An Alright Day After All

Current listening: Crickets

Ari meowing as he stalks the yard

'Funny Cat' (the raccoon) chewing on something

Today was indeed an alright day. It started out a bit rough though. I went ahead and asked for an appointment with a new  therapist in town after I woke up and had that old, familiar empty feeling right in the middle of my chest. I call it "The Void" because that is exactly what it can feel like - a vast, Lovecraftian crack in the center of myself, stretching into eternity and frightening in its very emptiness.  A little while later, another familiar monthly  :::ahem::: friend showed up and explained why some things seemed amped up lately by about a factor of 10. Yay. 

Today was also the deadline to enter the show at the Tomato Art Fest and I let it go. I did enter last year, after a four year absence, but that was more because I had promised the former owner. It's no fault of the show or the Fest, but I am still so burned out on it. Maybe I'll be ready to enter again somewhere down the road. 

Granted, I don't have to fight and jump through hoops anymore just to get my work there. Thank the gods! No more crazy narcissistic reasoning ("You can't make a living with art...of course they want you back. They want to make money") or fear that I might miss a delivery deadline - and waste an entire hour long trip to town - because someone else insisted their fun was more important. I certainly don't miss the dismissive "Oh. You didn't sell anything" on bad days and the hours long rages, with attendant threats to call the police for some stupid, made up thing - when I did sell. The better my sales, the worse the rages. The feeling of eternally being caught up in an emotional and mental tornado and not being able to think clearly was maddening. 

Oddly, late this afternoon, as I waved at the deadline as it passed me by, I started working on a few additions of the sporadic series I started years ago called An Ode to Wazowski. I have two about half finished at the moment, an illusionist and a clown. We'll see what else comes of it. The ones I did last year - a Gandalf type wizard, a ceremonial magician and a hip witch - were the first ones to ever not sell. I'm pretty sure my burnt out energy were all over them and no one wanted that. 

I've been thinking of a different way of promoting my work, which tells me that I must be finally getting that former bullshit out of my system. I signed up for MailChimp a couple of years ago, but I never did anything with it. I had thought of doing something about less well known folklore, starlore, mythology and who knows what else. What I want now is do that in a newsletter promoting my art - make it more engaging than just saying, "Hey. There's this. Please buy it." 

Okay, I'm tired - enough rambling. Goodnight y'all.  

 

Amergin and the Dead South

Current Listening: Achilles, The Dead South

Up next: Waiting For the Night, Ghost

Shin-En, Ningen Isu

I didn't realize it had been over a week since I last posted here. Damn. I didn't realize I was caught in that downward spiral for that long. I don't know if it's the quarantine or just 2020, but these spirals are getting more frequent. So much so, I've put in a few inquiries to some local therapists. I do not want to go down the depression road again. It was awful the first time. Knowing it could be sneaking up on me again is much worse.

Okay, so a change of topic. I love this particular song by the Dead South. It reminds me of The Song of Amergin. He says "I am sea breeze/I am the ocean wave/I am the surf's thunder/I am the stag of the seven tines/I am the cliff hawk/ I am the sunlit dewdrop..."

The Dead South's version is a more modern: "I am a man/I am the wind/I am all your deepest sins/I am the sun, I am the moon/I am all your sweetest tunes..."

The link above says that the Song has "been described as an invocation or a mystical poem" and it is. But is that all it is? 

It is more of a becoming. There are many paths with traditions of claiming for yourself certain things, whether they be animals, elements or gods. To say "I Am..." is to take on the power of the thing. 

Am I saying the Dead South are shamans, magicians or some such? No, I'm not. But, they don't have to be. The writers claimed and accepted the best and worse of themselves in the song and that had to be very cathartic on some level. 

Playing with a story

I know it sounds cliché, but surely it was five o'clock somewhere. The office had been quiet all day and that was bad. Bad for business - no business, no paying the rent and no office. On the other hand, there wasn't anyone around to care if I took a bit of a nip of Jack. Or three.

Who knows though, someone or something could still walk through that door. I wasn't picky. I'll take a case, whether human or monster. Hell, most of the time, I preferred the monsters. 

Granted, it took a long while to get the respect, well, maybe not respect, per se, of the monsters, but I got a reputation. I got the job done and I treated my clients with respect. Apparently, that was a novel concept coming from a human. Well, you know how most monsters come out in the stories. 

One reason that it took so long to get that reputation is that I didn't read as they expected me to, so I confused them. You know how you can look at someone and instinctively know whether they're on the level? Yeah, they couldn't quite figure me out. I guess that's a rare thing for a human. 

Ah, screw it, I thought as I got my jacket and fedora (can you be a legit P.I. without a fedora?) I'm calling it a day. I hoped there's be more action at the corner bar. 

Bleh

I really need to stop looking at posts on the local town groups on Facebook. There's nothing but stupid conspiracy theories (i.e., masks can't keep the Coronavirus out, but they mysteriously hold on to CO2 like no tomorrow. Also, those same masks are grooming everyone for dreadful things like burkas, microchips or Bill Gates) or hysteria over Satanists wanting to bring the USA into a New World Order.

I don't like my response to these things. I go in and say, "Seriously?" and it's on. No one ever really reads the comments for any kind of discourse anyway. They only want to denigrate everyone who doesn't agree. Bleh. That's it. I need to leave for my own damn sanity.

No, it wasn't my first day on the internet, but those local groups make me feel like that anyway.