Sparking the Muse

The two old men walked carefully over the loose gravel drive towards the barn. They were dressed in their Sunday best, circa 1930, one in grey pinstripes, the other in black. They had their jackets open in the heat, hats pitched askew as they dabbed their foreheads with white cotton handkerchiefs. The taller man took off his jacket, throwing it over his shoulder, the dampness showing through his white shirt as a darkening spread between his red suspenders.  In the background, Billie Holiday could be heard singing "I'll Be Seeing You" from the rolling green back yard of the house, and from inside, the occasional wails of grief overcame the quiet music. They walked quietly, reverently, towards the large white building at the end of the drive, to their left, a well-planted island created a circular area where other guests had carelessly parked.

"Joe was a hell of a guy. I wonder if he kept up on the insurance?" The shorter man questioned off-handedly in the heat.  The taller man just shook his head and shrugged, patting his head again as he pushed his hat further up his brow.
"Not sure.  Probably. He was pretty practical. I doubt he would have left Mary with nothing..." he trailed off and they kept walking.

The barn door loomed before them, waves of heat fuming up off the dark gravel. It was white, the siding fixed vertically upon it, the paint ancient and cracking. There was no lock, only a single handle in the center of the door, near the ground. The two men stared at each other and blinked, their faces questioning as of to say, "Well? Think we can go in?". This time both men shrugged. The tall man leaned down, grabbed the handle and lifted. There came a sound that could only come from an old wooden door that hadn't been used in decades. The springs creaked and moaned as the weight was taken and it slid up, pivoting in the tracks on either side. Dust escaped from the long-sealed building, and both men coughed automatically as they smiled together, then turned their gaze back to the now-cavernous opening.

The light barely penetrated the darkness inside. It was as though the years had worn the shine off the sun, and the dim corners of the barn drank in the glowing yellow light as a man crawling across the Sahara might drink from an oasis. The men waved their hats around to clear the air, and slowly made their way inside. The shorter of the two stopped just inside the opening and stared, open-mouthed, at a shape covered by a dusty white sheet. It was enormous, and from the state of the sheet, it had been there for quite some time. The taller of the two instinctively reached out his left hand and found the ancient light switch, flipping it on with a gnarled knuckle. The single bare bulb above the shape ignited in a brilliant flash of white, then dimmed slightly. The heat from the now-glowing bulb began to burn the dust from its surface, and the rising smoke trailed along the fabric-covered cord suspending it from above. The men hushed and stood reverently in the harsh juxtaposition of light and darkness. The shorter leaned over, touched the dusty sheet and turned his head to the taller man. "He never said he had a car"

"Maybe he didn't want to brag"
"Well, it's probably just an old hunk of junk. He didn't ever seem to be real handy, even with Mary," The men chuckled a bit. They were comfortable with each other, with the memories they spoke of, and it showed. Old friends holding each other up in a time of grief. They shared the hush of men in church, greeting before service. "Think we should?"
"We're here. What's it going to hurt?" The taller man folded his coat over his forearm and leaned down in front of the shape. "Here goes, I guess..."

Like a barker of old, the tall man gracefully lifted the cover, baring the treasure hidden beneath so very slowly. He grinned as a bumper appeared first, then a tall grill followed, both gleaming chrome and looking so very new. The cover became caught on the hidden hood ornament and it took a bit of fumbling to get it untangled. When he did, both men hitched their breath in their chest and held it in. The shorter man spoke first, with admiration, "It's a Muse.  My good God, he's got a Muse."  The tall man tugged the sheet hard and fast, belying his years, and it fell at his feet in a dusty heap. There, in the middle of their dead friend's barn was a car so rare that it was thought to be a myth among collectors. A 1924 Muse.  It was worth more than the property the two men had arrived at today to share his widow's grief.  They ran their fingers over the graceful lines, touching the steel and wood. They brushed their knuckles delicately over the chrome trim, careful to not scrape anything. They drank in the beauty, the elegant forms, and the luxurious textures with their eyes, with their very souls. They caught glances at each other, smiling like schoolboys, and feeling younger than they had in what felt like ages.

They met at the front of the car again, each leaning down to kiss the beautiful chrome goddess that adorned the brilliantly shined grille. They noticed the crank together. Still clipped into place, awaiting use. again they looked once again towards each other. "There's no way this thing... You think?" Said Tall Man. His partner smiled and reached down, his hands seemingly free from the wear of years, invigorated by this gorgeous white creature lying here, unworshipped for who knew how long. Short Man moved deftly, tipping the crank into position and running it through it's range of motion. "Seems okay," he said. Tall Man smiled and nodded, backing away. It was then, and there, that he noticed how much better he felt than earlier today. His knees ached a little less, his back no longer cried at him. 'It must be the excitement,' he thought to himself.

Short Man cranked. Once, twice, and the third time around the Muse fired. It was an unearthly sound inside that barn, a deliciously sonus reverberation against the men's hearts. They leapt into the air as it rumbled ambrosially, begging them into the cabin... the supple leather gliding across their rears as they slid in and closed the doors. Gripping the wheel, Tall Man grinned ear to ear. His heart was dancing in his chest, and he was laughing as a child might - free from the years of living. Short Man bounced up and down on the seat as he began peeling off his too-large jacket and throwing it into the back seat. Tall Man pressed the clutch, shifted into gear, and they whooped and laughed like boys! "Go Go GO!" yelled Short Man, slapping Tall Man's back with enthusiasm.

The attendees began to move from the house and yard into the drive at the sound of a strange engine - melodic and rhythmic rather than a more modern sound. They were greeted by the sight of a huge white car tearing from the barn, it's wide wheels spinning in the gravel drive as it rounded the corner exiting the building. What might have been glitter streamed behind it, mixed in with the dust, and glinting in the bright sun. Two boys, dressed in someone's Sunday best, were in the front seat, their too-large hats flying from their heads as they ran the car through it's gears and down the drive...

And the sound of laughter filled the air.



"O! for a muse of fire, that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention."
     -William Shakespeare

Questions, Questions...

Well now.  Seems I make a little more noise than I intend, so I guess a little Q&A session will (hopefully)  clear up some of the redness and that itchy rash.

I heard a couple questions in the past few days, and I thought I might share them with y'all.  Here goes:

"Dude... what's up with the whole Deux Dames thing on your Facebook Page?"

Aaaaahhhh.... yeah.  Well, see, Facebook doesn't allow more than one person to be listed in a relationship with you even if you list your status as "In an open relationship" (Oddly, that is the wrong description, but it's the closest one that the insane folks over at FBHQ offer).  The two beautiful women I am in a relationship in both deserve to be listed at the top of my page.  Period. It stinks to have to put one OR the other up (remember, I'm all about AND not OR, right?), so I found an interesting way around it.  A FB page for them. It allows me to get their beautiful faces right there on top, and it allows me the opportunity to give  both relationships the respect that they deserve.  Honest.  And even better than that, I had their consent (Really? Yes, really). We discussed various possibilities, but THIS one worked best, and I was more than happy to do it.  Both smiles deserve top ranking, and they get it.  Pretty cool, huh?

And no, it's not bragging or being boastful, but it is fair. I love them both, so why not have them be right there on the top of the page?


"You've badmouthed Monogamy before, and pointed out that it's wrong and backward-thinking. You're an asshole. Do you think that I'm less enlightened for being Monogamous?"

Ummmmmm.... no.  I don't believe I ever intended to imply this to anyone. Being monogamous versus being polyamorous is about lifestyle choices (okay, inside Martin is the belief that it might be deeper than that, and that Poly folks are really wired differently, but that's another discussion).  I don't believe that either one is more valid than the other, although I do think that polyamory is generally NOT accepted as a valid lifestyle, and is therefore frowned upon as being 'wrong'. And like so many things that are near and dear to me, I might have defended my choice a bit strongly in other posts.  Hmm. What to do?  I guess I'll just state flatly that if being monogamous is your thing, cool.  It's not mine, so please don't judge until you talk to me about it and hear what I have to say.  Of course,  you're always free to form your own opinion, but at least give me the chance to point out the joys of the lifestyle before you condemn it, okay?

And here's a funny thing... one of my relationships is with a woman who is not, in fact, polyamorous! We work through issues as they arise, and we talk. A lot.  No, really... a LOT! I'd like to think that there is enough love between us to be able to make it work, and so far, so good.

Thanks for listening, all!
I really am quite happy answering questions, and I invite anyone to ask and poke.

m

Auld Lang Syne

I can think of no better way to bring in 2012 than a toast to all of you, my friends, family, loves, and lovelies. 

So, pick up your glass and repeat after me:

Clear Skies and Calm Seas!

Thanks for being by my side all year. Without you, I doubt I could have made it. 

I love you all.

Happy New Year 2012

Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and never brought to mind ?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
and auld lang syne ?

CHORUS:

For auld lang syne, my dear,
for auld lang syne,
we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

And surely ye’ll be your pint-stowp !
and surely I’ll be mine !
And we’ll tak a cup o’ kindness yet,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae run about the braes,
and pu’d the gowans fine ;
But we’ve wander’d mony a weary fit,
sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS

We twa hae paidl’d i' the burn,
frae morning sun till dine ;
But seas between us braid hae roar’d
sin auld lang syne.

CHORUS

And there’s a hand, my trusty fiere !
and gie's a hand o’ thine !
And we’ll tak a right gude-willy waught,
for auld lang syne.

CHORUS

Wot? Happy Birthday?

Today is a very special day. And since I can... here's the ABC's of Jen!

Jovial and Jesting, a Joker at heart,

Endearingly Energetic, Witty and Smart!

Nicely Naughty at times, And Nerdy to boot,

Neighborly and Nurturing, does that compute?

Interesting, Incredible, and in Indigo, Ideal

Frisky and Flirtatious, Her Funkness is real!

Effervescent and Excellent, a gift from above,

Real, without question, is this woman I love.

Happy Birthday. There is such beauty in you, and I am happy, proud, and honored to be near you.  Cheers to  you, and to the amazing woman you are.  Here's to many more. 

Huzzah!

Huzzah! 

Huzzah!

<clink!>

Merry Christmas

 

 For the first time in my life, I woke up on Christmas morning physically alone. Not alone in spirit, nor truly alone, but physically. No warm, loving body beside me, no sounds of the Holiday rustling around outside the bedroom door, no children bouncing impatiently to open the Christmas Booty.  Just me, my cat, and a laptop screen.  I should not feel alone, as I am more loved than I have ever been as an adult. I have no real reason to have this wandering through my head, or my heart, but I do.  So I'll deal with it as I do so many other emotions. I'll write.

Maestro, cue the orchestra...

     On this particular Christmas Morning, I have a gift I have not ever had before. Silence. I'll take that gift and use it to reflect. And this morning, I will reflect upon my wishes for all of you.

For those of you with family members serving in the military, I offer you hope that you will see them today, or at least speak with them. When you do, please thank them for me? I would love to shake each of their hands and express my appreciation personally, but since I cannot, please... and thank you for doing so.

For those of you experiencing a first Christmas without a loved one who has passed on this year, I offer you my heartfelt condolences, and the knowledge that comes from experience that it is always going to be difficult if you can't let yourself celebrate in their stead. Keep their memories alive, and honor them by sharing their lives with the world.

For those of you having a difficult Christmas for other reasons - childhood memories, depression, heartbreak, health issues, whatever - please know that I am thinking of you. Not that it should bring you great comfort, but being thought of might help ease just a small bit of that pain.  You are in my heart.

And for all of you, each and every one, I offer you my friendship. It is a gift I can always afford, and I am happy to give to you. Truly happy. You are all a blessing in my life, and I am thankful for being allowed the chance to be a part of yours. You tolerate my ramblings, you shake your head at my antics, and you are there for me when I need someone.  I hope to be there for you.

So, this morning I will raise a mug and toss a handful of glitter in the air. I will let the joys of the season warm me, and I hope it warms all of you. Be with family and friends, and love, love , love.

Merry Christmas friends. I love you all.
 

My Father's Doves

Strung about the Christmas Tree
They lie in wait for one short flight
So briefly alighting upon firred boughs
    Daren't blink, lest they be missed
    On their last briefly-seasoned night


Lighted from without you'll see
Internal luminescence dark
No matter, brightly they still glow
    Handle carefully, they are fragile yet
    Before into rest they do embark


Glitter-skinned, no feathers plumed
And years-worn showing through
I see you there, at Christmas time
    Your presence felt through empty space
    Your doves, and I, miss you.






Christmas 2011
In Memoriam 

The Light On Broadway

     Snow fell in a hush as the brightly-colored lights danced off the dropping flakes. The streets were greasy black, frozen in the pre-dawn cold., and barren except for the scant few stragglers still out and about from the previous night's merry-making. The city was alive in it's silence, and a lone figure moved gracefully from one streetlight to the next with an elegance unnoticed by anyone else. He was tall, broad across the shoulders, but with a classic form. He was ancient, and at peace with the night.  He was Angus MacRae and he was a vampire.  He had walked these streets for a very, very long time, and tonight he moved with a purpose.  He had a gift to deliver.

He stood at the door. It was plain and unremarkable for such a beautiful building. Angus loved 71 Broadway. It was built in 1897 and had remained largely unchanged since. Here now at his destination on the 12th floor, he slowed his breathing and smiled slightly, crookedly. He had done this so many times before, and each time he filled with joy. A simple pleasure for a kindness unseen.  Angus closed his eyes and stepped through the locked door.

The apartment was dark, illuminated only by the dim glow of the few colored lights adorning the thin tree standing precariously in the corner. He sniffed deeply, taking the scent of pine into his famished lungs, and smiled again.  Christmas was truly one of his favorite times of year.  One of the saddest, as well, but still, he held onto the memories of the previous gifts he had delivered so many times before on the Eve of the day celebrated by so many in the city.  He shifted, and turned to see her standing there, as they so often do. A tiny child, waifish and sleepy-eyed. The smile warmed on Angus' face, and his eyes beamed.  The child's bald head still had the marks from where the pillow had wrinkled and bunched against the tender skin. Her eyes widened slightly as she began to grasp at the possibilities of the situation. "Dear child..." Angus began, filling the girl with his Command Voice, heard only by her, and calming her entirely. "Come closer, my sweet..."

"Are you, no... of course not... he's not real..."
"Am I Santa Clause? No, dear. I'm not. I'm real, and I have a gift for you"
"What do you have for me? Mom said there would not be presents this year, that the treatment was too expensive..." the little girl absentmindedly touched her head, stroking a scar there...
"Oh, your mother was not entirely wrong, there won't be presents for her. But you, my love, YOU have one coming to you.  Would you like to have it?  I promise it will make your mother happy as well, even if she doesn't yet understand..." Angus allowed his mind to wander back to the first time he saw this little thing, and remembered her struggling to carry her tiny backpack into the hospital. He had seen her around the streets, her illness taking it's toll, and her mother struggling more and more to make ends meet as the disease progressed as resisted treatment after treatment.  He listened in when the doctors told her mother that the prognosis was not positive, and treatment could realistically be suspended at any time in order to improve her quality of life.  Her mother had wept, hard. Night after night Angus heard the tears streaming down her face, over her tender skin.  He chose this young girl this year, simply because he wanted to.  She deserved this gift, and her mother would be able to finally begin healing her broken, work-weary heart.

"Yes, please.  But who are you?" the girl asked, her eyes clearing of the Voice that Angus placed there.

"My name is Angus MacRae. I am a Vampire. I am here because your mother asked for help, pleaded for it, and when I asked her if I was welcome in her home someday, she said I was as long as I could help her.  So here I am. I am going to give you something very special.  You will not understand it for a long time, but I am going to ask you one time my dear, and only one time.  Would you like to never have to go to the hospital again?"

The girl started, and looked puzzled. She had many questions, but the most important one came out first, "You are really a vampire?"

"I am."

"And you want to help me?  Don't vampires want to eat people?"

"I do not need to explain further than this is my choice" Angus replied, firmly, but not in anger. He'd heard this before, and anticipated the next question. "And no, I am not going to make you a vampire like me. I will change you, for certain, but you will not need to feed upon the blood of innocents or any such nonsense."

"Are you English?"

The question actually caught Angus off guard.  He grinned again, laughed a bit, and said "No, my dear. I'm Scottish"

"So what will you do to me?  Kill me?  Kill us all?"

"No. And again, do you want this gift?"

The girl shifted her weight from foot to foot.  She looked down and said "Of course I do..."

Angus was on her in a flash. He drew her soul to the surface, staring into her eyes. He felt her drift away, falling helplessly into the black behind her eyelids. He opened his mouth, and sunk his fangs into her neck, the skin so soft and delicate that he had to be very careful of the wound lest he tear her open completely. He drank deeply, feeling her approach death, feeling her heart struggle to beat against his will.  He allowed the gift to begin, felt the power in himself, felt the light in the girl's soul. He waited for the moment and then released the power from his grasp, felt her shudder and die. And he smiled again.  Woefully, he remembered his first love, dying and helpless at the time.  He felt the warmth of a thousand fires fill his own spirit, felt the joy of giving swell inside him.  He carried her limp body back to her bed, and covered her to the neck.  He placed a small bell near her head, and left, silently, as he had come.

This year, this child would be spared from death.  Her mother would wake to find a whole being, rather than a sick and dying one.  This year, a mother would find faith in her prayers, and would never again weep tears for the death of her child.  And years later, that beautiful child would grow and remember one very special Christmas.  She would never tell anyone of the vampire, and would always carry a love for that dark creature until she parted this lifetime.

And when she did, Angus was there again. Holding her hand.  Allowing her to remember each and every Christmas from their first meeting to their last. He would celebrate her lifetime, one he made possible with that wondrous gift so many years ago. He would embrace her, an ease her passing with a kiss and a single word...


"Mine"



And the vampire would weep again.