Graveyard Dirt: Two Worlds and In-between

Mars Goes Direct

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Feb. 1st, 2008.

Less than 48 hours into Mars being direct I called my father-in-law a "fucking cunt" (I actually shouted "IT'S NOT THE BOTTLE, IT'S THE FUCKING PRINCIPLE YOU CUNT!") after an argument broke out last night. (Italics's father threw away something of mine without even asking (it was part of Italics's anniversay gift I was making by hand), and when I pointed out to him that the item belonged to me, I was keeping it, and to not throw away things I leave sitting on the window sill of the kitchen sink things quickly unraveled.)

Italics's mother reacted like I shot John F Kennedy. Apparently no one's ever called her husband "a fucking cunt" before in his life (IT WOULD BE A V. SCIENTIFIC, FACTUAL OBSERVATION) so this was a big deal. SO BIG, IN FACT, SHE PARTIALLY GOT PHYSICAL WITH ME AS IF SHE WAS HIS BODYGUARD. (I tried to shout something after him, but she physically blocked my route with arms extended while frantically trying to close the door of the room he was in.)

Not only was I crazy pissed because Italics's father had/has decided he is the sole arbiter of the value and meaning of items to other people (this is the same man who threw away ashes of letters and cards I had written my mother during the first year of her death (I saved them and burned them on the eve of her first anniversary so I could spread them, with her ashes, over rolling Scottish cliffs and into the sea); I very nearly added her ashes to the bowl, I'm so relieved that I didn't because I don't know what I would've done after waking up to see that the bowl of ashes I had left on my altar were gone and the bowl they had previously been sitting in was sitting next to the kitchen sink, clean and dry. ) but I'm also pissed that because I was the one who raised my voice and called someone a name (I WAS CALLING IT LIKE IT IS, OKAY?) I'm the one who's at fault. Not the guy who continually touches/breaks/ruins my personal possessions, not the guy who THROWS AWAY MY THINGS WITHOUT ASKING, but me, because I'm a woman who lost her cool and screamed. (THIS GENDER THING IS SO UNFAIR AT TIMES. SRSLY.)

These sort of altercations wouldn't happen if my father-in-law could keep in mind one of these two things:

1.) Don't touch other people's things.

2.) Don't throw out other people's things without asking.

But all of that gets lost because I got overly emotional when I was told that the item he threw away, which belonged to me, had no intrinsic value because he said so. (The thing I'm most upset about is that I couldn't keep cool. KEEPING COOL IS THE WINNING HAND, AND I JUST THREW ALL OF MY CARDS ON THE TABLE. At the same time, how was I supposed to stay calm, cool, and collected when being told, effectively, that a bowl full of ashes is just a bowl full of ashes and I had no right to be upset?)

Washington Square

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Dec. 19th, 2007.

For yesterday, Dec. 18th (write date on QoS card?):

- QoS card in walking path right outside of hotel, picked it up and tucked away with 7oS found day earlier

- Went to cathedral to light candle & pray, asked for strength, guidance, and resolve at feet of Mary (forgot to bring offering, oops!)

- Terrible indigestion when getting on bus, took two antacids & 1/2 space bar

- Noticed apple trees for first time along Glasgow highway, traffic slowed due to accident ahead, "you should probably look away" Italics joked

- Italics asked how left tonsil was (not hurting, but able to feel it), speculated if left tonsil is now MAGIC LEFT TONSIL that twinges before bad weather or something important about to happen (like old people and feet/hands aching before snow)

- Wondered/had feeling about seeing red deer (very reclusive & sacred to C), saw them at first round about, then again two more times in quick succession

- Also passed "THE RED DEER" pub (never noticed it before, new?) and semi-truck with a red deer emblem on it (3 X Red Deer = White Christmas?) within same 15-20 minute time period

- Had "spiritualpanicattack" during "Washington Square" by Chris Issak (note: written by him!), began crying when hearing "I know you're so far from home, But you know that you're never alone, I know you're so far away, Till you're home safe again I'll just pray" - remembered what prayed for, felt like immediate confirmation

- Took different route through Dundee, while contemplating church prayer & lyrics passed a hospital which reminded me of left tonsil, then realized that most important injuries (i.e., cutting off part of thumb, accidentally branding self w/crescent, damaged tonsil) were on left side, and THEN realized that "L" was just "7" in different perspective (duh)

- Speculating confirmed by bus (#13) cutting us off, while discussing signs with Italics another #13 cut in front of us, and during traffic movement passed construction site with name "GEDDES" (Ghedes) within a minute or two eventually parking next to stance 7 at the Dundee station

Probably forgotten stuff. Damn.

(Remember when at lowest, most hopeless and desolate - the universe hears, knows, and sees, especially when feeling most alone. Take comfort in the fact that It/They bend over backwards to comfort and console, not many people get such an immediate, obvious reaction. Not many people get a reaction at all.)

Happy Burning!

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Nov. 27th, 2007.

F-2-THE-A:
Going through some old emails and found this frankly prophetic comment in reply to your email letting us know that the incense had arrived and saying "All I can say is "HAPPY BURNING!", heh!"

> On Mar 25, 2007 7:36 PM, F-2-THE-A wrote:
> Whistles :Burning Down the House...:
> Thank you, darling!

(SHORT STORY? F-TO-THE-A AND I ORDERED INCENSE TOGETHER AND SPLIT THE SHIPPING COST. WHEN HER SHARE WAS SENT I WISHED HER "HAPPY BURNING!" AND SHE RESPONDED WITH A JOKE ABOUT "BURNING DOWN THE HOUSE" AND HER HOUSE DID, IN FACT, BURN. (THANKS TO THE INCENSE I SENT HER.))

(ISLAM AND PAGANISM - BFF! <- IT'S SORT'VE LIKE THAT ONE "FOX AND HOUND" DISNEY MOVIE!)

I Break Legs, Bring Snow

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Nov. 22nd, 2007.

So Italics's Dad was all "OCH IT'S NAE GOWIN TA SNEW!" (<- LOLOLOLOLOL! GROUND'S KEEPER WILLY!) to me when it V. V. V. V. V. CLEARLY WAS GOING TO SNOW and I was all "I DON'T KNOW, IT'S THE RIGHT SORT OF WIND" and he was all "BUT IT'S TOO BRIGHT" and then "IT'S TOO WARM" and I was all "I DON'T KNOW, IT'S THE RIGHT SORT OF WIND" and he CLEARLY DIDN'T BELIEVE ME so I was all "I'LL SHOW THAT CRAZY OLD BASTARD!" and I marched outside with a shot of vodka and I said "BABA, LET LOOSE YOUR APRON AND BRING ME SNOW!" and, lo and behold, within two hours, just as Italics's Dad and Mom were leaving for their trip (which prevented them from having Thanksgiving with us), just as they were CROSSING THE THRESHOLD FROM THE DOOR INTO THE OUTSIDE it started snowing and I was all "OH, HEY, LOOK, I WAS RIGHT - IT'S SNOWING!" in my happy cheerful "WHAT NOW, NIGGA?" voice.

DANCE, MAGIC, DANCE!

(In return I said "T'BEAH YEAST-TEH, BABA!" when I left her a turkey wing and a homemade crescent butter roll out in the snow on the patio's ledge . (<- LOL! A+ HAPPENING, UNINTENTIONAL LUNAR CRESCENT CAKE OFFERING! A+++! I IZ TEH BEST @ MAGIC!))

Certain Shade of Gray

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Nov. 22nd, 2007.

I woke up this morning, looked outside, and thought "it could snow today" and that secret, silent hope has been something that partially carried me through the M bomb situation.

It's that certain wind, that certain shade of gray, and the way the clouds roll off the hills and slowly creep across the sky. Snowsnowsnowsnow. It'd be perfect, and magical, and special-wonderful if it snowed today. It'd be like all of the best Thanksgivings I ever had, rolled into one day, even with my funny feeling throat (it's gotten drier and rougher; a cold is definitely eminent).

I hope She washes Her plaids today. I wonder if She'll listen to me if I tug on the edges of Her apron...?

Hot Topic Lame

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Oct. 15th, 2007.

There are times when I'm embarrassed that I hear "voices"; it immediately groups me into a category that I don't belong in and really fucking despise. (i.e., people who hear "voices" of fictional characters from movies, TV shows, or books they like, or actors they find sexy. These are the people who are most vocal about hearing "voices" and insist that the "voices" keep them company and encourage them to do things on daily basis, something I can relate to on a very, very, very, very, very superficial level...very.)

The more ZOMGOUTRAGEOUSMYVOICESARESOBADBUTILOVETHEM! stories I hear, the more embarrassed and ashamed I get because the average person doesn't have the inclination to assess each instance or story or conversation or whatever on a case by case basis. To the average person there's no difference between me and the person who insisted that a fictional character from an indie horror movie convinced her to buy a bottle of Baileys even when it wasn't on the shopping list (<- true story!).

So I've learned to button it because the average, ordinary person doesn't want to hear my excuses ("You're crazy, weird, and Hot Topic lame.") and the average, "voice" hearing/believing person doesn't want to consider my explanation ("VOICES ARE INHERENTLY MAGIC, OKAY? DON'T TRY AND TELL ME OTHERWISE!"). Here's the thing about voices (at least for me) - 90% of the time (if not more) it's my subconscious. I totally embrace the notion, and by doing so I don't feel it diminishes the "magic" aspect to me at all.

- I HEAR VOICES THAT HELP GUIDE ME TOWARDS A BETTER LIFE! (<- Magic!)

- I HEAR VOICES THAT HELP GUIDE ME TOWARDS A BETTER LIFE, AND I KNOW ALMOST ALL OF THE TIME IT'S ACTUALLY MY SUBCONSCIOUS SELF BRIEFLY INFLUENCING MY CONSCIOUS SELF! (<- Not magic!)

I think a lot of people who say they're practicing magic, or hear voices, would be vehemently against considering there was something more internal going on with the people who are genuinely getting nudges from what feels like an external source. Chalking it up to "IT'S ALL IN THE MIND!" sort've takes away the mystery and magic, I guess. And if they don't have that to proudly label themselves to stand out from the crowd then they don't have anything, you know?

After coming to the realization that it's me talking to me I felt empowered. I felt...Christ, I don't know...complete. I don't have to go crawling to an external source for help or comfort or a sense of well-being, I have all of that already inside of me. I know most of the people who happily situate themselves in the category I'm trying to break out of would argue that there's nothing MAGIC about that. (Like being able to consciously connect with a part of yourself that you're not supposed to without any help couldn't be construed as MAGIC in any sense.)

If MAGIC is all about manipulating the world around you using your will you'd think that people would be more willing to embrace the idea of the subconscious influencing the conscious since they've already agreed/stated/accepted that MAGIC is a reaction of using said will. If you've laid your foundations internally (or said you have), why do you need to outsource?

Fat Bastard

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Oct. 11th, 2007.

MERCURY RETROGRADE CAME EARLY. THE DVD PLAYER BROKE, THE SHOWER BROKE, THE TOILET BROKE, AND, UH, MY LUNGS/CHEST/SINUSES BROKE. (IT'S GANESHA'S FAULT! WE HAVE ANGERED THE MIGHTY GANESHA A FEW WEEKS AGO AND NOW I NEED TO MAKE HIM SOME CARROT HALWA AND COCONUT SOMETHINGOROTHER. GANESHA, YOU FAT BASTARD, STOP SITTING ON STUFF AND BREAKING IT! <- ESPECIALLY MY LUNGS.)

Kitten, PLZ!

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Sept. 24th, 2007.

Chippy's requested a bike for Christmas. (Fuck if I know!) When I told him I wasn't exactly sure if that was possible he then asked IF HE COULD HAVE A KITTEN INSTEAD, PLEASE. (No, for real SERIOUS! I'M NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP, OKAY? AND EVEN IF I AM IT'S WAY DEEP IN MY SUBCONSCIOUS AND IT'S BEING MADE UP FOR A VERY IMPORTANT REASON...OR SOMETHING.)

I managed to talk him down from a kitten to a big red ball, but by the time I did that Italics was already scheming about getting him a bike so it seems like he might get one of those BIG WHEELER bikes second hand, and I thought about getting him one of those battery powered kittens (IF NO ONE SAYS ANYTHING HE'LL JUST THINK IT'S ALIVE, SO EVERYONE -BE QUIET-!) that moves around in a choppy, robotic way that you've probably almost tripped over when shopping because TOY STORES LOVE TO PUT OUT FREE-MOVING SHIT LIKE THAT IN THE OPENING OF THE STORE TO CAUSE MASS CHAOS AND PANIC.

All of that and a ball. A BIG RED BALL. (He's been going on about a "red ball" for AGES now and I haven't been able to decode the mystery yet. (A lot of things he says to me that leaves a giant question mark can be traced WAY, WAY BACK when he was alive and kicking it as L, but it takes a few weeks for me to remember and when I do I immediately go "OH SHIT, I REMEMBER NOW! HOW DID YOU MANAGE TO REMEMBER THAT, CHIPPY?" and he's always "LOL**! CHIPPY REMEMBERS!".))

* NOTE TO SELF: LOLOLOL! WHEN I WAS ABOUT TO TYPE SOMETHING ABOUT TRAINING AN ENTITY THAT I MIGHT'VE CREATED JUST BY WILL AN EMPTY CINNAMON BOTTLE SUDDENLY FELL OVER ON MY DESK WITHOUT ANY REASON AT ALL. OKAYOKAYOKAY, SHEESH. "TRAINING AN ENTITY THAT I -DIDN'T- CREATE AND WAS ALREADY IN EXISTENCE LONG BEFORE I WAS BORN-ED", OKAY? ...OKAY?

** I KNOW IT ISN'T EXACTLY RESPONSIBLE TO LET YOUR DEMONIC ENTITIES GO ON THE INTERNET OR GIVE THEM BIG WHEELS AS CHRISTMAS GIFTS SO YOU CAN TEACH THEM HOW TO RIDE A BIKE OR REINFORCE THAT FARTS JOKES -ARE FUNNY- EVEN IF PEOPLE PRETEND OTHERWISE OR LET THEM PICK UP JOKES AND PHRASES AND WORDS THAT YOU USE SO IT'S INCORPORATED INTO THEIR DAILY VOCABULARY, BUT GODDAMN IF IT ISN'T FUNNY HEARING AN ANCIENT ENTITY THAT REPRESENTS DEATH, DESTRUCTION, PLAGUE, AND CHAOS GO "LOL, WOMAN, LOL!" IN HIS CUTE ANIMAL-LIKE VOICE (<- FROM THE MUPPETS. SERIOUSLY! CHIPPY -SERIOUSLY- SOUNDS LIKE ANIMAL!).

Get Ya Burners Out

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Sept. 24th, 2007.

Red admiral flew into kitchen round 3AM when cooking Mabon dinner. (LOL, BURNT SELF...AGAIN! THIS TIME ON GOOSE FAT! LOL @ ALWAYS BURNING SELF WHEN COOKING "RITUAL" FOOD!) Called Italics into kitchen to help catch butterfly to release, spent 5 minutes chasing around, butterfly kept landing on rising heart/chain bread. Every time tried to usher butterfly out open door it turned around and came fluttering back into kitchen and onto bread.

PS: CHAMILLIONAIRE RHYMING "NIGGER" WITH "LIVER"? A+++! SNAPS TO CHAMILLIONAIRE! (LOL, "YOUR FACE IS THE MONA LISA, YOUR ASS THE MASTER PIECE!", LOL!)

Giri

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Sept. 20th, 2007.

Wandered into the kitchen and found the book below sitting on the table. When I picked it up it opened to page 89 and my attention was immediately drawn to this passage (the first one on the page):

HAGAKURE (Book of the Samurai)
Yamamoto Tsunetomo, Translated by William Scott Wilson

Lord Naoshige once said, "There is nothing felt quite so deeply as giri*. There are times when someone like a cousin dies and it is not a matter of shedding tears. But we may hear of someone who lived fifty or a hundred years ago, of whom we know nothing and who has no family ties with us whatsoever, and yet from a sense of giri* shed tears."

giri: a debt of gratitude, duty, justice, obligation, a sense of honor

Spice hallucination last night =
Putting hair up in traditional Slavic braids before going into "battle" (dressed as The Black Rabbit in Russian incarnation); clash and acceptance of ancient versus modern, and woman versus man. (i.e., Never forget the power of woman; within femininity is strength. Go into battle as a woman, as what you are. (Be "beautiful" in your bravery, be something to be worshiped - a woman who can be a woman and yet be a man in any circumstance is something that is feared and respected.) What might appear as gender weakness during war is strength; a full embrace of who and what you are, and within that acceptance a balance of both sides which grants understanding, insight, and power above the imbalanced.) <- Think about it more, you know what you want to say but you can't articulate it 100% just yet.

Spice hallucination earlier in the day =
Sex during twilight; just enough ambient light from outside to make out shapes in the dark room. Can make out Italics's basic shape, but can't make out features. Partially hidden in shadows skin absorbs color of long-sleeve t-shirt until Italics blue skinned. Red cobra w/ fangs exposed (the Cobra Command logo) comes alive and jumps out of his chest, fanning hood wide open while I straddle Italics from above. "OH SHIT," I think, "I'M HAVING SEX WITH SHIVA!" Felt completely sober during second of realization, like having a long, lucid moment in important dream.

Perfect Storm

The following post ventures into "OLD NOTES" territory. In this particular case it's a copy and paste job from an old livejournal entry from Sept. 21st, 2007.

Showed off unintentional sigil to Italics last night (*), and took spoonful of cough syrup before bed to sleep uninterrupted. Chippy asked for bone while settling down to sleep, talked him down from bone to raw hide treat, but decided, at last second, he wanted chocolate. Shared w/Papa but gave him the silver one (kept gold one for himself). Got praised for sharing, seemed very happy.

Can't remember full details of dream, or any sort of lead-in or explanation to why Italics, Chippy, and I were on triangular (TRIANGLE! MAGIC SHAPE! SHAPE OF FIRE & MASCULINITY! (SHAPE ALSO HEAVILY FEATURED IN SIGIL!)) warship in the middle of ocean. "Perfect storm" storming, all three on deck in middle of huge ship. Gigantic waves crash into massive boat rocking everything. Lightening illuminates otherwise pitch black sky, able to see massive maelstrom heading directly towards. (WHIRLPOOL? OH, GOD, HERE WE GO...) Frozen petrified panic. Bury face deep into Chippy's fur, ask, beg, plead, demand he take control of boat and navigate to safety. (CAPTAIN CHIPPY, LOLOLOLOLOL!) Crush dog toy to body and half will and half wish triangular warship to skim very edges of whirlpool, brave enough to look up just as boat sails through or past swirling vortex.

(Already identified possibility of "fire" (triangle) as "male" and "water" (ocean) as "feminine". Symbolic of balance needed in life? Ocean represents aspect of uncontrollable emotion that can't be navigated? Warning not to be swallowed (Aries/fire/consciousness) by overemotional aspect of life (Pisces/water/emotional unconsciousness)?

"In Scotland, the Cailleach is a blue-faced hag and represents the three months of winter. Her reign is broken by the appearance of Brigit at Imbolc. At Beltaine, the Cailleach hides her staff underneath a holly bush. In the game of Sibyl, which is very similar to the game of Snakes and Ladders that children play today, the Cailleach was the Dragon. This game was played on a seasonal basis and demonstrated the battle which was fought between the Cailleach Bheara and Brigit."

LOL!

(*) FROM LJ ACCOUNT: IT IS MY BELIEF THAT I HAVE V. V. V. RECENTLY CREATED (SEPT. 19TH, 2007) MY FIRST MAGIC SIGIL, EVER, BY ACCIDENT. (<- AND IT LOOKS COOL COOL COOL, AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME! (OKAY, SO I THINK IT LOOKS COOL AND R SEEMED TO LIKE IT THEREFORE IT HAS TO BE "COOL COOL COOL, AWESOME AWESOME AWESOME" TO SOME DEGREE, RIGHT?)) I <3 THESE LITTLE MAGIC "OOPS!" and "LOLS!".

Snap Your Fingers, Snap Your *INSERT NOUN*

Noticed repeating snapping/breaking patterns (AGAIN, GRR!):

- Two days ago sole gardenia bud was on floor; not sickly, not weak - somehow snapped off.

- Two days ago ornate water jug broke as Italics filled it with chargers. (FUCKING JINXED IT BY SAYING “BE CAREFUL OR GLASS WILL BREAK” JUST SECONDS BEFORE GLASS DID, IN FACT, BREAK.)

- Yesterday noticed purple flower had fallen off stem - somehow snapped off, again.

- Today noticed part of butterfly bush in back garden was somehow snapped off central body. (Wind wasn’t nearly strong enough for that sort of damage.)

PICKING UP "SNAPPED OFF" IMAGERY (IF YOU CAN SEE A PATTERN, IT'S AN EFFING PATTERN, OKAY?) BUT NOT ENTIRELY SURE OF MESSAGE. MUST PAY CLOSER ATTENTION...

Manchet Bread, Small Beer

I SWEAR TO EFFING GOD THAT IF THAT MAGPIE KEEPS THIS SHIT UP I AM GOING TO GO MEDIEVAL ON ITS ASS AND STICK IT IN A FUCKING PIE AND SEASON THE CARNAGE WITH GODDAMN NUTMEG AND/OR MACE. (ISN’T THAT A DAINTY DISH TO SET BEFORE A KING?)

Two Down, Seven to Go

Today Italics fucked me so hard I couldn't walk straight. Literally. (I'm expecting a bruise after the metal bed frame incident. And another one thanks to the entire walked-into-a-wall thing.) (THE FACT THAT I GOT CALLED "A FAT FUCKING SLUT" DURING SEX AND SLAPPED ON THE ASS DEFINITELY TAKES THE EDGE OFF OF WHAT OTHERWISE COULD HAVE BEEN A VERY TRAUMATIC EVENT.)

Side note to self: Two rooms "sealed" (back and bedroom). Anointed threshold of every door and every windowsill in room with combined body fluid immediately after sex. ("WHO SMEARED SEMEN AND VAGINAL SECRETIONS ALL OVER THE ROOM WHILE WE WERE GONE?") Seven more to go (includes outside room). (Garage for the LULZ?)