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.