse)
I was awake literally all night, finally falling asleep sometime after 6:30 this morning and waking up in a panic at 8:15. I hurriedly dressed, grabbed Chester and Toby's collars and rushed them to the car in the rain. They had an appointment with Michelle, our longtime groomer. The dogs had a previous appointment sometime in August. It was missed. Need I say why? Thought not. Anyways, they were long overdue for a bath, especially poor Chester, who looked like an abandoned rag mop caught in one of Dubya's "shock and awe" crap attacks. Drop off time for dogs is 7:30 'til 9:00. I got there with 10 minutes to spare, but looking like I needed to be groomed too. I explained to Michelle what had happened, chatted for a couple of minutes, then came back home to do some cleaning that would by easier to do without the dogs being underfoot.

I didn't get much done.

I came home with the intention to rest just a little. I passed flat out and slept for around three hours. Jumping back up in a panic, I ate a quick breakfast, shuffled Smidgen outside and set to gathering all the trash in the house, including cleaning out the refrigerator and freezer for the first time in four months. I figured everything would be severely sparse after I was done. The minute I started working on the fridge, I lost my freaking mind. It's never a good thing when you find yourself sitting on your kitchen floor, clinging to a bottle of Kraft salad dressing, and crying uncontrollably. It was just downhill from there. I got the vacuuming done and the garbage collected, including everything in the fridge, but I couldn't do the freezer before time to clean up and go get the dogs. So the day was pretty much another of a string of busts for me. Not good on Solstice, especially what is hopefully my last Winter Solstice, as Solstice 2012 is the 22nd and I, along with everyone else, will be dead dead dead.

So I got ready, hauled the four big bags of trash out to the car and drove in a misting rain to the dump to drop it off. The minute I got out of the car to dump the garbage, it came a hard rain and my hair "collapsed like flan in a cupboard." (quote by Eddie Izzard) I went to pick up the dogs with a hideously wet, stringy head. I'm sure I looked like Meg Mucklebones when I got to Michelle's. Great. We yapped and caught up while my hair dried a little.

On the way back home, I got a call from Janice asking if she could use my freezer to store some food. I told her of course, go ahead, and take anything in there she might want or need. She was kind enough to take all the stuff that belonged to Aunt Tudi, 'cos I told her about losing my mind earlier.

When I got off the phone with her, I noticed a street sign by the name of Frohawk. Now...I've heard of Mohawks and Fauxhawks (that's just plain stupid, by the by), but Frohawk? My mind began racing with what that would look like, being a child of the 70s, who well remembers and venerates the Fro. So, I'm gonna try to make me a Frohawk and have a picture taken underneath the street sign. It'll take me a while to figure this out, but that's okay, 'cos I don't even have a bleeding camera right now. But stay tuned for that. I have the Hoozer Daddy street sign pic, so I think that the Frohawk Project should be fantastico. I just need a lot of hair, glue, and a bald person, or a one of those bald rubber caps sold around Samhain.

I was supposed to go to Davis and Kathleen's place for a modest Solstice gathering, perhaps cast a Circle and herald the light back in, because I really need to do that. It looks like I'll be doing that alone, though, 'cos I'm night blind which is worse if it's raining. To top it off, I've lost my glasses, which means everything far off is a bit iffy. I'm not sure I want to risk bumming fellow brouhaha-gatherers by dying or sommat. Myself, I don't give a shite, but whatever.

In somewhat happier news, a very talented man who goes by the "band" name Radical Face, is now easily found on The Intarwebs. When I first heard the portion of "Welcome Home," it was in a local commercial put out by the Greenville Library System. I had to find the right person in Greenville to talk to about the music used for the advert and he gave me the name "Radical Face." This was in early 2007 and I went on a Holy Mission to find the elusive Radical Face online. I finally found a remote website and wrote to the email address found there. I was contacted by Radical Face shortly thereafter and given the song. Deja Vu anyone? Today, the song played on the iPod and I decided to see how Radical Face was doing after all these years. He is everywhere online, including having a video for "Welcome Home" on YouTube. I plan on exploring more of his music now and offer up the video as a testament to the beauty of this song and the brilliance of Ben "Radical Face."

tinhuvielartanis: (Ornate Triskele)
So...with the passing of Aunt Tudi, I am alone. I don't hardly remember September except some of the highlights of the train ride and bonding with the Mother Unit like never before. She even let me in her and Matt's home to get to know Matt better and see her flock of birds. I had a lovely time with herd, but funds went low and I had to come back to the house early and not even go to Todd in Vancouver, Washington.

The rest of September was spent in solitude, lying on the love seat with the animals on me, watching 'Law & Order,' and weeping. The house went to hell and I vomited everything I tried to eat or drink. From July to now, I have lost 69 pounds. I've declared it the Stress and Grief diet and am thinking about marketing it.

October was spent pretty much the same way. I do remember being in the hospital from a break down at some time. Then another from weakness. I'm low on potassium and am seriously anaemic. Still, I'm feeling unsure of my legs, as I've fallen so many times. At one time, I fell when using a walker, on my way to the bedroom, thinking I heard Aunt Tudi. I ended up giving myself a terrible black eye from that fall. Tuesday, I fell five times, skinning my shin on the rocks of Craggy Garden when I went to speak to the spirits of Aunt Tudi and Granny, saying things I wasn't comfortable saying in front of others. I got there and back, though, so I'm more confident about driving home.

Yesterday, I attended a fire party thrown by Davis and Kathleen. The harpist did not come as I had hoped, so that I could give that closure as well. Ten years of resentment and loss is enough. But it is my first step in crawling out of my grievous Hobbit hole.

I'm still considering finding homes for all the animals. Riley is already gone to a very loving home whose people had just lost a wire-haired dachshund. I miss him, but it's already easier with just two dogs. All the animals are missing Aunt Tudi still and they miss me, because I've spent so much time at Uncle Michael's and Aunt Janice's.

But I'm working on moving back in my house and, since the family now has no doubt about my spiritual path, I'm going to Witch my home up. I couldn't take any more Christian postulations as I went through my grieving process. I told them that Aunt Tudi had come to understand the Witch's path, had been Croned, and was not thoroughly Christian, especially an xtian. Once I get finances sorted, I'm purchasing one thing a month from Azure Green. I'm also taking my gear and supplies out of the closet and drawers. Now that I am alone, I'm considering easing back into the Witches' community, if not here, in Asheville. Everyone will know my ways and, if they don't like it, they can remove themselves from my life, or pray for me, or do whatever they can do.

There are crosses etched into the red rock where we scattered both Granny's and Aunt Tudi's ashes. I took the metal tool and drew a humble pentagram and triskele there as well. More will be done. The etchings will be stronger and candles will be lit.

I am alone now, but I am hoping I can reestablish myself with what friends and family I have, and to learn what life without Aunt Tudi will be like. For now I'm off to do laundry and vacuum the floor. I have a new appreciation of a domestic life.

Symbols

Sep. 4th, 2011 11:12 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Barry - Elf)
The family and some friends went up to Craggy Gardens on the Blue Ridge Parkway and scattered Aunt Tudi's ashes. We also scattered the ashes of her beloved dog Sheba and I poured two litres of 7-Up upon the site, since that was Aunt Tudi's favourite drink that she drank all the time. I then took the kids, Steven, and Blake's girlfriend up the Faery path so that they could see some of the suspected Faery homes that are nestled along the path.

Upon my return, I found crosses etched all over the stone that marked where we scattered Aunt Tudi's ashes. I hid my hurt and rage at this, since Aunt Tudi was most definitely not an xtian, so I asked for the scissors Janice used to etch the crossed into the stone, and I carved a Pentagram and a Triskele into the stone in amongst the crosses. This would balance out the variety of faiths to which Aunt Tudi had been exposed and the bits of each religious tenet she took with her and found relevant to her own path. If I could have remembered it, I would have etched the symbol for the Unitarian Universalist Church on the stone because, if she were anything, it was that to which she was closest. I'm going to get that symbol and return to the stone to etch it into the rock for her, because that church was very important to her.

I thank Lady Neith for that and I always will.

After the scattering and before the Faery walk, we all said something in Aunt Tudi's honour. Little Michael and I were the last to speak. He offered up prayer to the xtian God, then I spoke of mine and Aunt Tudi's relationship, her system of belief, and then I recited "Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep" by Mary E. Frye. I handled it all pretty well and hugged tightly those who lost it, especially Blake, who had always been very close to Aunt Tudi.

I'm spending the night at home tonight, by myself. The spirit of Aunt Tudi is with me and I don't feel so terribly haunted and wounded. A strange peace has settled over me for right now, like I'm blanketed by the Goddess and she is coming to me in the form of Aunt Tudi. I'm going to stay here on the love seat and watch TV until I fall asleep and then, tomorrow, I'm going to a cookout with the family after I try to get the house in order. It's been almost two weeks now since anything has been done, and the house looks like a pipe bomb has gone off in it.

It's time to get myself together and get ready to leave for a while to help in the healing and to reunite with loved ones I have not seen in much too long a time.
tinhuvielartanis: (2D and 3C)
The entire family is going, unlike when Granny died.  When we scattered her ashes, it was just Aunt Tudi, Uncle Michael, Janice, and myself.  Granny was loved and honoured, but Aunt Tudi was cherished by so many.  Stephanie is going with us.  She was incredibly close to Aunt Tudi and I think she would have wanted to be there.  Afterward, we may go downtown and then get a bite to eat, letting the rest of the family go where they may.  We want to tread the paths that Aunt Tudi taught us.  We need to embrace her spirit in her beloved hometown.

I'm sure I'll get lost, but I'll eventually find my way.  I'm counting on Aunt Tudi's spirit to guide me back to South Carolina, away from my home that I wish I knew better.  I have decided to go there more often and learn the secret paths of the mountain town.  I want know it the way Aunt Tudi knew it.  I want to be a part of it the way I used to be.  It's the only way I feel I can be truly close to Aunt Tudi.

She never wanted to die in South Carolina.  She did not get her wish.  For that, I will always be regretful.  At least her cremains will rest in the beloved Smoky Mountains and her spirit will drift wherever it wishes.  I hope she'll spend some time with me.
tinhuvielartanis: (T and B)
Today, I got a surprise at the dentist's office when I went to pay them what I've owed them like forever. First off, they cut my bill by over $400, leaving me only $98 to pay, which just threw me for a loop. Then, when I asked them about setting up my appointment for the dreaded Root Canal. Lois said "I think Dr. Zimmerman had a cancellation at 2 PM. Let's see if we can get you in to see him today." My teeth started to chatter with fright, but I told her OK, and she called his office. The spot was still open, so I was given a surprise Root Canal today. It only took thirty minutes or so and it didn't hurt like I thought it would, but the sound of the drill and the feeling of what he was doing just freaked me out. My imagination gets the better of me at the dentist's office, making anything ten times worse than it actually is. They sent me on my way with nothing for pain, so I was a little scared about that since I can't take aspirin-based stuff and Tylenol does nothing for me.

But I had a Grand Idea. Today is Janice's birthday and I wanted to take her and Aunt Tudi out for a birthday dinner. Janice won't ride with me in the car since I was diagnosed with epilepsy, so she always drives when she goes anywhere with us. I sit in the back seat and enjoy the music 'cos that's how I roll yo...when I don't have to drive. We were going to Outback, so I decided to get drunk. Not tipsy, not looped, but Crazy Damned Drunk so I could forget the freakiness of the Root Canal and not worry about any residual pain for a while. I ordered a pitcher of their new Strawberry Peach Sangria. It's described thusly (that's a good word.):

The sweet goodness of fresh pureed strawberries and peaches is mixed with Malibu Pineapple Rum, Sutter Home White Zinfandel, pineapple juice and garnished with fresh sliced strawberries.


Well, since I couldn't eat all that well, with half my head still numb (I could only flare one nostril, it was funnier than hell), I drank my supper. By the time we left, I was Crazy Drunk and loving the world, which is saying a lot for a misanthrope.

When I got home after mailing [livejournal.com profile] acook's commission dough and getting Uncle Michael a meal from Arby's (he preferred that to Outback, 'cos he's crazy), I sat down at the beloved computer and began to check mail, LJ, and Facebook. Something told me...Okay, the alcohol told me to write Barry about the new package I'm sending him. I came through as Crazy Drunk, even suggesting that I wanted a Scotsman. I'm sure he's gonna think to himself "Oh dear, my Stalker has gone off the deep end." I did tell him I was drunk though, so it should be okay. But OMIGAWD. HAHAHAHAHAHA!

My feeling is coming back and my buzz is wearing off, and I'm not in pain, so I think it's gonna be good. After this storm passes, I'm gonna get the dogs ready for bed and head that way myself. It's been a helluva day.
tinhuvielartanis: (Alpaca Lips)
What's going on today?

  1. I'll be giving Chester his Summertime shaving, and I'll be clipping all the dogs' toenails. At the very least, this will take me a couple of hours. Right now the dogs are all chillaxing like they haven't a care in the world. Once the toenails start flying, they'll know that the day isn't going to be a business-as-usual day of relaxation. I can hear the angry growls of protest now.

  2. Blake is supposed to swing by for a visit so he can pick up his birthday card and gift. Aunt Tudi and I scrimped and saved like crazy in order to give him $20. I'm certain he'll be thrilled with the dough. In this day and age, people are thrilled to get monetary gifts, and they know how fortunate they are to be receiving such a gift. Ten years ago, $20 wasn't that big of a deal. Funny how just a handful of years can make all the difference in the world.

  3. Sometime after the dogs' grooming and family visitation, I'd like to squeeze in some quality time for writing. I haven't sat down to seriously commit some wordage to virtual paper in about a week, and I'm beginning to suffer from the writing withdrawals. Ideally, I'd like to finish "The Last Acolyte" today and begin on the third story in the Cadmus anthology.

  4. Before I begin my work, I'm having a late breakfast and watching 2012. That movie is like porn for me as I see global mass destruction on an unprecedented scale, and hope that this actually happens next year. The more I watch this movie, the more I get the warm fuzzlies. The only thing I hope does not happen is that anyone survives the cataclysm. Only the animals should survive the 2012 disaster. After all the horror our species has imposed upon planet Earth and our fellow inhabitants, Humanity deserves extinction.

  5. After my work, I need to do some online research on Ramtha for Todd. I've known about this grifter for decades, and Todd and I have discussed her in the past. He was invited to a dinner party last weekend where the folks discussed a variety of spiritual matters. A few days later, he asked his friend to what group they all belonged because I had asked Todd and Todd didn't know. His friend told him that they belonged to Ramtha's School of Enlightenment. My knee jerk reaction was "Ohhh nooo..." I've already sent some information about JZ Knight/Ramtha to Todd, but I need to send him more. The aim is to ensure Todd does not associate with these people at any depth because RSE is a cult and a dangerous one at that.


So this will take up the majority of my Bealtainne. One more Bealtainne to be had before the Alpaca Lips. I may have to find me a gawgeous man with whom to celebrate my last Bealtainne... If only Vin Diesel would volunteer for God to my Goddess duties, I could leave this mortal coil a happy happy woman. Heh.

Sojourn

Jan. 12th, 2011 04:02 pm
tinhuvielartanis: (Snow)
After Janice helped me get the car out of the driveway (she drove and I pushed), I hit the road and headed to the drug store for mine and Aunt Tudi's prescriptions. The roads are barely icy now. There are a few treacherous spots in the shady areas on the secondary roads, but that's about it. I had no trouble whatsoever getting to Lyman and back home. When I got back, I let Janice and Uncle Michael know how the roads were in the event they wanted to brave the weather. I also told them that I'd be happy to take them anywhere they wanted to go if they didn't want to risk it. They let me keep the car parked up at their house so I wouldn't be stuck again. So now we all have a way to get around if the need arises. It's about time, too. I was suffering from major cabin fever. It's weird; I can stay home for days on end when I know I can go anytime I please but, when I realise I'm truly stuck, all I can think about is getting away. Funny how the mind works.
tinhuvielartanis: (Dodo)
I'm not feeling the Internet like I used to and there's really nothing to report here, so I've been reading the books the Mother Unit has been sending me. We are so much alike when it come to taste in reading, it's not even funny. I'm humbled really that genetics can have such an effect on people and simple things like reading preferences can be passed along with such precision. Right now I'm reading a book called The Resort by Bentley Little. It's an eerie little tale, sort of like The Shining meets that creepy crawly feeling you get when you have to go to bed in the middle of the night. I started reading it yesterday and will probably finish it tomorrow.

In other news, my male cousin announced yesterday that his wife is pregnant. It's hard to believe that Little Michael is finally gonna have a kid. This time, I hope it's a boy, 'cos Michael is the only one in our family who can carry on the name. I don't want the Evans name to die out. I'm proud of being an Evans and I want the name to continue on through history, or at least until 2012. Next Christmas should be interesting with a new bebbeh with which to celebrate. Whatever the gender, it'd be nice if they'd let me name the kid. If it were a boy, I'd name it Gabriel Sebastian and, if it were a girl, Licit Anastasia. The kid will probably get something pedestrian like Luke. Not that I don't like that name.

Friday

Oct. 22nd, 2010 08:09 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Cadmus Castigation)
Today is gonna be a bad knee day. I woke with them aching me like two raw toothaches. The boys, Blake and Colby, are due over to do some yardwork we prepaid them to do when it was too hot to breathe, much less do yard work. Now that it's in the 70s, though, they're coming this morning to pay their debt to Evans society. They'll be pruning back the contorted filbert and stripping the fences of morning glories. I will not be helping them. I will be indoors supervising the dogs and working on my werewolf western. I gave Russ the bare bones of the story to see if it was something he might be interested in. Turns out that he is, so I need to flesh it out a little bit for the compilation. I never thought I'd be writing about werewolves, especially in the setting of the Wild West. Will miracles never cease?

I'm due ten, maybe twenty, more discs from Uncle Michael. He used to have an extensive collection of about 800 CDs, but the economy dictated that he sell his collection. He's down to about 200 discs now, which is a real shame because he had the most extensive music collection I've ever seen. At least the last of his collection will be committed to memory on iTunes and Froderick.

I'm hoping today will be easier than I expect it to be. Guess we'll see.
tinhuvielartanis: (Devil Smidge)
David Bowie is just a genius. For someone to think up the song 'Fashion' has to be a freakin' genius.

That's not what this post is about. It's just sort of random something.

Oh oh BIG NEWS. I'm writing a Joker fanfic. I need a vacation from everything else and I did promise [livejournal.com profile] acook a Femme Joker story. Not sure how it's gonna turn out, but I'm hellbent on writing it. It's my Joker. Same Joker I've always written except for that Mister J is Miss J instead. And she's out to date the Bat. So I'm working on that.

I've 16 copies of The Chalice coming to me, all of them spoken for. I'll be taking a copy up to Malaprops for certain so that they can see they get props in the book. Hopefully, they'll order a bunch wholesale and want me to do a book signing. That'd be groovy. I'd write my 'Writers' Cabal/Vampire Division' shirt up there for the big even. Man, am I such a dreamer.

Aunt Tudi made some buttery biscuits. There's nothing like a Southern buttermilk biscuit. Nothing at all. No, my English friends, it is not a cookie. It's a wad of cooked dough that will pitch a party in your mouth, especially if you add butter and jam to it. One big biscuit is like a meal to me, so Aunt Tudi makes sure to make what she calls "The Big Mama." That was my supper.

I sure hope this Pristiq works for Aunt Tudi pretty soon. She's gonna lose it and kill me if something drastic doesn't take place. Then again, my Cymbalta really isn't working all that well, so someone killing me isn't necessarily an unpleasant thought.

Now I'm listening to a song by Dave Brubek & Louis Armstrong. The bassline in this is very important to me because it's my grandfather Irving Manheim playing the upright. He played with so many people and I wish I knew who all were graced with his funky bassline. I often wonder what happened to his bass after he died. I want to someday create a website honouring both Irving Manheim and Helen Aprea (my grandmother, who sang in the Jazz Age up until lung cancer took her voice). I mentioned doing this with the Mother Unit, but my work with the book got to be the center of my attention. Perhaps after the sales begin to slow, I can collaborate with the unit on writing the website and her putting it together.

Ah, now Danny Elfman. The theme song from 'Wanted,' which makes me think of James McAvoy. Now I can't think at all.
tinhuvielartanis: (Ornate Triskele)
I come across as not very thankful or friendly at times. Today is the day to at least rectify the thankful portion of my transgressions. This is a tad late, but I've been a tad busy, so better late than never, eh wot?

Things for which I am thankful:

  • Food and Shelter

  • The menagerie, even though they drive me crazy sometimes

  • Cheerwine!

  • My computer and the Internet

  • My vast collection of notes and art

  • The books on my bookshelves

  • The ION, which is still running without problems (knock on wood)

  • My health, now that it's back!

  • Live Journal and all my physical journals

  • My movie collection and Netflix, without which I would go mad


People for which I am thankful:

  • Aunt Tudi

  • The Mother Unit

  • My Friend Todd

  • Steph

  • Travis

  • Little Michael

  • Barry Andrews

  • [livejournal.com profile] gunslingaaahhh

  • [livejournal.com profile] luvthyjoker

  • Scott

  • Barack Obama

  • The Joker Blogs crew

  • Timothy

  • The Writers' Cabal

  • Everyone in my Tribe, and you know who you are

  • All my online friends, especially here on LJ ~ you're my cyber-family and I love you.



So there you go. Thank you, Mighty Ones, for everything and everyone. I hope I someday live up to the bounty you've bestowed up on me.

BD

Sep. 11th, 2009 11:06 am
tinhuvielartanis: (Ka-Tet)
Friends and Tribe never fail to reach out. Family? Like I said in a Tweet last night before passing flat out: disappointed, but not surprised. This is why I prefer friends and Tribe. At least we all think of one another. It's not about giving gifts, it's about the thought.

Some people never ever learn.

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tinhuvielartanis: (Default)
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