strange luck

Strange luck before the full moon on the thirty of July, in the early hours of the morning. I went out into the night to the front porch, sat down on the stairs where I met an open silence. Then I saw a shape out by the curb and went down to investigate. A lacquered wooden table tall with one drawer with a knob with emerald etching, someone put out for the taking. A fine object, I thought, one would have to be out of their mind to turn such a piece out on the street. The gods are with me tonight! With all my might I lifted and carried it home. I put it in the kitchen where it stands, this table, and walking around it I felt calm and centered, observing its quality. I went into the study with a mind toward the interior design, and pushed the area around. Then I heard a noise and saw a small plastic box fall to the ground. I picked it up and soon realized what I had done, knocked into the little cube which one plugs into an outlet to fit a usb connection. I got down and saw the circuitry exposed, and went to replace the plastic box over it -- a flash of light and sound and sensation -- I jumped back and stood up with the surge of electricity in me,  the casing fell again to the floor. A strange feeling came over me; what if that had been the end? Surely, I thought, the gods are with me tonight! Strange luck on the approach of a full moon on the thirty of July.

LA and DV and ADDICTION

Draft material from the Daughter of Darkness series...

(this chapter refers to Maze's mother and family)




" LA was a long way from here, but his mom was a short distance to his heart. She was a social worker and worked to help women like herself escape from situations and cycles of domestic violence. She was the shoulder to cry on that she never had. She had a fine memory of her own necessary flight from danger, and the hundreds of half-baked efforts which preceded the determination she ultimately summoned to leave half her offspring in the hands of God and her sisters to look after. The kisses on their little heads. The telling them it was gonna be okay, when she herself was not convinced. The every little setback she encountered on her traveling up and across the border and into the suck of American culture, had her pining, sometimes bodily, to return to her many loves. Her family. All spoiled by one splendid scoundrel and fool who knew only how to transmit his self-hatred by beating on the one who loved him the most. He considered her a permanent fool for being permanently smitten with him. What was he worth? He considered himself, like his father before him, to be garbage. The more he beat her in the alcoholic stupor, the more he hated himself. The more he hated himself, the greater a fool she became for standing by him. So he would make her suffer, and prove himself right about both of them. Never worried and never conjuring any image of what life might be like if she grew a spine and left him. Which is why he went on his own mental vacation and never returned, after she did. He could smile and laugh at anything. The anger was gone. He no longer needed a home or anyone to support. He could see his remaining kids and not recognize them, somehow. Yes, it was sad. But the strange way he reacted made the depths of his loss a bit easier to bear. For now the people called him smiling old man, with nothing to smile about. "

Impressions? Keep it or lose it?
You can read Book One of this series here... Grand Theft Life

a star obsolete

I am so sad and there's nothing I can do, well that's not true, I can do my nails and take a shower, I can get dressed and go to work, I can glue myself together and hope that it will hold, yet, sometimes I feel I am headed for a break, like just the other day when my world had turned grey and I fought back the tears and so misunderstood, it took all that I could not to go back and fight, but to give up on the chance to make things all right... yes, it was right around then as I pulled to the curb, slow-cooked my head and sat there disturbed, as the breeze off the delta came whipping around, that I said to myself in a scared voice asking god, is it gunning for me, my psychotic break? Will I sink to the bottom of this salt water lake? I could feel my heart was not into the commitment of losing my mind to starfish and brine, I could feel that my heart preferred to stay sad maybe shocked after my spirit got clocked and devastated so quickly, after such a good run before sands got so shifty.

The only big difference I saw from the past, the last time a friend dropped me hard on my ass, was my own situation how far I have come, 'cause back then I was full of nonsense and chewing gum, unable to work and basically done, no longer young, cold-spirited idle and sometimes suicidal. And the friend and ex-lover whom I lost at that time, carries all those qualities still so I can see through her how I have changed, how that is no longer me. But I don't need to look back anymore or compare, I don't need to be faced with a mirror and stare, to know how I have stretched for my dreams to this place, it's written in my eyes, it's visible in my face, but more essentially woven into my whole character, and though I may fall back upon self-treacherous times, in a moment subdued by a flashback or heartache, and go into madness and anger and venom, and say things I long since stopped saying, and panic and fear and confusion can enter the room... I am essentially goodness and warmth and white light, by noon I will have come out of the darkest of night, and back to my senses and self and clarity, the departure of all fear, weakness and irregularity, where in the cool silence of my study I see, my journey is there, patiently waiting for me...this may not be so, but I hope so to dream of a chance to shine if only to be a lighthouse standing tall, for all the ships out there heading straight for disaster, may I at very least be a star obsolete to guide you, an aster.

under an influence

I wonder about changes in perception a lot, in myself and other people. I love to be under the influence of marvelous ideas, and my perception of the world changes when I am immersed in the creative process; time becomes more pressing, life becomes more valuable, and a lot of toxicity is flushed from my system. I could be under the influence of a particular process, or a particular person, or a particular substance, or a particular form, or a particular place, or even a particular recurring dream or nightmare. Then there are collective influences like war, music, drugs, politics, books, coffee, environment, food, culture. Strange things happen when perceptions become altered and altered perceptions become new accepted norms and their own reality. I find myself taken aback almost yet always curious when confronted with various subcultures. There is the experience of being under the spell with others (immersion). Or being outside looking into (visiting) a subculture. There are the subcultures which we subconsciously accept (internalize) and those we reject. Change rolls in and covers a former way of being, and may sometimes obscure and distort, exaggerate or undermine what we know to be true. The truth becomes difficult to pinpoint.

All I know is it is hard and painful at times to be up against a subculture that I am not part of (rejection is too strong a word). If I walk down skid row, I will feel pain. If I go to a political convention, I will have trouble relating. If my friends are all on methadone (or any other drug), there may be something they are perceiving which I am missing, or something they are misperceiving which I am getting. This is curious to me. And how and why I would feel pain? I guess it is partially that my perception of reality is being undermined (rejection is too strong a word), and not really consciously. Usually subconsciously. When faced with a conscious rejection of my reality, recently, I stood up for myself -- I literally stopped my car and told the person to get out. I think they thought I was joking but I was not. We were only about a thousand yards from the destination, so it was not like I was stranding them. But it was a very painful split.

All I know is it is better to tread carefully and not reject anything completely out of hand, for I have felt the tremendous pain of having my world rejected out of hand and it feels terrible and violent to me. I would not like to impart this feeling on anyone, ever. But outside of personal relations and differences, how do we handle collective influences like war and indiscriminate violence? Aren't these also part of human nature, part of human experience? How then can I reject them? How can I not? IDK - I just wanna tread carefully and watch myself, and try and form and adhere to a personal code, so that I don't get swamped by my subconscious. But I cannot control my subconscious, that's why it is sub: under the surface goings on! But I do believe that what I am doing, consciously, every day, over and over, makes a tremendous imprint on my character. So this I can consciously control. And try and remain flexible in my self as reality goes through its changes and shifts around. Nobody wants to be left behind! But there is one thing remains eternal for me and always hopeful and refreshing, I believe, and this is the creative process. So I continue on, despite adversity and rejection and mistakes I have made. I am in constant search of a greater creative community of caring and sharing, enlarging upon this can only make life more worth living.

we search ourselves at risk

In this life there are people who may be unable to understand you or what it is your trying to accomplish, and how you go about getting there. There are people who may be disrespectful toward you, or worse. If your paths have crossed by some intended accident, and you have had a good run at it as friends, well, your run may have run out. When the end comes we can feel lost and confused, hurt and resentful, misunderstood. Some things were not built to last. When I am by myself in the quiet and calm of my home, I try and think of the best times I had with anybody like that. Then, if I am still hurting by another air raid from bombs dropped on my head, I try and remember who I am and why other people seem to love me through it all, this life, while some cannot and never will and that is how it goes. If I find the need to untangle the elusive truth of any matter -- to settle it once and for all so my mind can rest -- I can walk myself through what happened and focus not on what was said between us but what was done. And there may I find anything approaching the truth, for normal self-seeking prejudice and pride can neither stand up to the evidence before me then. Feelings cannot discolor facts. And I can only hope that I took right action, for we search ourselves at risk! You cannot escape your behavior. It is a humbling experience to lose friends, for sure, and everyone will go through it and most of us will go through it many times over. If you find yourself malicious with words, it is a good idea to go silent.

Today I came into the dawn with one less hand to hold. Troubling words were exchanged over the course of recent weeks which left me lost and confused. I saw the turmoil of my emotions and how I gave voice to many troubling feelings and it was not always pretty. Last night I spent with close friends I have known for over twenty years, who were in town from Chicago with their young son and daughter. They camped in my backyard. I introduced the three year old to Lucky Charms, and now he cannot get enough. I was fortunate to hold a child on my knee. Then we said goodbye and I was back on my own. I had already gone silent on the dead sea of dead ends, because all I had to say anymore was selfish and useless. Instead I prayed for relief from that pain in my heart. And I took the risk. Then I took a long afternoon nap, and it was restful. And I woke up and sat up from bed and was scared coming back into the world without that old hand to hold. But a calm came over my spirit like no other! For I have been true. I have been true!

when i hurt i want you to feel hurt too sometimes

I know not where you live
i live here
in the heart of my head
in the heart of creation
in the heart of disaster

dawn by KatYa

in the heart

i know not how you live
i live here

recklessly in relation
bubbling into air
scratching recreation

falling
off glass

here

i know not why
i am passionately
uninvolved

- KatYa

WIP - developing tension

Nobody wants to read a book of fiction that lacks tension. My immediate efforts as I prepare my latest in my Urban Fantasy series - MAZE (Book #2) - involve setting up central and peripheral tensions. I want to have both internal and external conflicts mapped out (outlined), and then freewriting can help determine what happens when the characters actually come up against one another. Sometimes you have relationship stuff (eros) and sometimes you have survival stuff (thanatos), I see Eros as the love or sex drive, whereby characters are wanting to merge with other characters. Thanatos is the death drive, whereby characters are wanting to eliminate anyone who threatens their survival. My central character, Ame, is falling in love in Book 2. She is also learning to hunt down humans, not to kill them, because they have something she wants and knows how to extract. Her internal conflict, in basic terms, involves her relationship with herself. In psychology this is called 'ego-dystonic' (as opposed to ego-syntonic): parts of yourself you are not comfortable with. Ame is learning to hunt to survive, and has been taught by her native people, the 'Delux' (Latin for 'of light'), how to master this art. It can be violent and can result in human death, but not always. Ame was adopted and raised by humans, so she is about to experience an identity crisis of sorts (which will carry on far beyond Book #2). She does not want to see harm come to humans, but at the same time there is a thirst and an appetite for destruction in her with which she must contend.