Semi-Daily Scribbles

Year of the Rabbit

Curiosity is no crime. Language barrier? No such thing. But from time to time we wander into uncertain terrain. Let us hope we've crossed paths with an opportunity to learn and make a new friend. The alternative evokes images of a cookfire with a pot of something simmering in need of a good tater or two.

Itinerary

There are lots of activities and attractions to keep you busy when you come visit H-ville:

Second-run movies and weekend swap meets at the Prairie View Drive-In.
Breakfast specials at the Chik'n & Biskit.
High School!
McAllister's Flowers.
Hanging out down by Cathedral Rocks along the Samson River.
Keggers in The Woods!
Hiking along Authority Ridge up to the alpine meadows.
Mountain Goats!
Drownings.
Unfortunate run-ins with wild animals.
Lost hikers.
Missing sisters.
Talking owls.
The Center of All Creation.
The Steps of Death!
Apple Harvest Festival Queen & Court.
Courtroom appearances.
Secluded rentals.
Herbal Procurement.
Roadside confessional.
Come Live Among the Sentinels!
Stay for a day but live year-round in H-ville.
Just passing through.
Picturesque Olde Growth!
Youth leave town and never come back.
River Guide and Fishing Excursions.
Watch the locals weave their ancient traditions.
Hearts & Souls on display in a museum.
Snatch up trinkets made to unreliably remember the past!
No one is forgotten in a town lost to memory.
Favored Sons are Always Protected!
DNA found everywhere but no one's come looking.

In Memoriam.

Too Much and Not Enough

I should hope one would think he or she is interesting. If a person doesn't have that sort of opinion of oneself, all sorts of unfortunate occurrences can happen, like hearing a nonstop self-censure loop booming inside an already thought-heavy head. Oh, and if a person does find him/herself pleasant company to be around, that happily self-actualized individual should not foist any such presumption of that dearly held belief upon family and friends.
---You just groove inside your Private Opinion Bubble, buddy!---
Any such foisting of one's actually REAL self only muddies the sensitive depths of YOU and makes a gal or guy look like an imbecilic navel-gazer.
... and who wants to be perceived in that way?

The Other Side of Fear

In the time it took for the blood to soak through the yellow V-neck, Micah was able to enjoy a satisfying drag off a Camel. The thumb and forefinger of Micah's non-ciggy-holding hand caressed the slip of notebook paper tucked inside the front pocket of his Levi's.

"Individuality. Absolute power and ability. Discipline. Individuality. Absolute power and ability. Discipline. Individuality. Absolute power and ability. Discipline." The cadence that escaped Micah's lips slowed his racing thoughts. He became less fidgety as he inhaled the sweet astringency of the cedars and firs that encircled him. This is what church was meant to be. The creature beneath his feet sighed in agreement.

She is your dreamcatcher and safety net. Her smile is the other side of the river once you've filled your lungs with her lesson. The target has been verified. That prize is now the only thing that can keep you alive in order to transform. Allow your discipline to spin hopelessly out of control so you know what she felt at the moment of initiation. What are you afraid of? The peace of mind that's always been your birthright? Your talents are only tarnished, not lost. Love is a vehicle to teach us to suffer without dying. The heart always knows what the soul fears to find. In the end, we all wind up wet behind the ears.

Vergissmeinnicht

Slivers of ancient pillars that break the cloud's back are embedded in my sweater. Scratches on my hands bloom into forget-me-nots. Have I been walking unawares again under the midnight canopy? No one can see me. Not like this.

Small Disturbances

Darkness has fallen over a small town, and only the barn owl out for a moonlight snack can view the 360° from its perch in a Doug fir. With a half revolution of its snowy head, that old hooter sees a boy hunch his shoulders; sees a boy crouch. The boy stands up straight, then bends at the waist, twists his torso, stomps his feet. A boy holds a big stick with both fists and brings it down hard toward the ground. The forest floor writhes as the quiet night screams a name over and over and over again.

techno dada

We're like feral children coming up in here. Raised by wolves. Literally. Now all this stimuli and rush of new experiences and feelings about what is really happening (which #1: WHAT is really happening? And #2: Feelings are things we can't even describe let alone understand because before we were, like, on all fours foraging for food and keeping tails tightly tucked between legs) is so foreign that we're standing here in all this light with our lips forming little puckered "O" shapes and maybe a squeak-type sound coming out of us and knowing, just "Knowing" this is a whole new world entirely than the shady boughs from whence we came.

The Art of the Cards

Olympia The Owl wishes one and all a splendid Winter Solstice. Olympia also wants to share she's mad as hell over some scuzzy creature having reached its filthy paws into her letterbox and stealing the seasonal greetings her Aunties sent to her from far beyond the Purple Mountains. She hopes the thief choked on the woody fibers of the beautifully crafted, talonmade Christmas cards Olympia looks forward to receiving each year. Thoroughly put off by cheery thoughts of sugarmice and piney spice after the post was stolen, Olympia steeled herself in order to complete her Solstice notes. Next on the greeting card list was her gorgeous yet clingy friend, Octavia the Octopus. In her fashion, Olympia thought and jotted, scribbled and scratched several sentences before coming up with the perfect holiday sentiment:

     Don’t ride the raft of contentment indefinitely. “Go with the flow” only works once you’ve made a course correction first. Otherwise, count the barnacles that grow in your soft spot and accept your fate as lost treasure beneath the waves.

After signing, sealing and posting via airmail, Olympia winged her way to an appointment in a ramshackle barn, confident she'd be able to smooth her feathers, raise her vibration and get back her festive Decemberness.

Down By the Old Swoop & Roost

Just when I say I'll get a new lens to look through (in the hopes of seeing something new) a bird (a big one with a 6-foot wingspan) swoops out of nowhere (o.k. - swoops down from the snag I walk by every a.m.) and squawks in my face:

     "It's like this, little chicken; you'll see what I tell you to see now I've got you on my obstacle course. You won't have much skin left on your knees once we're finished, but your character will be scrubbed clean. Laugh and don't look back. This here's Initiation Time."

Fine. One foot in front of the other. No expectations, no attachments, no memories bobbing in soft golden light to offer me comfort. Who am I to pass up the chance to be pushed around by a large, winged creature? There are, after all, more painful ways to test one's faith.

Faithful & Safe

A one-way fandom
The passive act of dreamspeak
Vicarious Me

Injurious You
Reflections make safe idols
A warped and torn faith