20110124

I have not been here for a while. They took me on a journey that is still winding down despite the abrupt halt. This is what happens when you start writing about the Fae and then stop when they take you. I am still considering that which they showed me. Unfortunately, the internal consideration is not what they crave. They expect an outward revelation to the world about their presence, being the vain creatures that they are. It is no small wonder that they have managed seclusion and disbelief from so many. I am guessing it is because of the all encompassing nature of their adventures that cease the impulse to record them.

20101222

I awoke thousands of miles away from home and closer to it than I have known in a while. I was far away from the bed I had been sleeping, traded for a couch in an in between place further from the middle enough to be on the outskirts of a new destination. They imbibed me with fermented cinnamon and made made offers difficult to refuse. The moon eclipsed, yet I did not see it. I was busy with the toxic shock of another.

Being this close I decided to continue on the journey. Nearing the place I grew up in the forest of my youth a lady informed me that the gremlins had eaten my brake lights. Only the bottom bar. There was no stopping me now. There was dinner there waiting for me. They gave me so much food that I took leftovers to the city to give to my best friend and his future wife. We drank beer, visited a house I have never been from a bar I did not like to go, and they ate a late night snack before allowing me residence on their dirty floor. We gave it a surface wipe and laid sheets on the stained cushions. This was the cleanest I had seen the place in a while.

At the bar an old enemy from her perspective and an insignificant from mine shot cold stares that barely scratched the external share of my care. In a place called home one has an equal amount of friends as they do those who dislike them. Home has people that you like and do not like you. Home has people you do not like but they do. Home has people you care for and know. Home has people you know and do not care for. There may even be people you do not know and have not yet learned to care for yet. I have not seen them all. Of course I will probably be here for a while.

20101212 – The Curse of Memory

They reminded me how spoiled I am from the experiences they have provided. I lived in a tent with them for three years. I studied with them on my shoulder for ten. I ran their castle in Houston for five. They took me to the dark side and the side of light and the places that they roam in the spaces in between. I am forever grateful and gratefully cursed. I can never live a normal life. My life has faeries in it. I have fallen in love with them and they have broken my heart as much as I have broken theirs.

Soon, I will be traveling back to their domain for the holidays. I hope to see some of the fellow travelers during my stay. Before this can happen they burden me with the blessed memories. They show me where I have been and my hopes are that this will lend clues to where I am going. My habit is to drop off the map and resurface with bigger and better, bolder and brighter adventure for all who are willing to participate. I am ready. Are they?

We can never go backward. Ben Harper sings about missing the good ole days, but he is glad they are gone. I am not so sure how I feel about that. There are points in time, moments I wish I could relive. Not that I would change anything. Maybe a couple of things. No. None of it. Just relive it exactly the way it happened. We take for granted those things while they are in the present and long for them when they are past. We look forward to the future when we should be appreciating the right now. I am trying. Right now is always the hardest.

20101211

They have not been kind today. They must be mad at me. There is something they wanted me to do today, but I could not figure it out.

The internet went on the fritz. It is DSL and already slow anyway. Not this slow. Gremlins must have chewed the phone lines down the hill. The Whisps tattled in the ears of my neighbors to tie up the lines with cable television and long distance calls. None of them were calling me. My Netflix instant watch queue ran too slow to play. I could neither write nor twist wire, which is probably what they wanted me to do in the first place. So, I cleaned the refrigerator while it loaded. It needed doing.

It took all day to watch one episode of Stargate. I figured they might not like the direction the show is going, although this is absurd. It was the one where Daniel ascends into a ball of light with the faerie creature from the Buddhist world. They have always liked that race in the past. I did not know what was different about today. I switched my viewing pleasures to season 2 of Dollhouse. The same results occurred.

I tried to read, but they locked my book up in a detention center for criminal boys and made me indifferent to starting a new one. The other book I am trying to get into is just not very good. The pictures are pretty. The words are uninteresting.

I tried to eat. They gave me hiccups.

As a last resort I write this blog.

Hopefully this appeases their own appetites. The fae folk can be fickle vain creatures. Giving them the slightest attentions and they crave more. Remember what happened to Lady Cottingham. She was driven mad from a young age by the pixies leaping into her flower pressing book onward into adulthood.

They craft their ultimatums and elicit their demands in subtle tones that we sometimes cannot understand. When we do not comply they get jealous and angsty and devious rather than cunning. When we do they reward us with adventure or beauty or phone calls from lovers far away.

20101209 – Shooting Stars Falling

The moon was out to a sliver, the sky was clear, and the stars were falling. Another faerie landed from space. They were not visiting me today. They were visiting my friends from far away, whispering in their ears to call me. They knew I felt alone. Probably without knowing it was advice of the fae, they called. We talked for hours. Some were just saying hello.

A man moves away from his wife and children to a house in the city with a roommate. He sees his daughter only once in a while, once a week, but a week for the man when concerned with his daughter is a while. A brother stops a midnight car with his broken face. The crazed driver was fired from the bar and the mother of the brother drives him crazy. Recklessly and fully wrecked she hopped the curb breaking his wrist and bruising his bruised spine. An uncle is dying. This may be his last christmas. A best friend cannot be with his best friend on his birthday. They like the guy she is dating, but unfortunately, this means she will not be dating him much longer.

These are the shooting stars. Where once they were held so high in the night, they have fallen back to earth.

20101208 – Libraries and Galleries, Home of the Wyld Women

It was the first time I visited the library in this small southwestern Colorado college town. Libraries are a place the faeries love to visit. Being conceitedly vain creatures they like to flaunt around their media exposure as much as the red carpet attendees of the Golden Globe Award ceremonies. Libraries and art museums, book stores and small galleries, studies and portraits above the fireplace or in a secluded spot near the kitchen nook are the places you may find them. The young adult sections have grown as accustomed to their teeny bodies as the children’s picture book literature, the poetry, and now even the erotica sections house a multitude of sexual encounters with the mystical sects. This is where I met the Wyld Women.

The Wyld Women tribe performed for an audience within his head. They explored the grammatical similitude of sleeping cats and commas, the pause and the paws, a quick breath in an afternoon nap. They told me about the houses where witches meet, characters as much as any other sentient being in a story. Tales of soft erotica. How gnomes use trickery although they are condemned for doing so, only making their magic slyer. One preached doom and gloom, the foreboding nature of being a mother, helplessly watching your children grow older, become adults, leave the nest and form their own to perpetuate the cycle.

An audience of fellow women thumbed through their pages. They were startled initially by my male energy, but subsided into acceptance of that presence, returning to the words of the page. Eventually, they invited me to their table to sup Barley wine from goblets and talk about sweat lodges, the family, dating, flowers, and churches. No matter the religion, faeries like churches in the same way they like libraries and galleries. They offered to take me to some. The Wyld Women had colorful names like Indigo and Skye and Melon. They split from Articluation when it became the Ground Up. We laughed and pondered and argued with good nature. They vowed to meet with me once more and maybe even more after that.

“We will meet again,” they said, bowing their heads and taking leave of this feast in conversation. They had Hanukkah candles to dance around this night.

20101207 – Gremlins ate my SUV

The gremlins ate my SUV. A headlight burnt out. The headlights have been giving me trouble ever since I replaced them with the cheapest brand I could find. Driving back and forth along mountain roads with ridges and no street lights with the inexpensive ones provided little to see the twisting curves up the hill. On more than one occasion the brights saved countless forest creatures from an early demise by the capabilities of my metal demon. When the blue meanies pulled me over to inform me the driver’s side was no longer in working luminescence, I paid the extra for the best and brightest. Too bad the gremlins got to the actual circuit connection.

I spent the day taking things apart and putting them back together to install the new connector without a battery to shock me. To double my precautions I wore rubber gloves. Still this did not work. Either the splicing of the wires is not sound, the polarity is switched, or there is something wrong deeper into the circuit board. Damn those gremlins.