wrap'n'roll it..

O i know i should be writing, i'm past due by my own schedule for a post. But the past two weeks have been such exhausting fun all i want to do is sit here. Maybe even watch some movin' pitchers in that funny squawking box in the other room - and if i want *that*, gentle reader, you may know that i am tired indeed, for such things hold but little amusement for me as a rule.

What is it i have done since last i posted, to weary me so? If one can but believe it, i can scarce recall; i know only that it has been the holidays, and there have been many parties, and it seems i attended them all. Thereby at last turning me into one of the Bronte sisters, apparently. Next thing you know i shall take to my bed in the garrett, not to rise til spring or perhaps at all; the consumption having gotten me at the last.

Well a well, then, if that be not it.. then i suppose i spent four nights a week in the most horrendously pink dress i ever sewed (what was i thinking at the time?!), my hair in pigtails, belting out "Sow Took the Measles" in my best bad country drawl. i - oh! - i did two craft shows, my first in months. i attended two friend's holiday parties, another friend's 40th birthday bash, and a gathering of Clepunks/former WCSB jocks at Prosperity Social Club. i sat, freezing, on my porch to watch the lunar eclipse, got my picture taken on Hovaclause's lap, went caroling on Xmas Eve, had an open house (with full turkey dinner) at Chez Wufkitn on the 25th, got wow-ed at the Project "R" DVD release party at the Center for Rock Research, and finally saw the greatest Xmas band in the world, Missile Toe. And it hasn't even *been* Christmas with my family, yet. i guess maybe i have good reason to be tired.

i don't know if i need to break those down much further. i'd like to shift, in the hopefully-near future, to doing one 'wrap-up' post like this, and then giving the details in smaller posts made every other day or so; but that won't really work til i have full, regular internet access again. And honestly, i don't know if i have the time to keep up with that much blogging, although as my tendency is to write one big SPLAT of a post i'm hoping i can still do that then edit it into bite-sized pieces.

i also am likely going to start a second blog. Yes, i know, i was just saying i don't have time enough for this one - what, am i crazy? Well yes, but never mind all that. i feel like i'm beginning to get a focus with this one, something i lacked when i began it. i want the second blog as a place to put my more metaphysical ramblings, which will likely happen much more sporadically; and keep this one as an outlet for my art/craft/theater/performing etc activities.

And so with that, my small but cherished band of faithful readers, i shall take my leave of you, ne'er to be seen again until Father Kronos has once again passed away and been replaced by his newborn child-self - which is to say next year, for the less mythically-minded amongst you. May your days be merry and your toes be warm, and i shall see you in 2011!

wrap'n'roll it..

O i know i should be writing, i'm past due by my own schedule for a post. But the past two weeks have been such exhausting fun all i want to do is sit here. Maybe even watch some movin' pitchers in that funny squawking box in the other room - and if i want *that*, gentle reader, you may know that i am tired indeed, for such things hold but little amusement for me as a rule.

What is it i have done since last i posted, to weary me so? If one can but believe it, i can scarce recall; i know only that it has been the holidays, and there have been many parties, and it seems i attended them all. Thereby at last turning me into one of the Bronte sisters, apparently. Next thing you know i shall take to my bed in the garrett, not to rise til spring or perhaps at all; the consumption having gotten me at the last.

Well a well, then, if that be not it.. then i suppose i spent four nights a week in the most horrendously pink dress i ever sewed (what was i thinking at the time?!), my hair in pigtails, belting out "Sow Took the Measles" in my best bad country drawl. i - oh! - i did two craft shows, my first in months. i attended two friend's holiday parties, another friend's 40th birthday bash, and a gathering of Clepunks/former WCSB jocks at Prosperity Social Club. i sat, freezing, on my porch to watch the lunar eclipse, got my picture taken on Hovaclause's lap, went caroling on Xmas Eve, had an open house (with full turkey dinner) at Chez Wufkitn on the 25th, got wow-ed at the Project "R" DVD release party at the Center for Rock Research, and finally saw the greatest Xmas band in the world, Missile Toe. And it hasn't even *been* Christmas with my family, yet. i guess maybe i have good reason to be tired.

i don't know if i need to break those down much further. i'd like to shift, in the hopefully-near future, to doing one 'wrap-up' post like this, and then giving the details in smaller posts made every other day or so; but that won't really work til i have full, regular internet access again. And honestly, i don't know if i have the time to keep up with that much blogging, although as my tendency is to write one big SPLAT of a post i'm hoping i can still do that then edit it into bite-sized pieces.

i also am likely going to start a second blog. Yes, i know, i was just saying i don't have time enough for this one - what, am i crazy? Well yes, but never mind all that. i feel like i'm beginning to get a focus with this one, something i lacked when i began it. i want the second blog as a place to put my more metaphysical ramblings, which will likely happen much more sporadically; and keep this one as an outlet for my art/craft/theater/performing etc activities.

And so with that, my small but cherished band of faithful readers, i shall take my leave of you, ne'er to be seen again until Father Kronos has once again passed away and been replaced by his newborn child-self - which is to say next year, for the less mythically-minded amongst you. May your days be merry and your toes be warm, and i shall see you in 2011!

warm up winter

Wow. Time for another update already? Well, its a dark moon, or was on Sunday, so i guess it is. As usual, its been a crazy-busy two weeks. Since the last time we talked, i created a fabulous Astarte costume, learned to play the Polish National Anthem on my accordian, got called in to consult on sending on an unquiet ghost, quit smoking, found another of the elf figurines i collect, had a holiday dinner at elder daughter's house, spent a lovely evening catching up with my sister-in-lawless, realized a childhood dream of becoming part of the Xmas display in the window of Higbee's downtown, lost my voice just in time for opening night, and started to decorate the apartment for Yule. That seems like maybe a smaller list than last time but i assure you, i've been plenty busy.

First, Astarte.
She appears as a character in the original play we're producing this holiday season at the Liminis: "Aporkalypse!. Now as it happens, i'm a bit familiar with historical Astarte, who was represented as looking like this:
which wouldn't exactly work for us here. Not that we've any strictures against nudity. If anything, the combination of long skirts and snakes would have made some of her choreography difficult. So i opted for something more bellydancer-ish (a choli top and baggy pants) but in gold lamé. Gold cuz its all middle-eastern yanno *cough*. The result, which i do not yet have a picture of, is rather a drag version of Princess Jasmine, especially since her headpiece is constructed out of cheap glitter xmas ornaments:
Oh, i had fun making that. i really wanted to get a tree-topper spire thing to put up above the star, but she apparently crawls in between one actor's legs at one point, so no spiky headwear. Alas.

This same play is why i learned the Polish National Anthem, as well as a little ditty called "Sow Took the Measles". Aporkalypse was written by local playwright Chris Johnston, with the convergence crew in mind. And the actress who would have originally played the mother figure can pick out a basic tune on accordion, so once again my instrument was cast and not me - how does this keep happening? However, she had to decline the role due to other commitments, and the actress who replaced her does NOT play. No problem: Chris just re-wrote the scene to incorporate two new cameo characters who come carolling - and just like that, in addition to costuming i was suddenly IN the play as well, with lines and everything! (The other caroller is played by my friend Joe, who really *knows* how to play). Sadly, i also caught my mother's cold on Thanksgiving, which became laryngitis the night before we opened. i only have five lines, so i stayed silent right up until we went on and somehow managed to croak them out at an audible level - but the general consensus is i had tranny-man voice.

The ghost is less interesting a tale than it seems, at least from my perspective. A dear friend's neighbor passed away, and he felt the spirit was still wandering their duplex. i wasn't able to sense it in the short time i had, and i've been assured he's since gone on to wherever such spirits go. i've never tried to lay an unquiet ghost and don't really know what i would do or have done had i Sensed him. Circumstances did not allow me the time to tune in and find the spontaneously 'right' course of action i'd hope to have chosen, so whether i can or could have done anything remains unanswered.

The elf figurine was a wonderfully lucky stumble that i probably should not have splurged on, but couldn't resist. i don't know anything about these figures other than they come in several sizes, they're almost always seated, almost always holding or playing an instrument, and they appear to be from the early-mid 60s. There's no markings of any kind to help identify them, and googling 'elf figure' is too vague to be useful. i have half a dozen or so more of them, but its been nearly five years since i ran across the last - which is the rare variant seen in the background here.

Most of the ones i own are in storage with my beloved gnomes, so i'm not quite sure how many i even have - about six small ones, i think, another medium seated one like the one i just found, the unusual standing elf, and the prize of the collection, a large seated elf in luxuriant gold-trimmed red velvet.

And speaking of velvet..
Certainly the high point of the last two weeks was appearing at the lighting ceremony downtown as the Snow Queen. As you may know, i perform as a living statue. A month or so back, i saw an ad for the lighting ceremony and had the brainstorm that i could perform and stay WARM if i had a nice cloak! So in the spare moments i had not costuming the play, i made myself a lined white (ok, panné) velvet cloak. With a thrift-store blanket sandwiched in the middle; the cloak turned out to be as warm as a coat.

The dress was left over from the bridal veil job i did a few weeks back: i had to detach the bodice from the skirt, because while the skirt fit, that tiny bodice was never going around my giant earth-mama bosom. If i do this again, i'll do a better job with the bodice than just pinning it to a blouse, but i only had a little time to get it together. Of course the piece that really drew it all together was the crown:
And you thought i had fun making Astarte's headpiece! i want to try my hand at some more crowns in the future, possibly for the Fairie Festival next spring (*if* i get on the stick and get my application in, eep!) Since part of the time i was performing i was out on Public Square, i did encounter a higher-than-normal volume of street people. One of whom snarked in passing that my outfit must have cost a fortune - well, if i'd bought the dress new he'd be right; but in fact the whole thing was put together for under fifty bucks.

The really cool part, tho, was getting to be in the front window of Positively Cleveland, which occupies the space that was once home to Higbee's Department Store. If that name sounds vaguely familiar to non-Clevelanders, its because that exact same window is the one the kids have their noses pressed to at the start of "A Christmas Story". The Santa scene was shot on the ground floor, when the store fixtures were all still there - sadly, much of its gone now; although the panelling still exists.

That morning, i'd been upstairs in the Silver Grille, a name that conjures magical memories for anyone who grew up here. The Silver Grille was the fine dining restaurant up on the tenth floor. i'm not exactly sure when Higbee's was built, perhaps early-mid 30s? But its a great example of Art Deco design, and the tenth floor is still intact. One rides up the same classic old elevators and there you are.. i didn't walk around the corner only because i wanted to believe that if i had, i would've ALSO found the Twigbee Shoppe, Bruce the Spruce, and whatever magical winter wonderland the display department had put together that year.

The restaurant is closed now, but the room is available to the neighboring Ritz-Carlton for special occassions. My friend at Positively Cleveland had put together a brunch there that morning where people could come up and revisit memories of Christmases past. There was no appearance by Mr. Jingeling - another local tradition - as i believe the character was retired after Earl Keyes, the man who portrayed him longest, passed away. Anyway, i just realized that Mr. Jingeling resided on HALLE'S seventh floor; why, that was blocks away! Instead, those who attended got to listen to live music by Ryann Anderson ("Music that's like ice cream for your ears"!) and see the Snow Queen standing in front of the central fountain.

i could wax on (and on, and on) about my memories of past holidays downtown. My brother's birthday is the 18th, and my family would come in to town every year around then, to spend a weekend in a downtown hotel room, see the displays at all the stores, visit Santa and Mr Jingeling, do our shopping at the Twigbee Shoppe, and ride the miniature train around the base of the twelve-story tree at Sterling Lindner. Sometimes we'd have brunch at the Silver Grille, where kids meals were served in little cardboard stoves (!) but often as not we'd eat at - was it the Minute Chef? - that faced right out on the Square, with the mysteriously forbidden-to-kids Kon-Tiki Room just beyond.

Its hard now to capture how very special this was. Its a standing family joke that the year revolved around two poles for my brother: Cedar Point in the summer, and the visit downtown in winter; and as soon as one high point had been passed, he'd start asking how soon it was to the other. In these days of on-demand everything, there just isn't the same anticipation; and without the investment of energy and wishful thinking, the sense of the numinous isn't there when you do get whatever it is. We knew, if we missed that trip up to town, it would be a WHOLE YEAR before we'd see the little moving figures in the windows, get the key to Santa's castle, walk up and down the marble ramps in the Terminal Tower and experience all the other delights that were *only* to be found at that time of year.

The funny thing is, before he moved to California, my brother did several Christmases downtown - why, here he is as Tinsel the Elf, greeting baby Eldest Daughter:

i'd forgotten that one, to be honest. What i do remember is him as a Tin Soldier - first in the toy department at Halle's and later in the window at the May Co. i learned several of the living statue tricks from him, altho i don't think he called it that when he performed. After he moved to California, the tradition of the Tin Soldier continued, with another local performer in the role at Tower City. Last week, a quarter of a century later (!) i finally got my turn.

And that is MORE than enough blog for tonight. See you in two weeks people!

November cumen in

Hm. i hope i'm not late for this post. i think its been two weeks since the last; i've been calculating it more by the phase of the moon, truth to tell. Wasn't my intention when i started but i like the thought of posting at new and full moons. If i were following that logic, the full moon post would be what projects have reached fruition, while the dark would be about those in potentia; but i'm pretty sure my life doesn't schedule itself so neatly.

Let's see if i can once again condense two weeks of activity into one paragraph. Short and sweet is not my metier, people! But since Halloween, i've perfected my vegan tiger meat recipe, embellished some jeans, finished up one play and gone into rehearsal for another, begun preparing for a new statue gig, made some great breakfast cookies, got killed off as the unknown victim for a murder mystery, caught a deliciously creepy gallery show and another installment of Pecha-Kucha, gotten back behind the lighting board for my friend's band, and been immersed in a fabulous book.

Oh, and i delivered the wedding veil i mentioned before. And now, thanks to the miracle of Teh Internetz, i can show you a picture of it! Here:

No, its not the most stunning piece you've ever seen in your life. But i'm pleased with it, and more importantly, so is my client. We were going for an Eastern Europe meets 1920s sort of effect; i'll let you decide if i even came close. i've never attempted something remotely like it before, but when the requests come in, you say yes first and learn how afterwards. But enough of the old news.

Looking over the list, i realize that i can't elaborate on each of them without rambling on (and on, and on, and on). Soo.. perhaps i'll give you ONE chunk now, and then as i get time, will put up little sub-posts about the rest. Like i said, still working out my approach to blogging; its not like the old LiveJournal where i'd spit out whatever came into my head! (and apologize afterwards, ha ha). There's a bit already been promised, which is what you'll get today; we'll see what happens from there.

*ahem* Proceed.

On November 13th, the previous play ("Brainpeople", which got wonderful reviews) wrapped up. One of the central plot points in this play is the consumption of a roasted tiger cub, and one character in particular eats a fair amount of it. Now, finding something to stand in as tiger meat wouldn't've been so hard, but the actress playing that role happens to be vegan. As the in-house old hippie, the director turned to me and asked, 'what can we use?' My first question to her was, did she have a gluten allergy. No? Awesome. We're having seitan.

At some point last spring, i got the urge to see if there was such a thing as vegan corned beef, and found a recipe that tasted GREAT, so i figured i'd just use that again. Except.. i saved it on my netbook, which currently has a case of teh deads (contributions towards a new LCD screen can be PayPal'd to gothikfaerie@yahoo.com ;-) OK, fine. i found it online, i'll just find it again. Except.. i couldn't find the one i'd used. It ~might~ be Breanna's Vegan Corned Beef, the link for which seems to be no longer active. Instead, i found one that seemed close on The Domestic Vegan , which tasted ok, but i didn't care for the texture much.

So every week when it was time to make the tiger meat, i'd tinker a little. Until finally i came up with this:
My Vegan Corned Beef

Dry Ingredients:

* 2 c. vital wheat gluten
* 2 Tbsp. nutritional yeast
* 2 Tbsp. minced onion
* 1 Tbsp. paprika
* 1 Tbsp. garlic powder
* 1 tsp. caraway seeds (ground)
* 1 tsp. fennel powder
* 1 Tbsp. salt
* 1 tsp. black pepper
* 1 tsp. chinese mustard powder
* ¬1/2 tsp. ground cloves

Wet Ingredients:

* 1 c. water
* 1/2 c, tomato juice
* 1 Tbsp. liquid smoke (hickory flavor)
* 1 Tbsp. red wine vinegar
* 1 Tbsp. brown sugar
* 1 tsp. soy sauce
* 4 lg drops red food coloring

Directions:

Grind spices in blender til powdered. Gradually add flour and flake yeast; transfer to a large bowl. Combine wet ingredients in blender, rinsing out floury residue. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry, and stir to combine. Particularly if you use the food coloring (you may not want to; it heightened the effect for onstage), at this point it will look something like this:


Knead with your hands for a couple minutes, until everything is well combined & strands of gluten start to form. On a clean surface, shape the seitan into an oval (about 8" by 5" with a 1" thickness). Let set for one hour. Loaf may rise some during this time. It will only become slightly more attractive, however:


Bake on a lightly-greased cookie sheet at 325F for thirty minutes. While the loaf is baking, fill a large pot with about 12 cups of water or vegetable broth, to which you have added 1-2 T wine vinegar. Add 2 bay leaves & 1 potato, cubed; 1/4 head of cabbage, rutabaga, turnip, and/or beet (for color). Bring to a boil, then lower heat to keep the water simmering. When the loaf is baked, it may look something like this:


The original recipe recommended wrapping it in cheesecloth before the next step: I did that the first time but then didn't bother and aside from losing the string marks where it was tied, it didn't seem to matter much. Simmer your tiger meat for another thirty minutes, then remove from broth with tongs or slotted spoon. You guessed it: its


The final product came out with a darker 'skin' and a nice chewy, moist texture. Without baking, you get something really rubbery; without boiling, its a lot like bread. i'm going to try this just for myself at some point (when there's no more leftovers in the freezer) and probably tinker with the seasoning more; i still never got the great corned flavour of the original recipe. However, this one also makes a great hash: cut slices into cubes and fry up with cubed potatoes and onion, maybe an extra bit of soy sauce and/or garlic powder. Sunday morning noms!

Anyway that's all i have time for today.. could be more in days to come, stay tuned..

All Hallows wrap-up

A new blog has been promised, and a new blog you shall (hopefully!) have. For a new year, an' one keeps to the ancient Celtic system of reckoning. That's more internal, since externally my world still confirms to secular rules, but i mark what i can. In the same way, i might internally have observed Samhain, but externally it was Halloween, quite possibly the busiest time of the year for me (well, tied with Beltane half-way round the calendar wheel but that's a springtime tale). So what have i been doing since last the moon was full?

The concise version is, running sound for a play, making a wedding veil, creating Halloween costumes and making birthday presents by hand. i picked up a part-time job working at a pet store that will pay my rent, and started winterizing my apartment. i've been making several attempts at perfecting my Vegan Corned Beef recipe. i spent an afternoon in a local cemetery, attended a party at a Roller Grrl's house, and saw the Dickies at a massive Masquerade Ball around the corner from my house. That pretty well sums it up; the details follow.

First, i've been running sound for "Brainpeople" every weekend, for one. A very different sound plot than the previous play; this one is largely experimental, lots of Zoviet France and Crash Worship, mixed in with selections from several soundtracks, most notably "Frida" but also "Interview With The Vampire" (same composer, it turns out) and "The Crow". Which may give you an idea of the tone of the play.

Along with running sound, i've been providing a food item that's consumed onstage each night. The script calls for tiger meat, which even our beloved West Side Market is unlikely to provide - but besides that little obstacle, the actress who eats the most is vegan. Last spring i'd run across a great recipe for Vegan Corned Beef that i thought would work; but its saved to my netbook, which is out of commission with a cracked screen just at present. And i haven't been able to locate quite the one i used in online searches since. So i've just been experimenting a little each week, trying to come up with something that's both tasty and toothsome. The recipe i found produces something that tastes all right, but has the consistency of Silly Putty; not what we're going for at all. i'm hoping to get it right by the end of the run, at which point i'll post MY Vegan Corned Beef recipe.

Another thing keeping me busy was making a wedding veil for an acquaintance. She's going off to Eastern Europe to wed, under somewhat curious circumstances which are not my business. Millinery, on the other hand, is. i created a sort of Russian cap in white satin, with some ribbon embroidery and a central heart of pearl roping, with silk flowers (including her favorite, pink lillies) around the brim. The veil itself is rather plain, just iridescent netting with a lace trim at the hem, falling to fingertip length. Her dress is simple, spaghetti straps and not a lot of frou-frou, so i tried to keep the veil appropriate. i hope she'll like it.

With the onset of winter, i've been trying to prepare Chez Wolfkitten. This will be my first winter in the new apartment, and the prospect of heating bills has me on the nervous side. Tho i might have complained, i LOVED having steam heat at my old place and will miss it muchly here. i've been covering my windows in plastic, a window a day or so. The bedroom has two layers and will have one more before i'm done, as the windows are directly above the head of my bed. If it gets too bad, i may even have to re-arrange the room, we shall see. The living room doesn't have any as yet, its last on my list. However, i've had it closed off all month, and a tapestry hanging over the French doors that lead in. There's a good ten degree difference apparent when i do walk in there. Aside from entertaining, tho, i don't need to use it much; i lived in two rooms at the old place so i'm used to not needing a lot of space.

All this and i've not even spoken of Halloween! Two of my friends went up to experience Detroit's Theater Bizarre firsthand. The city came down on the T.B. collective and made them move to a club, which rather dampened the experience as i understand. Not having been there, i can't comment much - i'd've happily gone if i wasn't in the booth. i should change the subtitle of this blog to, I Can't, I Have Rehearsal. There's more behind this tale but i have to keep the details to myself for quite some time yet.

And then the Big Weekend. i only had one real request for costume assistance, attaching a life-size fake crow to the shoulder of a leather coat. The bird itself fell apart before my work did. Interesting that crows continue as a theme. i'll forever be a weregrrl and a mermaid, but the crows and i, we have an Allegiance now. Speaking of crows, i don't think i've mentioned that my new part-time gig is working in the exotic bird room at a local pet shop, have i? Birds again.

i mention it now, because it plays into *my* costume. i'd started with the concept of Showgirl from Outer Space; lifted from a favorite movie, Vegas In Space by way of an outfit i'd worn in Say You Love Satan as the club DJ, based on a Mardi-Gras colored wig. Well, once i started cleaning up after a couple marathon wing-clipping sessions, i got the notion i might glue some feathers around my eyes, feathers and rhinestones, that sort of thing. Fortunately, a week or so before i realized that if i took the time to do that, i'd never make it out before the night was over, as i'd have to get ready post-theater both nights (yes, of *course* i went out Friday and Saturday! Didn't you?)

Instead, i had the brilliant idea to make an appliance and glue the feathers to that - which became a papier-mache domino mask, covered in green/gold feathers with sequin accents. Oh goodie, someone's posted a picture:

i'm quite happy with how it came out, even tho i wound up *nothing* like the original concept - only the wig and my snakeskin leggings were the same. But about three days beforehand, i had the brainstorm that instead of trotting out my pirate dress again (that is SO three years ago) on Friday, i should instead go in my Circus Grrl persona, much nearer and dearer to my heart. i have a great frock-coat style jacket, on semi-permanent loan from the theater (*ahem*), the above-mentioned leggings, and knee-high black riding boots. Oh, and my corset, of course.

Naturally, once i got that bee in my bonnet, nothing would do but that i create a tiny tophat to complete the ensemble! i've never made one before. This one is uber quick'n'dirty: posterboard covered in fabric. Only later that night did it occur to me i'd not created a way to attach it to my head; amazingly, two bobbypins held it at that rakish angle all night long. There was drama and delay getting to where i was going, so that by the time i arrived at my favorite watering hole, they were closing up and heading en masse to some *other* bar. Which turned out to be one of those places Suburban White People go to 'let their hair down', complete with obligatory cover band. Who at least got props for having a horn section. Downed a quick cocktail or two and made our escape.



Only Zombie Jett was up for the Roller Grrl party. Shortly after this pic was taken, he peeled the extra eyeball off his face and bounced it around the kitchen before it came to rest on the back landing. For this portion of the evening, i had donned my ultimate accessory - the accordion! - and was cajoled to play a tune for a charming young Scorpio mime. i got into a discussion of seitan-cooking techniques with Mr Roller Grrl and a friend of his, had a smoke on the porch, scooped up the drag queen and dominatrix i'd brought to the party initially and tottered off home.

Satyrday night - yes, its almost over, i promise! - i'd arranged to spend hanging out with another Scorpio lady friend of mine, who made a mysteriously fetching vampire. She met me at Chez Wolfkitten, we did our final primping and walked over to Cleveland Public Theater. Which was madness, madness i tell you madness. Hundreds of people. So many that to say "I'll see you there" was a crapshoot, and i did *not* see at least one person who made that promise. But i did eventually see most of my closest crew. One or two recognized me straight off, but i had to lift the mask before most people knew who i was - which led to the ribbon finally giving way by the end of the night.

One of my favorite costumes of the night was a friend who went as the Facebook 'poke' - just a foam sandwich board with the Facebook 'f' logo, and a pointer-finger hand on a stick; but props for creativity! There was another dressed in black & white stripes of varying sorts, who had black&white concentric circles on his face. They gave him the look of being a cyclops; very cool! Another friend was a transforming werewolf; his outfit consisted of shorts, tennis shoes, Elmer's glue, and a LOT of scraps of hair. He said the local barber college wouldn't part with sweepings so i'm not sure where he got it, but for such a simple approach it worked really well. Maybe its his wolfish grin.

i got to spend a little time chatting with someone who i've been wanting to mend fences with for a while, very glad of that opportunity. Got to spend a little while too, chatting with the Rev. Ivan Stang and Princess Wei R. Doe (Queen of All UFOs), which made me even happier. i don't get to see them near often enough, which is silly given that we live all of what, ten miles away from each other?! The ball ended at one a.m., but not all of us were ready to head home yet. Some folks opted for the Happy Dog, which was walking distance and might have been a better choice. A few others, myself included, headed up to the Spitfire for last call. One bartender had a far too credible Superhost outfit on, which will mean nothing to non-Clevelanders, but trust me, if you get the joke it was great.

And that, ah my foes and oh my friends, was my All Hallow's weekend. i'll (attempt to) be back in two weeks' time, with the next installment. This too promises to be a busy, busy month - lots of costuming to be done - so i'm sure i'll have something for you to read. i hope you tune in.

farewell reel

Me again. If you've read more than one post in this blog, you are aware that i've never quite settled on what i want it to *be* - which shouldn't surprise me, as i've never quite settled on that about myself either, even after a half-century of trying to figure it out.

i know i don't want this to reflect my inner ramblings and quirks; if and when i feel like sharing those with the outside world, well, i've got a space for that. Yet ask a Pisces not to talk about her feelings, or vague, mystical pronouncements? HA! Well, you can ask. Just don't hold your breath waiting. Unless you're into that sort of thing.

However, by the time this posts, it will be a new year. Yes, it will. For me. i observe a modified Celtic-eclectic version of the Wheel of the Year, and if i say its new - just don't argue, ok? And since new years are for new things, let's try something new here.

Whurgh. That's already three paragraphs of expository rambling, and if its taking me this long to get to the point, then - maybe what i'll do is make this post the LAST of the old year, and put up the New Improved Active Avoidance a few days later, how's that. Fine. Glad we got that settled.

As of next week, then, i am going to attempt - as a personal discipline - to post twice a month, summing up the events and projects i've been involved with since the previous post. i always have a million things going on; i really should be talking about them here. Consider this a farewell to the old paradigm Active Avoidance, then, and tune in next time to find out what wacky hi-jinks your narratrix has been up to this time! (hint - big favorite holiday weekend.. should be a good one).

Oh, one more thing. With the temporary discombobulation of my beloved Nettie, this blog is going to have to remain picture-free until i can get her a new screen. i'm still *taking* pics; i just don't have a way to upload them without the ability to plug in a memory card - which my iMac doesn't possess. You shall have to illustrate my befuddling variety of misadventures *with your mind*. See? Challenges for me, challenges for you. Its going to be an equal-opportunity kind of blog.

Dark Lodge summer slight return

Once again, everything's gone arse over teakettles in wolfkittenland. Stability, i do not know ye. i'm still close enough to young i can laugh delightedly: whee and whoopsie-daisy! but the era of living out my days in an abandoned boxcar get less romantic as they loom larger on the horizon.

Ah but fie on that for today. Today i awakened in a snug little bed in a pretty new apartment - well, not new since the last time; i'm not THAT unstable i hope! - hailstones pattering my window. And i could lay contentedly under the covers and listen until they were done; no rushing out to Leeloo Dallas Moolti Jobs today.

Ah yes, i am once again employed. And employed. And busy as ever. And yet curiously still well below the poverty line; i guess i took that vow in a life i no longer recall, but still seem bound by it. My mornings now are filled with birds - i'm the bird room assistant in the warehouse section of a major pet store chain. Lots of poop and screeching; but i'm left to myself better than three-quarters of the time, my head free to roam while my hands do what they must. Afternoons are 'free' but so far have been filled with one and another small side gig. Two evenings a week i have the Clinic, teaching women's health exams to medical students. After that its off to the theater, tho by the end of this week that will only be weekends. Two days off a week, but not consecutive and alternate Thursdays aren't really 'off' at all as that's the day i clean a yuppie condo. No statue work til next summer alas, as that makes me nearly as much dosh as the Clinic job; however, one way and another and another i'm staying just barely afloat and that's what matters.

Aside from that, i've returned to a world i thought i left behind a quarter century ago, and that may be the strangest of all. Once upon a time, in a journal far, far away, i undertook to write a 'small' history of all the strange places i've been in my life. Strange in internal ways; i'm no world traveller despite my gypsie leanings. i couldn't compose such a thing and not include the events of 1987-88, my Basketcase summer; an era with a strongly identifiable astral signature to it. And at the time i was writing (a little over five years ago), as i got to that section, i realized i could detect traces of that same signature in the air once again. In fact, part of that feeling was an internal urging to check in with a certain silvered Duke; at that time i had NO idea where or who he was, little say that he'd come to play a regular role in my life a few short years on.

Lest he sound too central - i've had a few other quasi-mythological characters pass through my life, to greater impact - his presence is part of the return of a group we half-jokingly referred to as thee Dark Lodge. Less than a formal coven, more than a group of friends, a high percentage of what i term 'natural witches', that is, those with an active Awareness of things beyond our mortal ken. There may be a story there, but one for telling another time. For now, i'll simply say that when that era passed and we all went on to our separate lives, i thought it was an era done and over with.

Its not.

The focus has shifted some. Guggi, who was at the center and helped hold it together, has been gone from this life for over a decade - tho i rather suspect if we got all the key players together and made a serious attempt, we might hear from him even now. Who plays what role isn't important; the fact is that somehow, something rather like thee Dark Lodge has drifted back together, and once again become the central feature in my life.

In MY life! Which has been led as a 70s stoner, a hippie, a punk, a pagan, a goth, as mother and Brownie troop leader, as social gadfly and village witch, as real-time performance art, as crowgrrl and woodnymph, sacred energie technician and faerie shaman. The One Who Wears the Masks stays the same, but everything else mutates subtly, regularly, a dance ov give and take with my environment.

So for the waves on the sea of possibility to have returned me just *here*, so clearly back with the strongest of all the tribes whose tokens i wear around my neck, tattooed to my skin, painted on my back - ov all ov those, Here is where i have returned. To the Source. i wonder how long i'll stay this time..

freelance quantum wufkitn

Friday the 13th has traditionally been a good day for me, and this just past was no different. Except maybe that it was better than some - ? Top ten, i'd say, if i were able to count such things. Actually, its the weekend as a whole i'm looking at, or even back into the week.. from the new moon on, let's say. A good time to mark a beginning.

Dark moons have been a noticeable event in my life for the last twenty years or so. i've mentioned that fact before. Long enough you'd think i'd remember to pay attention when one's coming up, but they're as likely to sneak up on me as not. i hit a peak, crest a wave, look at my little Lunabar app, and - oh, go figure. That's been as certainly true with this one as any.

So maybe it wasn't until Saturday that it struck me, really; but then, i'm often so caught up in the moment i don't have time to Process until afterwards. But at some point Saturday i realized - i have a stack of checks sitting on my desk, waiting to be deposited. Wait, now, i have *what* - ?! But its true. i'm hardly rolling - all but one are for less than a hundred dollars - but neither am i in danger of defaulting on the rent, at least for next month. After that, who knows. Its a crapshoot - welcome to the world of freelance! - but right now, just for today (if you will) i'm doing ok.

Also on Saturday, after closing night for the last play, i had a really nice conversation with one of our troupe members. Who is also going the freelance route, a bit further down the path than me tho. But he was very encouraging, seemed like he Sees it how i See it. i've been feeling pretty good about how things are going anyway, but hearing someone else's take on it was really nice (and definitely appreciated, pal, if you're reading this!)

Somewhere along the way with this, i also had a moment of feeling.. of realization.. how can i put this. Five years ago i was in such a different place - emotionally, financially, physically.. and at the time, i Saw that a wave of change was coming in. i didn't know where the wave would take me, only that Something was building. Now, i suddenly feel like i know what it was building towards, that i'm Here, Now, this is It. By which i don't mean at an end or stopping point; maybe the end of an era or phase and the beginning of a new one, but not Over over. i'm certainly not ready to be done, by a long shot.

Saturday night i went home early, no reason to stay out. In a good frame of mind after hanging out with my pal. My apartment, lovely new place, was quiet, a lazy humid breeze drifting up from the lake. i went into the living room in the dark, still not used to having so much space of my very own, and started doing yoga - a nice long session, stretching myself beyond my usual limits. Moving very slowly, Subliminal time, so as not to pull anything; and then settling into statue mode. i wanted to try a new pose, see if i could hold it, and i think that i can, that it will work (a variation on the Venus de Milo - obviously variant, as my arms are staying attached thanks just the same!) Did my regular workout after that and then went to sleep to the sound of crickets and the gentle oscillation of my fan.

Things are coming together in my life - i feel that finding this apartment is a symbol of that, not the cause, of course. But as if that was the last key i had to turn in the lock, and now the door has opened. Life could be very scary right now; i have no idea how i'll pay rent in October, little say electric or food or heat. i signed a year lease that i can't promise i'll be able to carry out. And yet somehow i'm not worried - in fact, i'm quite the opposite of worried; serenely trusting in thee yoniverse that S/He will provide.

i don't believe there are accidents - maybe causes and effects we can't perceive or understand. Not accidents, though. i'm here, where i am, because this is where i am *meant* to be at this juncture. The place fits me too perfectly. And if i managed to make this lucky stumble, to some place i feel so content, so able to live my life, then i Trust and believe that the means to maintaining it will appear. This is already beginning to happen; opportunities i would not have expected or looked for seem to be springing up. i'm cautious about getting too optimistic, settling back and thinking i've nothing to worry about, but at the same time trying not to worry things *out* of existence, either.

A final tangent and i'll close: i'm a reader with a broad spectrum of tastes, have been my whole life.­ i therefore pick up books at the thrifts fairly regularly; a twenty-five cent investment can provide a week's worth of entertainment, albeit some much more entertaining than others. One of my recent acquisitions, "Timescape" by Gregory Benford, might not seem entertaining to most folks. Its what is known as 'hard' science fiction; that is, the science in it is real, or real enough to speculate upon. There's not much sex (what little there is involves the closest thing to a villain in the piece, nothing racy at all) and even less violence. Nary a car chase to be found. i've been looking forward to getting home every night so i could get back to it.

The book deals with the possibility of a sort of time travel, or at least communication backwards in time; and the problems arising if such an endeavour proves successful. Since the author is equipped with a working knowledge of quantum physics (circa 1980), one of the possible consequences of such communication is the notion of parallel universes - a concept i've spent a lot of time thinking about.

One of the most interesting things in the world to me is when you go far enough around the circle that magic becomes a science, and science blurs and dissolves into spirit. Sir Arthur Eddington is quoted as saying "The stuff of the universe is mind-stuff", one of the shaping mantras of my life. This book doesn't go quite that deeply in, but it does ultimately begin to deal with the question of what happens when the universe splits in two (Another look at this, one more accessible to the general populace, occurs in the movie "The Butterfly Effect").

The protagonist realizes, near the end of the story, that his universe shifted and changed, and that his former future was no longer 'future', that it, in fact, no longer *existed* for him. He is even able to narrow it down to approximately when the shift happened, one of several events that might have thrown the switch (as readers in the 'outside observer' mode, we know very clearly which event, as the outcome - the author chose a well-known historical moment - turned out very differently in our world).

What intrigues me is the notion that his fictional description of the sense of shifting futures, and at least one theoretical speculation on how this could happen, very strongly mirror my own experiences, and intuitive sense of the same - my 'magic' just took a giant step closer to his 'science'. Is it then so wildly improbable that 'magic' brought me into this apartment, is bringing me new opportunities, even that it put a randomly-chosen book from the thrift store into my hands with a possible explanation for how such things might happen - ?!

Of course, any sufficiently advanced technology will appear as magic to less advanced civilizations. But whether its that hoodoo that you do or the Wheeler-Everett-Graham model doesn't matter to me. All i know is, the universe is unfolding as it should, and for once i seem to be surfing the crest of the probability wave. Um - cowabunga??

new diggins

Alright, i confess - i am a bad blogger. At least in the Y Hlo Thar World expository sense most people use when they blog; i'm far too good at the Oh Teh Noes Why Didn't He Call, staple hand to forehead sort. i am trying to be better about it - and oh, nothing gets me doing something creative like telling myself i really *must*, now, tonight, get around to some OTHER project. Like writing a blog.

Having decided that yes, i am due - its been a month since my last one already, omfg, how can that be?! - i've proceeded instead to work on decorating some papier mache fish i'm making for a friend's shop, make and eat dinner, begin emptying my cupboards, sort and re-file my three crates of records and do some active listening towards the next play's sound design.

What's that about emptying cupboards, you say? Funny thing, that; as it ties right in to the topic i've chosen to soliloquize upon this month. To wit, my new apartment. i've put up some pics in the past of where i used to live, but i doubt any of them gave the proper impression of just how freaking *small* it was. Funky dog-leg hallway aside, it really was only two rooms, kitchen and bath. Which meant that my workroom had to do double duty as my kitchen - or should that be the other way around?


Yeah, i crammed a whole lot of stuff into not very much space and i made it work. However, in the middle of April i came down to a notice that the landlord was facing 'financial difficulties' (well, who isn't these days?) and we should expect our utilities to be going away, oh, any day now. It was not much of a step from that to the few remaining tenants fleeing the proverbial sinking ship the house had become - and just like that, as of June i suddenly found myself once again a squatter in my 'own' home.

Now, it's a little-known fact that i am not actually a Tremont resident. Most people *believe* i am, since i'm there every day one way or another; but the truth is, for the last three years i've resided in the nearby and, dare i say, equally trendy arts district of Gordon Square. But with this handwriting on the wall, perhaps the time had come to move to Tremont at last - after all, i've only been hanging out there for more than twenty years. i was even approved for an apartment down near Steelyard, yet chose not to go - heresy!

Sorry Tremonsters, but you just couldn't compete with what i found. Here's what sold me:

Ginormous closet of awesome, clawfoot tub on hexagonal tile, *living room*, full-size stove, linen closet - linen closet!! - PORCH.. Yeah, my world, it has been rocked. Still pinching myself.

This, then, is my excuse for not blogging all month - yeah! A good one, this time! i've been busy doing this:

i mentioned the ginormous closet, which can be seen in the first collage. When i got the keys and walked through on my own, i discovered two more closets, at which point i KNEW i'd died and gone to heaven. In addition to that spans-the-living-room one, i have a bedroom closet for clothes, and a walk-in off the dining room (now workshop/office).

At long last, i'll be free of my one pal's grumbly taunt that 'i sure have a lot of stuff'. True, i do; but i suspect if you took everything in *his* 2bdr+den house and crammed it into two rooms, it'd seem like a lot, too. Now i've got things stored out of sight, and my furniture isn't piled on top of itself. Well, mostly. This building's 93 years old;
they believed in high ceilings then. Who am i not to take advantage? (i also, as seen above, have a Greenman standing guard outside my living room, a lovely, rustic view off my kitchen porch, and an incredible view of sunsets over the lake. Also, not shown here, a view of the lake. That's right, LAKE BREEZES. Amazing).

i think i've done rather admirably with all this, if i do say so myself.

Not all the artwork is hung, and there are a few shelves still waiting to be filled. The futon bunk needs re-assembled, and i've a chair i want to bring from the storage locker. A chair, i might add, that has BEEN in that locker since it came back from Conneaut five years ago. i might even add in a coffee table, altho my lovely 1950s Swedish pine occaisional table must languish in the dark with the 1930s deco vanity a while longer.

Oh, and about those cupboards? i applaud my landlord's commitment to keeping the place vermin-free, i really do - par*tic*ularly after the last place =P But i'm one who takes full advantage of to-the-ceiling original kitchen cabinets. i cook for large groups on a somewhat regular basis, i bake at the holidays, i have Grandma Vernye's Fire King china and more tchotchkes than you can shake your stick at. Emptying every single cupboard, shelf, and cabinet in kitchen AND bath is a pain in the tuchus. Especially since i only just finished filling them all up. Ah well - there had to be a drawback somewhere..

Holy Pink Fourth

Once again i haven't posted in a while. i guess i'm not in a very reflective period right now; plus the time it takes to sit down and write about things is time i'm not spending DOING things. i am doing a lot of things. Actually i suppose i do update on them; but these days i micro-blog via status updates (@wolfkitten - "Follow me on Twitter!"). But my head is full, there's a promise of rain on the breeze and its just me and the netbook on a futon on the floor. Yes its 3am on the night of the fourth as i write and i'm rambling.

Part of what's keeping me busy is The Move. The place i've been living the last three years Went Away, basically - landlord lost the place and no one's bought it yet, everyone but me moved out by early June. This mirrors my situation of five years ago in curious ways - it was exactly this time of year when i came back from Conneaut to Collinwood, and - well that was an adventure in and of itself. Both times i've been semi-squatting, which appeals to me on some urban punk traveller level but is maybe not quite so romantic when you're actually doing it.

This time, it was rather like watching the shoreline crumble around my little oasis on every side, knowing sooner or later it was going to eat away at my foundations. At the same time, i didn't have to bail suddenly, so i was able to look around a little and find something that was right for me. Which i believe i have. i'm still not completely finished; next weekend is scheduled to be the last big transfer, which means having everything *ready* to go before then. i'll get it done somehow, but of course this has ALSO been one of those manic energie periods when Everything is Happening At Once. And of course this place didn't come through until i was right on the edge of that next big wave coming in.

Summertimes roll.. One reason i've always loved Jane's Addiction so much. Not only were they THE summer soundtrack back in the day, but they captured the essence of those times so perfectly. i could, an i cared to, find parallels back to the endless Basketcase summer; the July 4th i lost and then re-found my High Priestess Tarot earrings on a beach i can all but see from my new living room. But to get there i have to use a stepping-stone, touch base with my most recent midsummer transformation. At that time, i could Feel that sort of wave i'd known in the 80s building again. And i had no way of knowing i'd be where i am, that i would reconnect with people who were There before, none of it. Not sure i could have even *pictured* this existing like it does. And yet here we are.

Last year at this time i was writing about a Horrible Holiday. To me, July 4th symbolizes a secular version of the ancient midsummer rites. Though to call it 'mid'summer seems somehow wrong - i understand the position it held in the calendar for pagan ancestors quite well, but we don't follow the same calendar, the same rhythms anymore. Its not that we have none; they're just attuned differently. July 4th taps into the celebration of the seasonal influences, but its overlaid with a different sort of festivity that glorifies all the forms of dominion i've rejected my whole life. Ergo not one i'm generally too comfortable with. In years past we'd try to get out of the city altogether - i've attended a few Rainbow Gatherings, and would go camping if at all remotely possible. And those were choices i made even before i got to know the joys of fireworks-induced panic attacks.

This year was different, though, and to my mind a lot better. Well, maybe not better than camping with friends; that's hard to beat. But good. Of course, it started off with an entirely different gathering of the tribes - a gathering of the tribe i have probably the strongest ties to: the Clepunk crew. Anymore people talk about 'the eighties' and everyone thinks Flashdance, Cindy Lauper, and big hair metal. Yeah, that was out there, but that wasn't remotely MY 80s. Mine was the local hardcore punk scene (which has never yet been properly documented), intermixed with Rainbow hippie stuff by way of what would become stoner rock. But with the emphasis on hardcore.

Did any of us then think we'd be doing this thirty years later? (and i have to correct myself, because i WANTED to write twenty =:o) We couldn't think that far ahead; Reagan was probably going to start a nuclear war anyway, so Live Fast Die Young seemed an eminently reasonable response to the world around us. Until, of course, some people started doing exactly that and you realized a cool bumper sticker does not a practicable life course make. However, the good thing about it now is that those of us who are still standing - and there are many more still here than not - have generally learned to be a little more intelligent about it.

Its not that we don't still like to go out and kick it; but most of us have come to terms with the fact that we have times when we can do that - and times when we can't. Even if there were still places like the Lakefront, Pop Shop, Underground and all the rest, we can't spend every weekend blowing it out like we used to (there are still scenes where you can find that, but its different energy for different times). Which makes the times we do get together for that reason all the more special.

i realize its a little preposterous to say that an event called Cleveland's Screaming was a positive celebration - dare i say life-affirming? Fuck it, i'm a punk but i'm a hippie too; effing deal. A celebation of Us, of our tribe, of having been through all we've collectively been through and still be able to drink, play fast music and have fun. As the screaming part of the title might suggest, there was always pain underlying our good times, but one of the things i always liked about the Cleveland scene was that we had fun anyway. We might go to war with Russia tomorrow but fuck it; tonight we're gonna get blasted and enjoy ourselves.

When i started writing this, i was thinking about the pain, and i feel there's more there to be said on that topic. But not just now. Right now, i'm still high on the sheer exuberant energie of seeing so many faces together again, of seeing bands i love and grew up with play out once more (some maybe for the very last time), of touching the same heart and spirit that fueled me then. Friday and Saturday night we all gathered - not at any of our old places; are any of them even still standing?! - but a newer club that understands and encourages the old vibe.

We've had a few 'reunion' shows over the years and i've been to most of them; this was the first time i was actively involved in one. It made a difference to how i perceived it, particularly on Saturday. i convinced the promoter to let me do my glasswalking routine - and not just at 'sometime' during the weekend, but right before the Saturday night headliners, the Pink Holes (and Jim, if you're reading this, i hope you understand now why i wanted that spot!) For one, i know how people react when i do it, enough to know these were *exactly* the people who'd appreciate it, and that was exactly the time when they'd appreciate it most.

But i also wanted to bring something back from other tribes, other worlds i've travelled to, as a sort of gift. Although i've had a lifelong love of carnivals, i didn't move into my circus grrl phase until after i'd left the punk scene. Likewise the theatrical aspects - i may not have been born in a trunk, but i was raised in very close proximity to one; but the closest i got to theater in those days was The Subliminals, the blacklight performance art troupe i was in. Now, these things are the biggest part of what i do, and i was really excited to be able to bring that to the table.

And it was awesome. i hear video was shot; maybe by the time i post this i can link it. (Alas not yet. Check back, i'll edit it in if it goes live).

Of course, to really grok the enormity of the weekend in fullness, you have to know about Les Black's Amazing Pink Holes (i could probably philosophize about the significance of so many of us taking new names on joining the tribe). And i'm not sure if i'm up to finding the words that can explain them if you were never there. Musically, they're not the greatest band that came out of the scene - although despite their claims to the contrary, neither are they the worst. Yes, there are Pink Holes tunes - from covers of "The Lion Sleeps Tonight". "Long Tall Texan" and the old Stridex commercial ("The Proof Is On The Pad") to originals like "Crazy Slut" "MSB Love", and the guaranteed to offend everyone "My Mother". They're fun, they're catchy, they're great to blast out of your car window. But in a way, the music was always just an excuse for - well, the Pink Holes themselves.

i leave it to others to tell stories of the crazy shows they put on. i know i SAW them back in the day, but i think i missed a lot too; they may have played nights when i was home with two little kids making pizza and getting ready for the afterparty. What i can say is that seeing them live always seems to be this intense, cathartic experience - not exactly the same sort i experienced seeing Crash Worship, for instance; and yet closer to that than you might imagine. They were (are?) a sort of ultimate expression of having fun despite the pain. You lost your job, you crashed your car, you found out your guy or girl has been stepping out - fuck it. They'll make you forget that for a night.

Because really, who can remember any of those things when there's a stripper in a tiny jungle thong bikini tossing gift bags with CDs and cans of silly string out to the crowd, smoke bombs are going off onstage, pool noodles and trampolines - trampolines! - are being thrown into the audience, a gigantic stuffed animal is being torn to bits like a pig among the Maenads and good lord, what do you mean they're only three songs into the set?!

And by the grace of a connection back, a strand from before i severed ties that re-wove itself a bit sooner than the rest, i wound up directly in the heart of this maelstrom. i got asked if i could run lights for them - which is a bit of an in-joke, because their 'lights' consisted of four strands of twinkle lights - the musicians in pink and the lead singer in white - connected back to a junction box with regular old light switches wired together. A far cry from the 75 channel intelligent lighting programmable system i'd run the weekend before (and that weekend should/may yet be be an entry unto itself).

This meant that as soon as i'd jumped into that tray of broken beer bottles, MC Joe Gizmo and i were striking my props, i found my barefoot way back to a rear corner, and it was ON. Like i said, i've seen the Pink Holes before, but never from that perspective. Of course, what with the styrofoam pellets, the silly string, the smoke and the stage lights, i couldn't see much but the backs of the bassist and drummer. Reports are still filtering back to me of the things that went on, onstage as well as off. Stagediving, nudity, silly string in inappropriate orifices, they brought it all.

And where i come from, that was a freakin' RITUAL. i first started travelling in pagan circles in the middle of my time in the punk era, and could never escape comparing the two. i can count on one hand with fingers left over the number of bonfire nights i've been to that approached the sort of energy we'd raise during a good show. None of the punk side was Intentional in a magickal sense, but does that make it any less valid?

Not to me, friends. Not to me. Our tribe came together and celebrated, and maybe i'll get a chance this week to note down the rest of it before its gone from my firefly brain. But if i don't, it will be strictly because of finding the time. The high points were many, and i'm still both honored and charged to have been present for our reunion tribal stomp.

to market: a manifesto

i am having a small but minor epiphany and yes, the irony is intentional - but no less true. Its also no less an epiphany, which is why its enough to get me off my duff and over here posting.

i have spent the last two mornings in one of my own personal circles of hell: the world of corporate marketing. How could such a thing happen? Well, i threw something at the wall, and for some reason i don't entirely fathom, it stuck. i'll even go so far as to say that the reason may be that the Main Corporate BooHoo knows his stuff well enough that he sensed *something* about me - a certain energie that, if properly yoked to Company In Question might show some potential returns. But, like Cinderella's wicked stepmother, i said - if.

The fact is, what i've got simply won't work with their yoke. They'd get a little juice out of me, but not what they were hoping for, because they'd be coming with a colander to try and harvest water. So to speak. And in the past, my response would have been to try and freeze myself, or put me in a baggie, something, anything to keep from falling out the holes in the sieve - when in fact, a sieve just isn't the right tool, and i am not the right match for them.

i've spent much of today agonizing over this; am i being a Class A fool to turn down a job offer - just saying the offer actually gets made? (one reason i think i'm not is that, despite giving them two days of my time and labor, there's been no guarantee i actually am, nor will be, hired). And why does the possibility that i MIGHT be fill me with such dread? After all, i've been out of work for a long time now. Any port in a storm, right?

Uh, well, maybe not. i could go on with the metaphors, but ultimately what i'm realizing is, traditional marketing just doesn't work on me. And i may be - well, i am - part of a new paradigm that needs to be reached in new ways. You want to retain my business? About the *last* thing you'd want to do is call me up. No matter what sort of doublespeak term you couch it in, to me, that's telemarketing. Which means first and foremost, no matter what you have to say, i am not interested. i don't care how great your message is, you have just found the No. 1 way to make sure i not only don't listen, but will come away with a negative impression of your company for having used it. You also will not reach me with direct-mail, television, or print ads. You *might* reach me through an effective radio campaign; i'll admit to finding that "Five Dollar Foot-Longs" song pretty catchy.

Of course, i am about as far from a typical consumer as you can get; i may not have Cayce Pollard's allergy to corporate brands and logos, but my antipathy to them is pretty deeply ingrained. There are things i'll happily be a walking advertisement for, but none of them are corporations. And even something like the Liminis, i'd be kind of particular about wearing a logo shirt - tho hm, i'd have no problem at all wearing a Morticia's Chair tshirt (and really, why don't i have one after all this time?!). i guess it would come down to the design; i *am* nearly as picky as Cayce when it comes to color and font (not that you'd ever guess reading this, eh?)

But i'm also realizing, or re-realizing, that if i am going to get out there and promote any given something - business, band, concept - it simply, absolutely HAS to be something i Believe in. Not like hey, yeah, i guess that doesn't suck; like, i am seriously, personally, all about this idea. It reflects my core beliefs.

Ergo, a company, say - restaurant - that wants me to promote them is going to have to have a decent selection of vegetarian items, for starters. No, a turkey sub does not count. A cheese sub isn't any better. A sub with tempeh, or soy cheese, or vegan hotdogs? NOW i'm interested. And don't tell me how you use 'quality ingredients' - who's gonna come out and say they don't, right? McDonald's uses that. Are you using locally grown, organic, sustainably harvested ingredients? That i want to hear about. So you've got a points program to reward customers? *yawn* Who freakin' cares. i'm in a million of those; at best it means i get spam mail from your company that i won't read. Want to get me talking you up? Tell me how your delivery drivers are fueled by recycled fryer grease from your kitchens, or your packaging contains at least 40% post-consumer waste. Don't tell me you use 'the finest' imported olives; tell me about how you compost all the vegetable waste.

And most of all, don't make the mistake of thinking that you can present the same old products you've been hawking for twenty-plus years but Now, Follow Us on Twitter! and i'm going to think, ooh, shiny. You want me to follow your twitter feed? Be small, be 'indie', be Green. Be about the same ideas *i* care about. Be entertaining most of the time; give me a reason to WANT to know what you have to say. So that when you do have a sale, or a special, or a new product, i already know I Like You and I Care.

Needless to say, the company that i wasted ten hours of my time on is none of those things. And hey, what do i know; they've been around thirty years and have multiple locations, while i'm an aging anarchist that can't afford to eat there anyway.

But i still think i'm right.

If you were to ask me, what's it going to be then, Art or Majik? i couldn't answer you. Because i'm not at all sure i can distinguish, any more. i'm not at all certain that any pure, true artist (define as you will) is free of the taint of shamanism; no moreso than i could find something shamanic that bears no stamp of the artistic.

i've noted before that preparing a piece of artwork is like preparing to entheogenically journey is like preparing to cast a spell. There's no difference, is there, Mr. BBC? In fact there is so little that i'm not entirely sure i could even disentangle by referencing the final outcome. With the first, there is assuredly something tangible, but the other two may produce tangible results as well. The second is the least likely, but then again what one brings back from journeys beyond thee Veil might well feed inspiration for the first; the creation of which involves the third.

i walk a razor's edge between the three, always have. Is this the line i walk?


i see no difference between that and a journey into Faerie; my Otherworld is equally at home and likely to appear under blacklights and strobes as by firelight 'gainst the trees. Most of my favourite bands would transport you straight into another realm, a shamanic, participatory event that Boujeloud himself would recognize.

These are the rituals of thee Kali yuga, mad Shaivites smearing themselves with cremation ashes - all is one, all is one, all is one.

And so if i write that i received email sent from beyond the grave last night, it is only of a piece, yes? i've known precious few shamen who were Conscious enou that i'd credit them the ability to work such a piece of majik. One, i believe, spent himself in a last final effect of simply staying alive - those who know me know that story. Another - well, might once have had that power, but chose to forego it, at least from my perspective. The third - must there be three for such things? - the third has pulled it off i do so solemnly swear. Here, have an example of art becoming majik in his hands:


Now, before anyone texts this in to the National Enquirer.. the email is 'only' from an autoresponder. That it bears a crowbird's stamp as apparent sender is merely a fluke of how he set it up. That it comes from a message board that was never, ever active, long months after i might have thought it shut down is explainable, if unusual. That the very next message in my inbox queue *has his name as subject line* - well, an accident of fate, innit? Particularly if the message notification was just a pointer to the same poem the second email carried.

It isn't. The friend who sent the poem doesn't even know the dreamland board exists.

Each year i seem to lose several friends. A drawback to aging i suppose; moreso because walking a razor's edge is a path few can navigate well. i was going to say, successfully, but i'm far from certain 'success' is a term one can apply to such a pursuit. This last year saw three losses of people whose impact on the community they left behind was much greater than they likely ever knew in life. One was simply a Good Person, a spirit everyone liked and no one thought could leave so soon. One was that and an artist/activist/focalizer besides, whose impact here echoed tho she moved from the area two decades before. The third - its triangles, triangles, triangles all the way down - all i can say is, whether he's got a tin shack in the mountains of Bulgaria or spends most of his days in crow form winging about the piney woods above Mabon, he came back to town this weekend. And he sent me an email to say hello.

Gifts and Gratuituous Gnomes

Hokay. Well. i established this blog a while back to be my For Public Consumption one - yes, there are others. No, i am not going to tell you where. Having gotten that far, i've proceeded to flounder. Whatinole do i write about, if it *isn't* teh Excruciating Personal, eh? This is an ongoing challenge, and scrolling back will give you different answers for different days. (Also, as of this writing, it will give you different answers all on the SAME day, today. As i've yet to figure out how to fix that particular java error).

Well, today's installment shall be about ~me~, i guess, minus the waahngst. Which is rather silly, given all six of you who read this :::checks follower list::: - nine! Whoa welcome new people! - i think most of you know me one way or another anyway. But for the sheer fuggovit..

Pleased to meet you, i don't believe we've met. My name's Ian, and.. oh wait no. My name, well that's a variable thing too. i've had a lot of them over the years. a LOT. sade has been the most constant, and that's not 'shar-day', that's like the Manson chick if you were wonderin'. Some days i am also the Fabulous Sascha Peppercorn, which is a play within a play if all the world's a stage. And yes, theatre - acting - thank you - is a major part of my life.

No wait, back up - *performance* is my life. Sometimes that happens in a theater. Most times it does not. i am but an actor chappie who often plays the role of Judith (hopefully never Quaisoir) playing the role of sade playing Sascha. Got me? i am a living ongoing work of performance art. Not to the point of pointing a camera at myself 24/7, tho i guess i might now be capable of just that. Consider everything you see me do in that frame, tho, and we'll get on fine.

Camera. Ah. Yes. That was where i started. Despite having spent part of my college years in broadcasting classes, i am not a camera person. Photography is ~ok~, but i've never been immersed or fascinated by it the way so many are. In a sense, i don't *get it* - to me, a camera is, and has always been, a tool for two purposes and two only: record a snapshot of a moment or event; record a visual impression for later use in making Real Art. (There - that should piss off any photog friends who accidentally stumble across this ;-) i even dropped photography in college because the Process of it was just needless BS complication to me. i don't care about chemicals and exposures and silver papers and all that; i just want a PICTURE, for use as a later tool.

Fast forward to the 21st century. Over this past Yule, i happened to be gifted with two fabulously swell new tools: my little, as-yet-unnamed netbook, and a sweet Nikon CoolPix camera. It was much easier for me to begin using the first; i KNOW what to do with a computer. The second, tho, i had to poke and prod and sniff at a while. i am still finding out things about it (oh shit! that's recording video!! no no stopstopstop) - like, say, how to get pictures off of it and onto the laptop.

i has solved that problem. Behold:

That one's purely gratuitous. There was no reason to take it, except maybe when i don't live here anymore i can look back and Remember. But now that i have Little Toy One and Little Toy Two, i'm thinking that i can put them together here. Not so much in this post, tho that was my first intention (see previous post for Teh Art). But as a way of documenting this whatever-it-is i do, the things my muse demands of me.

i am, my life is, an ongoing experiment in art and magick. "We set out to change the world and only wound up changing ourselves". People who know me as the Celestial Mother or some goofy old hippie lady don't know that i am a *very* determined and driven fishie. My persistence is subtle.. i've been known to say i'm too dumb to know when i'm beaten and should fall down, so i just keep on pressing forward. i think this is the major reason i'm still standing, still somehow not dead, somehow not permanently screwed. Tho i go with Daevid Allen on that one: You Never Blow Your Trip Forever. Or to use a completely unrelated quote, Nothing is *very* bad.

This blog, then, careens wildly in all directions. It may be about art, it may be about magick, it may be about the hedgebear as winter king having a shadow because he is still mortal and must battle winter another six weeks. It may be about the vortex tribe or my gnome collection

(except for the little one holding a pole that used to be a rake, those aren't the GOOD gnomes. They're stuck in storage limbo) or the little guys in my china cabinet who aren't gnomes but are certainly their friends

or how it is i can be a big fan of Charles DeLint but am finding War For The Oaks rather twee. All of which are about the *same* thing, really, but its a game of Spot Your Lucky Warts to figure out what it is.

And if you do, would you please tell me? I'd kinda really like to know..

Picture pages, picture pages, start your day with picture pages, lots of fun with cameras and with pixels!

Yesterday, Saturday, i went over to the theater to help prep the season brochure mailer. Fortunately, we had an accidentally-collated box of mailers, so we didn't have to do that. But we DID have to affix return-address labels, mailing labels, and stamps to over 1,000 envelopes.. stuff them with mailers.. add inserts about the upcoming benefit (Vegas Royale Spectaculare, Feb 20th, Lounge Kitty and Martini Five-Oh baby, yeah).. seal the envelopes and put them in a box. My work area looked like this:

Note the Rome to Milano trivet in the background, a souvenir from last year's season closer, Ouroborous. That took most of my afternoon.

When i left, i decided to head down to Steelyard, see if i could get some things i needed at Deal$. On my way down the drive, i was struck by the lovely view over the remaining bit of actual steelyard industry. AND i remembered i now have this spiffy camera (see the post before, or maybe after, this one). i couldn't take a pic while driving, so i parked over by the T-Mobile store, got out, and hiked back up to Quigley - i think that's Quigley. It was pretty effing crisp out. i had to put my hoodie up to keep my ears from freezing. My boots were not made for winter hiking. It was awesome. And here's the pic i took:


When i got home, i made dinner. Tai Pei frozen garlic shrimp with extra vegetables added by me. Half of what the carryout Chinese cost the night before, healthier, equally as tasty. i am, however, not yet so pathetic as to take a picture of my augmented frozen dinner, so you have to imagine that part. After dinner, i fiddled and putzed and doo-dah-ed around the house for the rest of the night. Those who follow my twitter stream know that i'm trying to make myself paint again - yes, this is an undertaking. i've got Things in the way of doing that, but i am trying to clear them out and get back to it.

Naturally, because it is me and i am Complex, the piece that has gotten past my internal logjam is demanding to be Complex too. i *want* (i think?) to be doing simpler pop-art pieces. i have at least one in mind with a self-imposed deadline on it. i have Ideas for half a dozen pieces. This is what's on the board.


You'll note no actual paint is involved here. And its on a shitty cheap canvas board from AG thats been in storage for twenty years. Trust me, if i decided No, i Must Stretch Real Canvas, NOTHING would ever move forward here again. i have this stuff coz my dad used to work for them (er - make that *thirty* years in storage??). i am not Saving it for anything. What is my excuse?

Last night i also decided to randomly google for a recipe for vegan corned beef. i found one. i found out i have all (well, almost all) the ingredients. i also have everything i need for a New England boiled dinner, aka corned beef and cabbage, which is so much a favorite i ask my mom to make it for my birthday and indulge once a year in actual corned beef (despite popular belief, i have not been a vegetarian for well over a decade. But i was for so long before that its really all i know how to cook). So round about 2 am i decided to start making this. It also did not get a picture taken of it, because an uncooked gluten loaf is not the most visually appealing thing on earth, let's say, and i pay attention to CakeWrecks. Don't you?

Today i got up and decided to finish the boiled dinner in the crock pot. Only my auxiliary kitchen counter has reverted to its secret identity as drafting table. What to do? Well, here's the solution.


See the crockpot? See the steam that is not rising out of it? For the past two hours i've been checking and poking it and wondering if its finally bought the farm because it was Not Getting Hot.

Then i plugged it in.

And with that, dear cats and kittens, i must away. i have an Event to manage in an hour; it might be a good idea to prepare, ya think? Love ya. Truly. Mwaah.

Space Mother tribe

Not long enough slow Sunday. i have to perform tonight - Audio-Visual Baptism 12, at Now That's Class - and i know, *know*, i'm not prepared. Of course i've done the glasswalking enough times i can about do it in my sleep; that part doesn't really worry me. Maybe it should; tho my feet are always tough, the depths of winter don't quite condition them properly (for those who don't know, glasswalking consists of me walking a six-foot tray of broken beer bottles and then jumping off a stepladder into it for a finale).

But i'm more concerned about the rest of the act - do i add some accordion, if so what; not having touched the thing in months until a day or two ago. Never having any songs really *learned* and certainly none rehearsed. And of course, the crisis nearest a costumer's heart: What to Wear?? Normally i LIVE in tights in winter, but i need to be able to get barefoot quickly, so those are out. i don't have to wear anything special at all, of course, but it is sort of part of the whole routine. And if i put together An Outfit, will that also require painting my face? That sounds like so much work. But i am kind of fond of some modified commedia facial art. Probably won't decide til i'm there.



Of course, the reason i don't feel like doing any of this today is that last night was a night out w/my wild grrlz. Women (womyn, wimmin) 40 and above, with roots in the punk scene, colorful pasts and *still* colorful present.S. Right now we are a small tribe but could easily double and triple in size, as each of us could potentially bring in three or four more who 'really should' be there. For right now, tho, we're a small tribe of fierce wimmin who go out terrorizing the locals, or at least hijacking random karaoke bars. Naturally, this requires the consumption of a certain amount of alcohol.. while i amazingly do NOT feel particularly hungover today - the quantum effects of proximity to so much coolness? - i still do not feel at the top of my game.

Which is why i'm sitting here in my bathrobe writing this instead of getting my act together for someplace i have to be in an hour. Dear me. Someone shall have to spank me. And on that note..

To-Done list

Yesterday was a good day, a high energie day. Yesterday i:

put in a job application at a place i have a good feeling about;

picked up a friend's pupster who needed puppy-sat for the day;

took the pupster to my water brother's house; we were trading off (sharing?) puppy custody;

got coffee at Civilizations and used their wi-fi;

worked at the Free Clinic;

met my water brother at Edison's, where i had some difficulty persuading him pupster needed to go home;

wound up hanging out at said bro's house for a while, eating dinosaur-shaped chickn nuggets and watching Popaganda: the Art Crimes of Ron English;

finally took the tired pupster back to his momma;

had a nice long conversation w/puppy-momma about creativity and other good stuff.

Today was not yesterday.

i did:

take down and put away my Yule tree;

clean up my worktable almost all the way;

sweep the kitchen;

knock a couple smaller things off my to-do list;

spend too much time on Facebook;

pick up the accordion for a minute and depress myself with how out of practice i am;

drag myself out to Dollar(and twenny-nine cent) Paradise, where i at least got grapefruit juice, yum;

stop at Pat Catan's for some fairy lights and teeny silk roses to make up for the Yule lights being down;

lose my leopard gloves :-( ;

pick a really bad time to stop by the bookstore;

but still make arrangements to hold an initial discussion group for the workshops i plan to give;

have the gremlin cat suddenly locate a belt i've been looking for for months;

listen to all the Coil i own;

answer a difficult email;

do some laundry;

get some things written that i needed to get said;

fail at getting to bed before 4 a.m.
which may sound like a lot but still feels very unproductive. Tomorrow i will try to do better, or at least feel better about what i do.

The End.

Village Witcheries

Y helo thar blogspot. We has not spoked at each other in a while. No point now in trying to say why; Now is the only thing that's Real, as Uncle Chuck would remind me. Where's now?

Now is two years away from 2012. Now is a world in which half the people i know don't have jobs and half of those who do are underemployed or hate what they're doing. Now is a world in which our national resources have been and are being squandered by the fistful in pursuit of the dead dreams of cold-war kids grown to treacherously myopic adulthood. Now the robber barons grow fat and gluttonous on our despair. Now is a moment - THE moment - in which we can, we must make a change.

Now, viewed through one set of lenses, is pretty effing grim - but i don't wear those glasses. What is reality? A peacock on a darkened winter lawn? Perhaps. The edges of reality seem to me to fray and tatter the closer we look. Of course there are those, those same selfish aging children, who prefer we never get close enough to the worn and ravelled bits to notice. They dangle an endless parade of Shiny Bits and String, luring us back to the cable corrals constructed to keep the sheeple penned and hemmed. Is there any safe thing we can stream from the idiot box? i wonder. i fail to trust anything too mass produced, taking the Smiley Face Principal as my guide: the more pieces there are of a thing, the more its energies are dissipated. Ov course a symbol can also be a 'physical' repository for emotional charging, so no matter how many swastikas there are, for instance, they're unlikely to ever become as trite as the Golden Arches.

But Now, another set of lenses are at hand. While the world is no more likely to end Dec 21, 2012 than at Y2K or Oct. 22, 1844, the potential for it to *change* is strongly at hand - if for no other reason than people expect it to. Whether enough people expect this strongly enough to create any true and lasting change is very much open to speculation - but for the sake of argument, i am going to proceed As If it were possible.

"Once - Majik was real, and thee Veil between the worlds was thin. And our people of the shadow worlds, the dream realms and fantasy dimensions dwelled in the woodlands, oceans, and ancient ruins of this world. They called us angels, faeries, demons or fair folke. We gave inspiration to the humans so that they may be creative: we are the dream-makers, the shadow weavers, the myth-catchers.

Now, as the natural world dies and humans lose their faith in magic, we are retrating back to our home worlds or shifting for a short time into changelines. For we see that humans no longer believe. And when magic dies, the Dreaming dies; and when the Dreaming dies, so does all the beauty of this world both dark and light. When magic goes out of this world, we go with it - and while you may not notice our passing, you shall know that we are gone by the greyness, the drab sameness of your world in our absence.

We do not wish to leave this world to its tears, its greyness. We therefore invite you to join us in a short yet sacred ritual containing magic both beautiful and ghastly. It matters not whether what you see are illusions or of the supernatural. Only Belief is important. Only Belief can keep the Dreaming alive."

Is this story Real? Is a thought of a unicorn a Real thought? (And what *about* those colorless green ideas, hm?) The fact is, as we discovered on the train, man, tomorrow never really happens. Its all the same fucking day, man. Yeah i lifted that too, but its an early version (to me) of the same truth. Who is the artist that makes the grass green? And what color is an orange, really?

It is in pursuit of the answers to these and other questions that i follow the flickering will-o-the-wisp that dares to call itself my destiny. i have stepped off a cliff, in perfect love and graveyard dust, in trust a cartoon cloud would rise beneath my feet. As long as i *believe* myself to be walking on solid ground, i am able to cross thee abyss. Is this True? Does it matter? Tho five minutes from now i may fall to lose it all, right now, just for today, this minute, this instant that shall never come again - i am in thee air.

At Samhain i wove a spell. Short and small, i did not complete all the parts that suggested themselves to me for fear of binding. But the shrine i honored and the prayer i spoke seem to have led to subtle yet definite variations - i am more and more certain i no longer inhabit the 'same' universe as this time last year. Of course one could argue that every breath creates a new world; but this is the far side of the butterfly effect. eXistenZ is not paused, but i have left a game within a game within. i need not name here thee energies i have invoked; one may look at me and judge, or ask me in the heart of the vortex. Suffice to say i feel thee dark hand ov chance steering me towards a stranger, truer, more active path than i have walked before.

i choose and guide as ever by signs and portents. A strong one - too strong, perhaps? - fell literally a week before the Solstice; an omen i've yet to fully interpret. i know only that i am Called ever more strongly: manifest-manifest-manifest. That my absurd and lunatic optimism must carry me every furthur on - and so, somehow, it does. At every turn, fall of near-crisis, something comes through and i am granted one more cloud, travel that much closer to thee far side ov this abyss. Only Belief is important, and the more i allow mySELF to believe, the more Belief itself is - sufficient.

My way now weaves a path i have not yet walked. It runs not so beside the track i walked before, tho' that still lies near (only two days away). i do not Know already where this path may lead; it is unlike thee other, unlike any other i've danced - but dance it i must. i could shy and hie me away, back to the safety of the known - but i would lose the cloud that carries me forward. My fingers know this better than i. By making this choice with eyes as open as i can, i seem also to have accessed something new. Something true. Thee ability to make things happen on a scale i've not dared touch - and perhaps beyond that, to a scale i don't yet dare perceive (but have, in sleepless dream). Time was - time is - time shall be no more.

i don't believe that has anything to do with this post directly, other than i'm listening to Current 93, Coil, Zoviet France as i write. Then again - perhaps it does. Perhaps as i step off, and step off, and step off into ever-deeper (yet narrower) abysses, to fall more slowly and less far each time; perhaps time is turning in to space.

i am become the Village Witch. For a particular village and a particular tribe; tho i've allegiances with other tribes and from time to time i have obligations to fulfill with them as well. This holiday season tested and proved both those things: as is ever the case, my presence was requested more places than i could manage to be. Well, that's social gadfly normal; but this year it seemed that i was tending to, and celebrating with, my flock at every turn.

Claiming this title feels arrogant to me; o right. What makes *me* thee old wise womyn - after all, its not like i'm the only pagan in the neighborhood. Certainly not the most initiated. And how do i even KNOW i am; just cause i've not encountered another? i don't, quite honestly. In fact, to my eyes there are unsuspected sages more places than you'd think; but they're unsuspected. Whereas i'm Out There, and the more i state this for the record, the more the universe/my tribe seems to be taking me up on it.

And so the road goes ever on. i lead a life of music, dance, spirit, theater and art, in thee absurd belief that i SHOULD be able to do so; that this is Just and Right and will somehow fall into place because. In the Now of wolf-thought, i have let go and let God/dess, and this is where S/He has brought me. One foot extended in the snake dance.