Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Deemed Worthy

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Outside of this rural subdivision, past the dental practice, old berry farm and butcher stands a tiny little hamlet of a forest on a busy country road surrounded by wheat fields, industrial complexes and new housing. It's recognized woodland, protected and cared for by the government (official trails tricked out with wooden walkways, painted sign posts indicating various routes, sections actively cleared for conservation purposes) and a favorite haunt for nature-lovin' locals.

Obsolete

When you don't rely on a handbook and compass it's sometimes hard to know if you're on the right track. No one's left a reference book for you at the crossroads, so when you wander down the perpendicular lane to the eternal line cutting through your path it's just you, wilderness and your gut. Guidance and confirmation comes from hours-days-weeks of patiently watching out for signs while schizophrenically dismantling secret codes found in every day (seemingly mundane) experiences. Sometimes you're rewarded with an immediate response that borders on divine intervention, sometimes you have to spend a month sifting through 28-31 days of shit just to find two ("n", "o") or three ("y", "e" & "s") simple letters.

Crow Wishbone; Ultimate Wish

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How much would you be willing to pay for the ultimate wish?

Nature's Reclamation

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I'm so far behind on Graveyard Dirt shit my ass ain't even laughing anymore. I've got so many things to show you, so many fucking stories to tell and projects to talk about and jokes to mess up and mad-brilliant-stupid ideas to tentatively explain and photos that perfectly - PERFECTLY! - illustrate all of the above (well, in most cases). And HOW do I decide to tackle this monumental undertaking? By writing about our (previously) overgrown front yard. (<- You want priories? I got them RIGHT HERE, motherfucker.)

Goddamn Lucky

Walked down to the cemetery. Ate wild cherries. Watched a raptor hunt. Passed between barbed wire fences. Waded through overgrown pastureland. Had sex in the ruined church. Freed the wild gooseberry bush. Wandered down a shady lane to the local kirkyard. Knocked on A.S.'s "grave". Sat with the graveyard rabbits. Watched Italics take pictures of graveyard rabbits. Watched families of swallows dip above overgrown pastureland. Straightened the nun's grave. Left an offering on Muriel's grave. Left offerings at the cemetery cairn. Poured Didi's ("grandfather") bottle of Heineken over his Midwinter bread at Papa's grave. Left a chocolate cigar for Papa behind his headstone. Left the Leprechaun in the cairn tree. Drank water from the kirkyard's faucet. Waved good-bye to graveyard rabbits and swallows. Walked back home, admiring shimmering wheat fields of green-gold while appreciating how goddamn lucky I am.

Anointed

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"...and thou shalt anoint the tabernacle of the congregation therewith, and the ark of the testimony..." - Exodus 30:26 (King James Version)

My "Office"

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Ladies and gentlemen, my "office". (Well, one of several...)

Saturn Return

See you in another 30 years, old man Saturn.

Junkyard Amulet 01: New Beginnings

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"Junkyard Amulets"; one of a kind talismans, charms and amulets resurrecting the lost, found and excavated into unsubtle pieces of magical intent. Description and details of 01: New Beginnings to follow.

Wretchedly Sick

We're sick. Like, wretchedly sick. What started out as "my stomach is acting retarded; I'm swallowing a lot of air" ended with projectile vomiting (over the floor, over two walls, the sink's basin, the sink's stand and practically every part of the fucking toilet). Italics, thankfully, made less of a mess than me (he managed to just hit the bathroom floor).

If you're expecting an email from me it might be another day or two. This is some serious shit we're experiencing (Italics? has only thrown up //4// times in the 13 years we've been involved) and I'm having a helluva time staying vertical. In fact, this is the first time I've been able to get out of bed in 12 motherfucking hours.

Pretty Fucking Magic

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How magic is a black crow with two white nails? Pretty fucking magic, dude.

Streusel Rhubarb Bread

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So, like, I was bad yesterday. Really fucking bad. I had my pot of coffee (decaf, but that's okay since Papa's black ass has begun to appreciate the wide world of flavored coffee) but I didn't email anyone. I mean, I did, but I don't think the incomplete correspondence totaling five whole paragraphs still sitting in my drafts folder to my girl E really constitutes as "writing and replying to email".

Homemade Antidepressant

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Fulfilling a V. old promise for a friend who could use a hug right now. And, also, ruining a surprise. Oops.