The Cliffs of Insanity

Since I've been in California, I have noticed a distinct change in my mood and my thought processes.

I do not think of Aunt Tudi 24/7 like I was doing. When I do, they are good memories, and I am sharing those with the Mother Unit.

It's not like I don't have my moments. I still envision her dying, but it's only happened a couple of times in the past two weeks.

My sleep isn't much better, but at least I can sleep a little each night.

This is the first time in two years that I've felt that everything was going to be alright.

19 June, 2013 2:07 AM Mountain Time

We’re right at 200 miles away from San Diego.

It’s been one hell of a trip. More fucked up than I would have hoped for, but there were some good bits, like beginning some good bonding with the Mother Unit, and the tourist-y part where we detoured to Tombstone.

And I made a new friend ~ Doug. I failed to get his Internet contact information, though. Crapola. I’ll have to ask the Unit if she could give that to me, with his permission of course. And I’ll definitely share my info with him. He’s a good guy.

The Moon is huge tonight. It’s as if she’s hovering a mere six feet above the ground, her partial body a rich orange. Being able to see heavenly bodies without trees as the usual obstacles they are in the East. (I refuse to start saying “back East.” That’s such a Western expression, and I’m still way too much of an Easterner to go there yet. Maybe in a year…and a day. HA) Don’t get me wrong; I am going to desperately miss the lush forests of the Southeast, but I’d be a fool not to appreciate the opportunity to commune with the stellar symphony the desert affords. It seems like an extremely Cadmusian pastime, considering I have him galaxy-gazing more often than not in so many written scenarios.

Like son, like mother.

After some serious hardships, dealing with Facebook not wanting to share Barry’s video file, to my initial uploading of “JUJU GRID (GO LIVE)” having a seriously skewed ratio, I finally resorted to sucking off a private Internet access port ~ yes, I kinda hacked into it ~ in order to achieve what I aimed, and finally got the video onto You Tube to Barry’s satisfaction. I told him what I’d done, and that I was probably going to prison. He found that amusing, but was glad I did it. If I end up in Virtual Prison, just rename me Anonymous, the Shriekback Agent. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I doubt I ever will again, unless I have to, and Shriekback is the only reason I’d be driven down that nefarious path again. Muahahaha!

Thanks to paisley_daze, with her brilliant idea of posting the video to Reddit, I am hoping I reached a lot more Shriek/Barry Andrews fans that I otherwise would not have. Why I never thought about Reddit earlier is one of those mysteries I may never solve. Oh wait, it’s because I’m a dink! Nevermind. And thank you again, Sweet Sophie.

Speaking of Shriekback, after I got my shower at Doug’s, I put on my last clean outfit that I’d kept out for the trip. I’d been saving it for last. I’m wearing one of the last good-fitting pairs of pants I own, so I won’t end up mooning San Diego trying to carry my booty into the new digs. And I’m also wearing the white Shriekback tee, with the multi-coloured logo on the front. It’s a small-cut large shirt that I bought on eBay aeons ago. When I got it, it was way too small for me, but I held on it with the thought of some day…some day. Well, that some day came just a handful of months ago after I lost all this weight, thanks to the grief and the ulcer. It’s now relatively loose on me.

So I’m rolling into the new town, sporting the Shriek logo on my torso. I can’t think of a more fitting way to announce my arrival, being Darth Shriek and all. I have no idea why I’ve always held some odd superstitions about clothes and what they may mean at certain times of wearing them, but there you go ~ that’s me. I intend to wear the ELO shirt that booraven22 sent me sometime in the first week of my abiding in San Diego. It’s a kind of unwritten rule that I must obey.

“Cry of the Celts” by Ronan Hardiman just came on iTunes. The last time I heard that song at night, on the road, was on Midsummer’s Eve in 1997, as I followed the Harpist out into the South Carolina wilds to stargaze after having ritual at Lord Ariel’s on Parris Mountain. It was one of the most Magickal, romantic moments in my life, and I will never forget it or stop treasuring it, even though I carry with the memory some amount of pain, because of all that happened afterward.

I don’t believe in many things in this world anymore, but I will always believe in the existence of love at first sight, because it happened to me on Bealtainne of that same year, and the Celtic night of Magick a month and half later, only confirmed for me that even someone as cynical as I was capable of experiencing something so profound and devastating as such a love.

And I will always be grateful to Lord Ariel for his match-making attempts, which were above and beyond the call of duty on his part. If I didn’t love him for anything else, and I do ~ for many things, I will always love him for that.

We just crossed over into California, and iTunes switched over to “Cult of Personality” by Living Colour. Pretty kickass! :D

After spending a day and a half under a bed at Doug’s, not eating or drinking, or going to the bathroom, Smidgen is feeling her oats here in the back seat of the truck. The night is a cat’s time, anyway, and her self-imposed exile because of her trepidation of Doug’s gigantic dogs, have left her acting like a wild woman. She’s calm right now, lying beside me just outside her travel case, looking around with giant eyes. At any moment, though, she could spazz out again and try to roam the cab, and that’s why I keep the leash on her at all times when we’re on the road. I can’t have her acting the fool and getting in Jeanne’s way of driving. That’s the last bloody thing I need, but especially Smidgen. It’s bad enough I had to wrestle her from under the bed to get her in her case – it was the first time ever that I’d ever had to be rough with her. And it’ll be the last time. And no one else will be rough with her. That would be like someone taking my infant child and punching her. Just…NOT. GONNA. HAPPEN.

I got about two hours of fitful sleep last night, and finally gave up and got up a little before 6 AM. So I was already running on empty, and now I’ve been awake for almost 24 hours puttering about on the empty tank. By the time we reach our destination, I’m going to be a zombie. Brains!

“The River Sings” by Enya is now on. The iTunes is choosing odd and compelling music to score the last leg of this journey. I haven’t listened to Enya or anything Celt-related, except for Janet Russell and Talitha MacKenzie, in ages. Do I take it as a sign? I’m not certain I’m comfortable with that route just yet, if ever. We’ll see. I know that b_bopper55 is hoping that I recapture that flame. It’s too soon to even explore that possibility, though. If I’m able to, I did bring all my tools, so I’m not ruling out such a thing. Again, we’ll see.

I just took iTunes off shuffle, ‘cos it lighted on a Peter Gabriel song, and I want to hear more than one of his at the moment. “Come Talk to Me” is currently on. Next up is “Mercy Street,” which is my favourite song by him. When I first started fashioning the bones of what would eventually become The Chalice, a lot of music by Peter Gabriel was instrumental in creating the needed atmosphere. “Mercy Street” in particular is a deeply Vampiric song for me. So many of my Vampires having the inclination to be spiritual and religious creatures can be traced right back to this song. I always thought the harmonies had a particularly eerie church choir feel to them, and I still do. There’s a live performance of this song on You Tube that starts out with the chorus of the song being sung a capella by Peter and his singers. It’s a religious experience unto itself. If I can remember to hunt for it when I have Internet access again, I’ll be sure to post it here on The Cliffs. It’s one of those performances that, once you’ve seen it, you realise your life was pretty incomplete for having not witnessed it sooner. At least, that’s how I felt.

The time is now 3:10. I’ll write more later, if given the chance.

San Diego, California
The time is now 7:30. The Mother Unit and I are spending the day at one of the local Motel 6’s in order to give Matt some extra time to clear up more space for my intrusive butt. It’s good, though, to finally be reunited with my Bald Boy Club-members. That’s a club Matt created a few years back, which is pretty much composed of anyone who owns one of his shirts. That would be four of us ~ haha. So yeah, he’s one of the roommates, and a pretty spiff dude, IMHO. Here’s pics of the new digs, one of the Mother Unit at the front door, and one of the founding member of the Bald Boy Club, resplendent in his members only tee.

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Before we parted ways, Jeanne apologised for being an ass. I decided to be amenable about it because, really, I don't need to start new in a city with bad blood from the get-go. I'll definitely watch my fur-babies around her, but I'm not going to turn all rancid immediately. Biting back like I did Monday night seemed to put a different perspective in our relationship, so we'll see how it goes.

And so ends the week-long account of El Move, at least the journey section of it. In the next few days, I’ll be writing more about getting things rebooted in this new world. Today, though, will more than likely consist of getting some rest, getting my bearings, and making a couple of calls to settle some business in SC, like where my gas refund check from Freeman is ~ ‘cos I could really freakin’ use that money right now…

Peace, Froods.