Waiter, There's A Monster In My Soup

Heading for the Bayou tonight for music and some gumbo. I don't expect anything unexpected to surface in my soup bowl, but strange things do happen. Sometimes I' m asked why I write about vampires, with a zombie or a shape-shifter thrown in for good measure.

First, it's fun. I've enjoyed the dark side of fantasy since I was a child. Snow White's evil queen and her magic mirror fascinated me. Why was she so cruel? The monsters I write about do not walk this earth. Their realm is the imagination...places where a cold sweat might begin. What's under the bed or in that closet when the lights go out? Are those branches scratching against the window pane? What makes you hurry down the street at night...did you really hear a voice or is it the wind whining in the leaves? Second, that adrenalin rush always turns me on. It seems natural to explore the scary side of fantasy. Yeah, I like big roller coasters, too.

There are other monsters I find much more horrific than my blood-thirsty crew. These are the monsters of our realm. Child molesting pedophiles, rapists, sadistic brutes, abusive parents and psychic vampires are more terrifying than the fictional side show. They wreak havoc every day. I've encountered a few choice specimens, as I'm sure you have. They are commonplace in our society. If they've ever crossed your path, I don't think you would describe the event as commonplace, though.

My stories may have elements of real world monsters in them. Some are evil, some are...different. You might find you feel a twinge of sympathy for my fantastic monster. Maybe he didn't choose this life. Maybe she was betrayed. Maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time. After all, this is make believe. I have no sympathy for real monsters. You may have heard where 'sympathy' is in the dictionary...between 'shit' and 'syphilis'. That sums up my feelings about sympathy for those miscreants. The devastation they cause is beyond words.

Give me a blood-sucking Nosferatu or a howling werewolf any day. They are what they are. Maybe they've have moved from Transylvania or the moors of England, but their song remains the same. They will give you a good scare. Sometimes, they'll give you a good laugh. After all, they're only non-human, not inhumane.

Scramble Through The Brambles

A mass of branches and burgundy leaves filter the view from my kitchen window. The Japanese maple tree planted eighteen years ago is reaching for heaven. It reminds me of the thorny brambles that covered Sleeping Beauty's castle when she fell into slumber under that magic spell...you know, the one with the spindle. It doesn't take a spell nor a spindle to allow the brambles to grow tall and wild. No one can find a way past the spiky barrier and, after a while, they stop trying and leave Ms. Beauty to dream about Prince Charming. Only, the prince has his own stuff to deal with. As the years go by, the brambles grow more tangled, the thorns sharper. Everyone and everything in the castle is frozen in time, insulated from outside influence.

You may think this is a safe cocoon, but that's not always the case. Things and people become stagnant without something to stir them up once in a while. A little down time is how we recharge. There is a too-much-of-a-good-thing syndrome and Ms. Beauty may have succumbed to it.

Rumor has it, she was fed up with all the princes in the neighboring kingdoms prancing in on their chargers, trying to impress her. She was tired of the permanent smile on her face. Those fru-fru ball gowns made her skin itch. Her parents kept pushing her to find a nice prince and settle down. She was bored out of her gourd. While hiding in the garden behind a sprawling rosebush, she realized she was not alone. There was this evil fairy godmother type sitting on a tree stump.

"Hey, sugar...what brings you to my neck of the garden? Let me guess...avoiding another prince encounter?"

"They're okay, for princes, but I'd like to just close my eyes and have them all disappear. They are driving me nuts!"

"Heh! I think I can help you out there...meet me in the north tower at midnight."

So, you see, Ms. Beauty may have been compliant with this plot. She was feeling desperate, understandably so. It's the old story...be careful what you wish for. Wishing for a respite from clamoring admirers is natural. Just don't share it casually with evil fairy godmother types. You can recognize them by the long black dress, the sneering smile and the tattered wings...it's a dead giveaway. That's my cautionary tale for the day.

Fortunately, the tree branches outside my window just block the view. It's business as usual inside my castle. I confess, I have been somewhat somnambular for a while, but, lately I'm feeling quite perky. I don't need any hedge clipping to find what I'm looking for. Well, maybe Edward Scissorhands could stop by once in a while. I like topiary...ahh, Johnny Depp. Oh yeah, where was I? I hope Ms. Beauty and Prince Charming did live happily ever after. I'm thinking they have as good a chance as any. Of course, no one can make you happy if you aren't already there. That ever after is a crap shoot. Who knows?

Sometimes, I have to deal with very unpleasant people. For the most part, people are fun to be with, but I interact with quite a few during any given day. By the time I get back to the castle, I enjoy letting my hair down, but that's another story. I relax with assemblage, reading, writing, music...all that stuff. What I treasure is quiet time. Doing nothing, letting my mind go where it will, is a delight. I don't mind having a bramble or two in the garden. There's a wide open path to my front door. All you have to do is knock.

picture~Edward Scissorhands...ahh, Johnny ;)

Dust In The Wind Or I'm In One of Those Moods Again

Some days you wake up with someone on your mind. I did today. It took me by surprise because I hadn't traveled that memory lane for a while. Then it came to me. Today is Harry's birthday. He's been gone a long time. The only family he had left, his two maiden aunts, laid him to rest up in Nova Scotia, near his mom. So long ago, but sometimes a moment flashes into your mind and it's as though it was yesterday. I shook it off and headed for the coffee pot. Sundays usually give me some time to relax in the morning, read the paper, go online and not think about too much. A little while later I was perusing Facebook and there was a link to 'Misty Roses' by Tim Hardin. That song was playing when I met Harry, New Year's Eve, 1969. We got into a discussion about Tim Hardin and his music.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sW8HToAEV-g

Then, there is this beautiful poem, 'Eastern Tones' by Will Crawford, a moving tribute to Tim Hardin and his music.

http://www.facebook.com/notes.php?id=1478974110

Okay, I guess I can't ignore Harry today, though Lord knows I tried. He was like that. He said it was his Norwegian tenacity. I had other names for it. After we went our separate ways, we would bump into one another on occasion. I guess we still do, so why fight it? That's my point.

A dear friend of mine told me I've been spending too much time in the past lately. In a way, that is true. I've been letting go of things that have become too heavy to carry, finally realizing I've been rolling so many boulders up that hill. It wears you down. I can just walk away. Now, old habits are hard to break, but it feels so good to set myself free, one boulder at a time.

The past and the present are woven together. There is no way to completely separate them. I wouldn't want to do that. There are days when memories just float by and there are days when they kind of hit you upside your head. Some theories say time does not proceed in a straight line, that it is more fluid. It ebbs and flows. I vote for fluid. Sometimes it's like riding whitewater rapids. You hold on for dear life, exhilarated, while everything on the shoreline appears as a long blur. Other times, that river slows almost to a standstill and everything around you is crystal clear.

The last stage of my hair project brought me back to Salon Plus. The building has stucco walls, arched windows and has been there for about thirty years. You get the distinct feeling of being in another time and place when you walk through that portal. As I waited, I chatted with Maria. "It's hard to believe I've been with Tina twenty-seven years." Twenty-seven years? Have I been going here for hair magic for twenty-seven years? Yep. The oldies music played on in the background. I sat back, shook my head and smiled. Cool. Life, live it, love it.

This brings me to 'Dust In The Wind' by Kansas and this lovely video, filmed in 1977. I guess we are, so enjoy the ride.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1qxSwJC3Ly0

random photo, but they are so cute!

thanks to marlene & hank for the links ;)

special thanks to will crawford

and, happy birthday, harry...hope you're playing tim hardin wherever you may be...

Moon Crossing the River Styx

Yesterday was one of those glorious spring days you treasure. The sky was truly azure, not a cloud in sight. I guess it was about 75 with just a mild breeze blowing. It was Easter Sunday and also, my late Dad's birthday. The little guys were in the yard blowing bubbles and kicking a soccor ball around. My brother Mark and I were talking in the kitchen. "Vic, I have a bottle of scotch I got from Dad's basement years ago. I only take it out on his birthday and have one drink. How about joining in a toast to Dad?" Out came a bottle of Chivas, about three quarters full. Mark put ice in two glasses and poured. We wished Reuben a happy birthday. Mark put the scotch away, in the back of the cabinet, until next year. Other people wandered in and the conversation turned to other things. My Dad loved to cook and he loved family gatherings, so we always feel he's hanging out with us on these occasions. Would he miss his own birthday?

My mom sat in the living room with her eyes closed. Pete was napping in a recliner. John greeted me with "Welcome to the half-time room". Mom opened her eyes, looked at me and smiled. She got up and moved closer to me. "I'm glad to see you." She has good days and lost days. Yesterday was kind of a mix. Her Alzheimer's is slowly progressing and at this point, she still realizes that fact. We spoke of friends. We spoke of Dad. We spoke of her great-grandchildren. I used to mourn the loss of the parts of her that are gone. Sometimes, I still do, but I realized I want to celebrate that part of her that still is present. It frightens me to think of what she is going through. I used to stop by to visit her in the house I grew up in. There was always a cup of tea, some Entenmann's cake and conversation. "So, Victoria, tell me what's new," followed by the latest church choir gossip or her conversation with one of her sisters. Toward the end of her stay in that house she would look at me and say "I know I'm losing it, Vickie, but I don't know what to do." What do you do? She was frightened all the time, but she refused to have anyone stay with her. It must have been like being in one of those fun house mirror mazes. Nothing was what it appeared to be for her. She was lost in her own home.

My horoscope today advised me the moon was crossing the River Styx, into the realm of Pluto, the god of the underworld. I thought of my mom. According to mythology, there are five rivers which separate the living from the netherworld, Styx, the river of hate, which circles the underworld nine times, Acheron the river of woe, Cocytus, the river of lamentation, Pyriphlegethon, the river of fire and Lethe, the one my mom is crossing, the river of forgetfulness. It is a slow and difficult ride for the traveler and for those left behind. Like any journey, there are many adventures along the way. You never know what the fates have in store for you.

Life unfolded, the way it does. Mom lives in an assisted living facility close by. She's adapted and likes it. She calls it home, so home it is. I'm appreciating each day, instead of pining for something that is now a memory. No guarantee as to how long I get to keep those, anyway. So, here's to the here and now. It's the only thing that is real.

picture~natalie & caitlin, selder, ny easter 2010

April Fools for Love

Traditionally April 1st is a day for pranks and a bit of mischief. This one brings to mind another type of fool. Have you ever been a fool for love? Some might say it's just the nature of the condition. In a way, I agree. Love has a way of turning you around. Your senses are altered. Your thinking is addled. Your demeanor may change from sad to happy or it may go from 'normal' to distressed. You become preoccupied. Maybe your attention span shortens. Daydreams become frequent. Sleep patterns may become very haphazard.

Ah, yes, I've been a fool for love. I have no regrets about it. It's an experience not to be missed. If you've never been there, maybe you are afraid to take the plunge, for plunge it is. It is a leap of faith. You needn't close your eyes...many do, but it's not recommended. Even with eyes open, things are not always what they seem when the love filter is on. Not to worry, they come into focus soon enough.

My coworker, Mario, returned from a vacation in Costa Rica, smitten by a beautiful woman he met just before he was to leave for home. When he first saw her, he didn't have the nerve to speak to her. Later, that's all he spoke about, driving his friends crazy. When they encountered the lovely senorita at a club two nights later, his friends made sure they made contact. That, as they say, was it.

Mario traveled to Costa Rica for his friends' wedding. Traditionally, the day before the wedding, the groom hires a mariachi band to sing to his fiance. He leads a procession of mariachis, family, friends and neighbors down the road to her home. There she waits behind closed doors, with the women of her family until he knocks on the door. If she accepts him, she opens the door, and he bestows gifts of flowers and jewelry. If not, the door stays closed. Bummer.

This day the door opened and the fiesta began. The entire neighborhood joined in the celebration of love. Mario was quite impressed.

Did all this affect his feelings before he met his lady? Quien sabe? Some say timing is everything. Well, it is part of the picture, but the rest? There is an element that cannot be defined by logic. Some call it fate. Some call it Cupid. Whether it's the fickle finger or Cupid's dart, when it gets you, you are changed forever. Mario has her phone number. They've talked a couple of times, but he complains it is not the same as looking into her eyes or reading the body language. I can dig it. I feel ya', man. Long distance romance can be a challenge, but all is fair in love. Play the cards you're dealt in the game of life. You never know when you'll win the jackpot.