Monday, January 31

Quote of the Day

"It is absurd to divide people into good and bad. People are either charming or tedious." ~Oscar Wilde

Take his advice, don't be tedious.

Sunday, January 23

Zoe and Toby's Adventure

"When I want to read a good book, I write one." Benjamin Disreali

I agree with Disreali and wholeheartedly and admit it's one of the reasons I write. I love exploring new worlds and finding out what happens to the characters that inhabit them.

For your enjoyment, I offer the opening of an epic novel I have been working on for years. It takes place on a world called Talon using multiple POV's from different characters. I have maybe half of the book finished and it truly is epic in length. I really like this section which introduces our main heroes. I would appreciate honest feedback whether you'd like to read more. Happy reading.


Zoe and Toby’s Adventure

Adventure, we were ready for it. So when Toby and I emerged from a cave to find ourselves somewhere other than the hills of Monterey California, we didn’t turn back. We knew we were somewhere else we just couldn’t figure where that somewhere else was.

“Something tells me we’re not in Kansas anymore Toto.” Toby said in astonishment and we burst out laughing.I fished out a bottle of water from my backpack as Toby set down his pack to drink from the canteen at his waist.

“Want to turn back?” I challenged, after all I was the one who wanted to go on a day hike and explore the cave. He shook his head as we sat down to rest and get our bearings

“No way Zoe, I gotta to see where this ends up.”

It appeared to be early spring even though it was mid fall when we left the house this morning. Judging by the sun it was early afternoon but it was morning when we entered the cave. The sky was clear and warm instead of cold coastal fog. The air smelled fresh and clean and the ground was damp from a recent rain. I stashed my sweatshirt and water back in the bag and Toby used the tail of his open flannel shirt to wipe sweat from his widening brow. His red brown hair was receding more than he cared to think about. At least he was still in good shape despite the slight paunch.

We set off down the hill mindful of loose rock and scrub brush. The land flattened out quickly and we passed through a light forest of birchs which opened to a grassy meadow where boulders the size of large pumpkins were laid out in a deliberate arrangement.

The stones were deeply etched with geometric patterns and what looked like runes. One had concentric circle that coiled on itself like a whirlpool. Another had small bumps all over it in a slightly lighter color. Toby pointed out one that looked like sea coral; a mass of squiggly lines. We explored them, touching the rough surfaces, fascinated by the designs as we wandered to the other end of the meadow to a trail head.

After a two mile hike down a small trail, it opened up and we spotted a town - a small village really- off in the distance on the other side of a shallow river. White stucco houses with tile roofs like I’ve seen in Italy, dotted the hilly terrain. The picture of bucolic charm. A fortress of heavy stone sat on a hill overlooking the village with red and yellow triangular flags snapping in the light wind.

“This definately is not Kansas.” he said more seriously as we surveyed the distant village from a hilltop.

Thursday, January 20

Being and Nothingness


What is your earliest memeory of being? Not the memory as a child in a crib, or going off to kindergarten. I mean the moment when you recognized being part of something bigger than yourself. I was five, hurrying home at sunset because I was afraid of the dark of night. I rememebr thinking about good and evil. If the devil was the personifcation of evil I reasonsed, then there had to be a God who was the personifcation of good. Goodness preotected you, kept you safe. Looking at the colors of sunset, it gave me comfort knowing there was something to counter the fear of darkness and the unknown. Even now when I go outside-no longer afraid of the dark- and look up at the sky at all those stars there is a feeling of being part of something beyond my little ego.

Only now I’m not so sure that I’m a needed part of that something bigger. I’ve been questioning my purpose in life as I pass fifty and I’m not finding any answers. Maybe I’m just one of the too many physically broken, non functioning people existing in an overpopulated world. It’s tragic line of thinking but that’s what goes on in inside my head day after day as I try to figure out what I’m doing here besides taking up room.

I’m not alone, look at any support group for people who are chronically depressed, suicidal or have simply given up and you will see a mass of quiet desperation. Is it fair to ask the stronger to support the weaker? Major religions and such tell us we should help those in need but Darwin’s survival of the fittest does not bode well for those of us who can barely manage living from day to day.

The heartache of poverty adds to the whole dismal business of survival. It limits opportunity, it drains you of energy, it’s stressful, it’s humilitaing. It’s galling to ask for financial aid of one sort or another. People say forget your pride and ask for help but everyone wants to be productive, to be capable of supporting themselves, to contribute to society. When you can’t for any number of reasons it seems perfectly reasonable to be judged as worthless.

Maybe that’s the way it should be. If I have nothing of value, if I require the assistance of others to live, then why am I still here? What purpose do I have if I'm not contributing to the world? Survival is questionable.

When you get to an age where you can’t produce children, aren’t fit for manual labor or have anything to contribute to society what good are you anymore? I have been told relentlessly that you must be productive and useful, pull yourself up by your bootstraps, work hard, contribute to society. That Puritan work ethic is what built this country. I believe in earning one’s pay with honest labor but I have come to realize, despite years of effort I have gained little of it. Any financial support I had was largely through the generosity of others, inheritance mostly.

I’m a rusty car sitting in the backyard with weeds growing up around me and the sense of loss is unbearable. I’ve done nothing that counts and that’s right up there with being loved, as important. So the bank of despair accumulates each day as I flail about trying to matter. My friends and family assure me I do, but I look at their lives and see them rich with achievement. Mine looks small and self indulgent. Children, family, relationships, industry, wealth, a diploma on the wall, a trophy on the shelf; these are things we value as worthy.

I got a degree in art but found no vocation in it. I got a black belt in martial arts but don’t teach. I write but it all goes in a drawer unread. I have a mind rich with ideas, but it has no outlet.

So I beg social services to support me because of my inability to make my way in the world. I stare at the walls and wonder what I’m doing here. I hate being a burden to anyone. I am caught between the endless struggle of being worthy or trying to short circuit the survival instinct and undo the weight of nothingness.

Wednesday, January 12

haiku, haiku

Dead my old fine hopes
And dry my dreaming but still. . .
Iris, bloom each spring.
-Shushiki

I really dig haikus. There is no better way to sharpen the mind and get the juices flowing than trying to wrote a poem with only 19 syllables ( 29 if you like the longer type). I collected them , like the one above or wrote them myself when the ability to write anything longer failed me. I've heard every kind from classics to ones about garbage hauling.

A variation of the haiku is the 6 word memoir. Hemingway's being the most famous"Baby shoes for sale, never worn." Try it, it's not as easy as it looks.

My life, not what I intended.

Tuesday, January 11

Drawing a blank is easy.

"You can not wait for inspiration, you must go after it with a club." -Jack London

That sound you hear is me banging my head on the table.

I finished the rough (2nd) draft of my tarot book and came to screeching halt. I'm torn about adding graphics which is more work but probably necessary for the beginner. Of corse I don't want to use the classic Waite-Colman deck, I'd prefer to do my own version of the tarot -which I have been dabbling with off and on for years but that's an ambitious project.

Oh hell. I guess I'll keep it simple until I find out if the text version sells. I plan to self produce the book first, see how it goes before considering going for a publisher.

And pigs will fly out of your butt. Nice vision there, keep it up fat chick.

I hate it when that asshole inner critic chimes in. Excuse while I get some advil for my headache.

Thursday, January 6

Quote for the Day

This sounds very zen to me. 


"Give up on yourself. Begin taking action now, while being neurotic or imperfect, or a procrastinator, or unhealthy, or lazy, or any other label by which you inaccurately describe yourself. Go ahead and be the best imperfect person you can be and get started on those things you want to accomplish before you die,” - the late Japanese psychotherapist Shoma Morita.


I'll get to that when I'm done procrastinating about that.



Sunday, January 2

Don't wait for a divine bitch slapping

"Anything you're good at contributes to your happiness." -Bertrand Russell

Normally I would dismiss such a remark with a cynical "yeah, yeah whatever" given my utter lack of inspiration these days. BUT, this idea appeared to me twice in one week. First during a heated discussion with a friend who insisted my artsy fartsy stuff actually had merit -though I disagree- then I read it in Brezsny's real astrology . Crap.

When you hear something pithy once, well it's nice, twice is a head's up and three times is a divine smack down- I'm not waiting for that. I jumped out of the way of that train when I was inspired to "do something creative every day for a month" like blogger/writer/actor Will Wheton  (curse you, overachieving bearded boy).

Theodore Roosevelt- who had his dark moods, once said "Black care rarely sits behind a rider whose pace is fast enough."  A lot of this is about out racing my own dark demon or die of boredom.


Saturday, January 1

Quote for the Day

“You must write every single day of your life. You must lurk in libraries to sniff books like perfumes and wear books like hats upon your crazy heads. May you be in love every day for the next 20,000 days and out of that love, remake a world.” -Ray Bradbury

1-1-2011

One is the number of all beginnings. It is the number of the Magician in tarot, he has all the tools before him to create. Ki is like the number one because just as something can not be made from nothing, one can never be reduced to zero.

One is the loneliest number you'll ever know.

Eleven like the number one can not be reduced in numerology( it's considered a master number). The most intuitive of all numbers, it represents the start of a new cycle.

May this year be the start of a new phase in one's life.