* I have found a house up on the Oregon coast...and D says that if it's still on the market in November...we can go take a look!! Still very, very tentative but I'm excited. My aunt had a beach house on the Atlantic when I was a child. I can't even really begin to IMAGINE owning a beach house. It's beyond all my wildest life fantasies.
* One life lesson I am reluctantly learning is that LIFE IS SHORT. This is such a platitude and yeah yeah short...live for today blah blah....but there is this deeply wounding TRUTH under that glibism. LIFE IS FUCKING SHORT. There is no "right" time to do any thing, not a god-damned thing. And if you choose that route, you will regret it. To the depths of your shaking soul.
* Still mad mad madly in love with Matt Bell. Reading his collection of short stories now and they are all hurting my feelings. SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO amazing. My feelings HURT. Also reading the Jungian Marie Von-Franz's On Dreams & Death and of course that is even more amazing than Bell's insane prose. So, it's all crazy here right now.
* And thinking about my own writing. Hades has just spied his Persephone, modern dress -
His dreams had always been nightmares. White and grey illuminated horrorscapes. Endless landscapes littered with hybrid human machines. Churning seas of black bloodied desecration, body parts washing ashore upon a beach of pulverized bone. Laboratory experiments wrought on God's helpless creatures by maddened scientists with steel fingerbones wearing sadistic lab coats for skinsuits. Miscarried fetuses, mouths gaping in grief, eyes fastened on the witnesses to their gasping endings. These were his dreams before that morning. After that morning, he only dreamt of her. But then his sleeping dreams migrated into darkling daydreams; her beautiful face and feminine figure distorted through the twisted torture chamber that was his unconscious.
He stood on the treeline edge of the meadow, the morning sun tricking the mind with its rising. The earth spinning beneath his booted feet. Summer very nearly spent, lying sated in the long grasses. But that was just a poetic turn inside his mind as he watched her undress and pose for the camera. When Muth hiked back down to his car for the bottled Pelligrino and a different light diffuser, she laid her body down, in the long dried grasses and the clodded dirt. Her skin was tanned golden and the silver deflector had been casting her in too cold a reflection. He stood, breath held, daylight voyeur of her blonde hair, the sun-bleached hairs on her arm and the nape of her neck when she lifted the waist-length hair with both hands, the blue eyes that matched the color of the sky. He had to purse his lips to keep from panting.
He felt overwhelmed. By an emotion he was not familiar with and therefore could not name. His body told him it was lust, but his heart had bowed down, supplicated itself before this goddess. He knew there must be a price for spying the unaware nude virgin, but he was willing to pay it, all of it, with blood and bone and semen. With reverence and worship. He wanted to sacrifice, to make offerings, to fall prostrated.
She did not see him. At first.
* THIS is my favourite cut on the album....and has moved into my top 5 fave songs of Nick's ever. It is a mature and studied version of the intense young Nick songs which drew me to him decades ago. I've always wanted some Nick lyrics tattooed...and now I'm mulling over some lines here with Saturn and her rings?
This is the moment
This is exactly what she was born to be
And this is what she does
And this is what she is
* Autumn has FINALLY arrived and I hope it brings me some renewed passion for the things I once was so passionate about but which this long summer seems to have stripped me of. Fall and Winter are my months. I am already waking from a dream-filled sleep at five, and that's something I want to continue...get up, write for a few hours until my boss wakes up, and then move into the day. I feel grey. It's a strange sensation for me especially in this long-running way.
* D brought me home an offering this week. It is....disturbing....so behind a cut. Trigger warning for sad tragic dead creatures.
( dead things that sufferedCollapse )
And here's a very funny joke -
The scene is North Africa, at the height of fierce battles in World War II. An Australian junior officer meets a British senior officer on the front line. “Good morning young man,” says the British officer, “Did you come here to die?”
“No Sir,” replies the young Australian, “I came yesterday”.
* Consumed with Cave as of late. It's almost his birthday. Enjoy this old picture -
The main chara in The Kettering Incident is always wearing a Saints t-shirt. Nick and Chris recorded a song together many moons ago. When it was suggested they make an accompanying video, Nick asked, what's on MTV? What do Americans like? And the answer was T&A. So here ya go -
* The sexton is returning from three states away to begin the burial proceedings.
* D has been itching for a major landscaping change around the house. Driving up to the mountain lake the other day cemented his resolve. I'm still mulling it over. But...he wants to rip it all out. Period, end of story. Mmmmm. This is and is not a ton of plants and hardscape. Some of the plantings are about thirty years old, some "feel" natural to the woods and the elevation, and some don't. Most of the landscaping struggles because of the clay soil and the seasons. I get his vision - sparse, natural forest. We did attempt this about four years ago when we opted to let the lawn go wild, go to meadow. It failed. So, that part of the inneryard is a mess. We also attempted to let the blackberries grow wild(er) and again, failure. Plus it drew the deer. We also have river rock flower beds and rock paths and lots of dirt where the dogs have destroyed the ground cover. D wants all of the domestic plantings ripped out, the conifers limbed up, the paths relined, and bark and pea gravel put down. He also wants more hardscaping and a fire pit. For colour and bloom, he says pots. And I think he's right. The potted plants grow fabulously well and are healthy. Plants in this poor soil struggle and are stunted in comparison to their potted brethren. So....it's a new project.
* Working on my story/character arcs and I have had to come to the place in which I admit that everything I write is a Tragedy. For some reason, that has staggred me a bit.
* For an "unlistenable" album, I can't listen to anything else -
* We drove up to a moderately-sized lake the other day. I'm in longing for some sort of second home, a retreat. I know, I know, I already live in the deep woods...and I'm not sure where this NEED is arising....but, I'm feeling it. So, a lake within an easy few hours' drive....but, alas, it wasn't for us. I want the ocean. I have penciled in an Oregon coast house-hunting trip for next spring. Or maybe mid-November....
Anyway, we did find a wonderful OLD teensy town on the tip of the lake and in that small enclave was this amazing little cemetery. A few photos under the cut and the rest are over at mourning_souls.
( Read more...Collapse )
* Sad news this morning about my neighbor passing away yesterday. I just spent two hours with her and her husband two weeks ago. We are currently trying to collect more vintage photographs for the Historical Society. She had such great photos and stories! Her family has been here since the early 1900's. When my friend and I left, we agreed we would have to rertun with the video camera and conduct a small interview. She and her husband were asking us how they can rent the association building for their 60th wedding anniversary in December.
* Yes *ahem* I am still doing some volunteering for the community.
* I think....we are going to take the plunge and get satellite tv. Drop netflix and see if there isn't somefuckenthing we can watch on 158 channels. The cost is giving us pause....but we currently get four channels and three of those are PBS and it's just not enough. Netflix is a wasteland. What flisters have cable/satellite and are happy with the investment?
* I am writing! I feel good about separating my two stories and things are flowing much more smoothly now.
* Kidling1 has been asked to volunteer as the ASL guide at the Frank Lloyd Wright house! I think that's very cool.
It's terrible to see humility on his face. He's always been private and fierce and incredibly above it all. A true rock god.
I hope that the film and this album make him a few years' worth of salary. I really do.
* Writing has slowed down because I'm back in planning mode. I've got Scrivener open with this "new" story and trying to storyboard it, and arc it, and flesh out the characters. I'm focusing now on fictionalizing the Giger/Lo love affair and using Persephone/Hades as the cloaking metaphor. It feels good to map it out, it feels bad to not be coaxing any words onto the page. I'm also toying around with my crazy assed witch baby story. I want to send that off to one of these dark 'zines.
* My mother wants to fly to upstate New York for Christmas. I'm not sure what my response should be to that. I don't know if my father could even attempt it. But...it's strange to think we might be doing the holiday alone.
* So, because of today's 'que the pool is heated! Deliciousness! I got up early early and swam for an hour and it was just decadent. I wish all of you could jump in, too! Another summer has passed us by and we are only two trees down in relation to putting in a solar pool heater. NEXT YEAR, we are promising ourselves.
* Seriously considering a full leg tattoo piece to add to my Durer angels, more Durer angels and woodcut-style background...and maybe angelic script? I want a modified Klimt Death on the other leg....I need to go down the hill and talk to my guy.
* Listening pretty much non-stop to the new Cave. It's...unlistenable. At least without crying and becoming utterly panicked and lost. Even with his reassurance that "It's alright now", it really just isn't. At all. He's lost his faith. And yet, this work is so very him. It's all bewildering and terrible. I'm not able to coherently think about this album. But perhaps it isn't about that. It's about FEELING.
Jesus Fucking Christ.
There's just too much pain in the world. Peace is over for this man.
RIP Arthur Cave.
Nothing really matters. O' that night we wrecked like a train. Nothing really matters anymore.
* It cooled off here over Labor Day weekend and even though it's warming back up down in the valley....I think that we might have tipped over into the beginnings of fall up here. The nights are COOL and the days very comfortable. I doubt we'll see the high hot temps again this year. We have ZERO wood in because we turned the wood shed into a potting shed and the mule shed into the wood shed and now we need to get the cords stacked in the new wood shed.
Still a work-in-progress. I need to prime and paint all the rafters the same red as the roof and then finish staining the rest of the small shed black. Also, move the wood jeep and put the potting bench in there. The black has mellowed over the past few weeks and now I'm back to mulling over doing all the buildings black next year.
I've also, FINALLY, decided that we are going to replace all the floors downstairs. So, there's that. And that's a good thing.
* I stopped reading. I had to, it was making me a crazed myopic inward-staring fool. Of course, I now have found my Beloved in Matt Bell, and I have his entire small ouevre on order and WILL devour it when it comes, but that will be it for a while. But I did read a metric tonne of books in the last month. Just last week I read Holly Black's The Poison Eaters *no*, Jeffrey Eugenides's Virgin Suicides *yes*, the Matt Bell *genuflect*, and a bunch of Persephone/Hades for children.
* Trying to find a new TV show. We've begun Witches: A Century of Murder. So far so aggravatingly good. Also, netflix has Destiny streaming right now and you should watch that.
* Inspired by the Witches, I have begun a short story -
( darkness is hereCollapse )
* I have also been writing in earnest on my modern myth(s). Yes, plural. After much internal wrestling and external time-wasting, I have accepted that these are two very distinct stories. One is a long short piece and the other is perhaps a novella? So, I'm back into the dregs with that. It's good. It's better. I'm becoming disciplined and that's helping anchor my days.
* How are you all?!
* I think part of my current "block" with writing is that I've seen The Holy Grail of words....and my writing seems pointless now. OMFG. It's disheartening, of course, but also an amazing experience in that this is the book that I've been waiting for. For YEARS. Matt Bell - In The House Upon the Dirt Between the Lake and The Woods. This is dark, dark, dark, heady lyrical DARK stuff. I'm not kidding, so don't consider this a rec unless you are drawn to early Cormac McCarthy, Michael Gira, and Nick Cave. But it's so glorious. I can only read it in short, sharp bursts before I need to leap up and run around my house tearing at my hair and beating my chest.
* Waiting with sadness and trepidation for Nick Cave's new album being released this coming Friday. After the tragedy -