Today is Gina's birthday. So as I have done before, and will again, I present to you the ABC's of Gina:
Giddy and Gorgeous, Gleefully sweet
Interosculant and Illustrative, she may Illapse into her seat
Napaean at heart, Nyctanthous and fine
Acatalectic, Artistic, an Aubade divine
Happy Birthday, my sweet.
Enjoy your day.
Saturday, April 28, 2012
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Wagons East
"So there we were. Heavy weather, low on fuel..."
- Scott R.
It was a dark and stormy night when we set off from California. Glendale vanished into a bright spot on the horizon of the night sky in our rear-view, and the open road beckoned. Okay, not really, but it might as well have been. On Tuesday, March 20th, 2012, Two cats, Gina Marie Terzino, and I set off on the road trip of a lifetime. We were driving from Beautiful Downtown Glendale, California to the Eastern shores of our continent. We were moving her back home to her beloved Rhode Island. For those of you who might not know, nor care to look at a map of the United States, Rhode Island is NOT a suburb of New York, nor is it part of Massachusetts. It's the armpit of America, nestled in New England, and it's NOT Sunny California. But it is home.
So we set off about 5:00pm, just to make sure we hit as much California traffic as we could (I suppose it was an unconscious effort to get the complete CA experience). We broke free of the 210, hit the gas, and moved like a guppy towards the great open expanse of the 15, searching for the 40, the lower of the two coast-to-coast interstates. The little blue Saturn Ion, stuffed to the gills with meowing furballs and musical instruments (not that the cats could not be considered musical at this point) sipped her fuel and moved with grace through the western part of Arizona, on into the night and early morning of the 21st.
With Runs-with-Scissors at the wheel, sometime in the late 1:00AM hour, a sudden misfire began to slow our course through the chilly AZ evening. I didn't panic, nor did I even wake the sleeping Gina. I simply stared at the rhythmically flashing 'check engine' light, and hoped it would cease. Soon. Please. Anytime would be great. No? Hm... So I took the first exit I saw, dove onto the connecting road, and swooped gracefully into the gas station. Gina woke up, blinked, and asked where we were, to which I responded " Arizona. And we have a problem." There's a lot to this story, including a VERY cold night trying to sleep while covered with a TOWEL (blankets? Who needs 'em...), an attempted parking lot fix the next morning, not one, but TWO mechanics, Getting lost thanks to Google Nav (and wait... what do you mean there's no damned phone signal?), an overnight stay in WINSLOW, AZ (YES! I know it's in an Eagles song), sneaking cats into the hotel, Gina's wrenched ankle (What DID you trip on, woman?), and a wonderful phone call to the mechanic that ended like this, "The car needs an engine. Okay. So when could you get one? No, next Tuesday or Wednesday won't work. Put it back together, we're coming to pick it up. Can you leave the injector to the bad cylinder disconnected? No? Okay." We picked up the car, I disconnected the injector to cylinder #1, and we hit the road, cats and all. Three Cylinder Sally was moving again, and as long as we kept it above 2500RPM, we were good.
Arizona disappeared behind us, New Mexico was a blur... then onto Texas (Dark AND Flat) and Oklahoma through the night. It was light out when we hit Arkansas, which was long, but smelled better than TX and OK. Other than the (I'm STILL giggling here) written warning for speeding and a brake light, it was all pretty uneventful. Welcome signs passed by, we took pictures, and it was pretty smooth. Three Cylinder Sally chugged along, giving me a couple good scares when trying to start after refueling, but finally shuddering to life. And I gotta say that I love Denny's, but I'm pretty much all set with Grand Slam Burgers at this point in my life. Then came Tennessee. The Longest State EVAR!!! It went on for what felt like days, and on... and on... and on... and just on. It was fairly green, except for the blurbs of the big cities that went by. Yes, I know, we should have stopped in Memphis, and Nashville, but honestly we weren't stopping anywhere except a gas station. It was somewhere in the night that we went through Knoxville, and the leg North finally began. Virginia, West Virginia, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, then finally Rhode Island all appeared in our windshield, and we watched the changes fly by us flanking the highway corridor. The car performed admirably considering the mechanical state of it, and there were no other real issues. We managed to get somewhere between 26 and 30 mpg as well!
Would I drive across this beautiful country again? You bet. But I would have a much different plan of action, one that did not include traveling with cats. As a sidebar, the cats were marvelous. They settled in, decided it wasn't so bad, and Gina was wonderful in her care of them. Bix didn't much care for the tractor trailers, I guess they were just too large to be comfortable around, and Sophie could really care less about anything other than getting back in her crate. Win one for relaxed cats, I suppose. If you've never driven coast to coast, it's worth trying. It's a beautiful land we live in, and I'm not sure we Americans truly appreciate the breathtaking grandeur of it all.
But there is no place like home, close to the hearts we love.
M
Saturday, February 11, 2012
Dream of the Raven's Gate XIII
Three women in white marched in step over beautiful grassy plains and down shaded, tree-lined paths. Each taking turns to drag their fingers over the bars of the ever-present iron fence, it's aging black bars reaching towards the sky. They traveled in near silence, calling to the wind with wry smiles, and humming tunes that could best be described as rhythmic. Each woman stepping lightly, but with a purpose held in thier footfalls. no dust soiled their shoes, no speck adorned their dresses. No indication that they were real at all, other than thier presence in one's vision.
They stepped on.
The tormented creature, wrapped in his black shroud, waited for the calling and the madness again. He felt the shift as the Great Old One opened his eyes and gazed, at last, upon the green fields that were ready to receive Him. The depths of the tomb were irrelevant, and the time between blinks an eternity. This was His time, His place. He would not again be turned back from owning the Dreamlands. Not ever again. The Key was here, ready to be taken, and that mortal creature would give it willingly. In the pits, the hellish green glow began to writhe and glisten. It's tendrils working throughout the lush world just beyond . . . Chaos would rise and the world of men would be next.
The body of a man floated in the abyss, cradled by the luminous green flesh. His black eyes, unseeing in the darkness, stared. His snow-white hair lay streaming in all directions. The Great Silver Key lie within his hollow soul, and The Ancient One was drilling deep into his being to grasp it. A whisper came out of the black, and fell upon his deaf ears as a clear peal of a tiny bell. "Remember" it sang. One word, nearly silent, but repeated... "Remember". The light ignited behind the man's eyes and he felt the struggle begin anew. He saw the Key flash bright, shudder, then cower behind his nearly-shattered psyche. It was almost time to lose, the man understood. It was almost time to give forever to the Chaos...
Three women stepped brightly into the blackened rays of a distant sun. Karasu knelt silently and waited for his Master to begin His ascent. The storms in the real world were roiled with Leviathanic fury and the seas churned with His power. "Husband..." Karasu's horrified eyes snapped open at the sound of the woman's voice.
"Husband," it repeated.
"Father." Another voice, similar, but younger.
"Grandfather" A third. Then all in unison, "Karasu". He could not resist any longer. The punishment would forever mark his very form, but he could not resist. He rose, the cloak spreading like a death shroud around his form. "You are here without the boy. Why? how is this possible?"
"Oh, Husband..." The oldest woman wrapped her arms around Karasu, he melted into her as generations of misery throttled his black heart. He wept. He'd kissed this woman in her casket so long ago. She should not be here, not now, not without the help of the Key's Master...
The middle woman threw her arms around the creature. "Father!" He turned his face to her, stared into her eyes, and saw... something... unexpected. Malice. He saw another reason for the presence. He turned quickly to the woman he called wife. He saw it there as well. Then he cast a glance at the youngest... And was taken to the ground by it. He was bound, and left helpless by these beautiful woman in white. He was unable to rise, unable to shift from this plane to another. He was held captive by the treachery of these women . And he realized too late that his fate had been manipulated so very long ago.
"Margaret... You?"
"Fool of a man. You had to have hope for the boy, didn't you? You couldn't simply do your job as the Great Old One commanded? Of course not. The fatherless boy, grown into a man, then given to the Ancient One as a gift by his Priestess. Did you think you were drawn to us that day by chance? Did you not know that we needed you to see the boy's eyes? You must remember when you saw us all together? When that useless hack gave his sanity to channel you? You do. You remember. And you remembered your great-grandson's eyes. You had to. You needed to know his eyes. Have you seen them now? I have. They look a lot like yours. And he STILL won't give the Ancient One that damned Key. YOU TOLD HIM HOW TO HIDE IT, DIDN'T YOU?" She screamed, fury in her voice. Black ochre pouring through her veins and darkening her alabaster white skin like hellish roots from her collarbone upwards towards her face. "YOU WILL MAKE HIM GIVE IT TO US"
Karasu felt sickened for the first time in ages. His wife, Priestess of the Ancient One. his Daughter, and his Granddaughter, too. The Cult had found them, had given them power. His wife kept the secret and raised his daughter to carry the traditions on, and she had. The Cult had made them masters of men. He realized this all too late to save himself, it seemed. He slid away, shrinking into the womb of his cloak. The bindings kept him there, on the stone threshold, but he shrunk away, searching for the child he loved... those eyes must not ever be his own. His Grandson. . . The one he left screaming at the hands of his Master.
The betrayal wounded the Creature beyond his own comprehension. He was a pawn.
And he was broken.
Continued
They stepped on.
The tormented creature, wrapped in his black shroud, waited for the calling and the madness again. He felt the shift as the Great Old One opened his eyes and gazed, at last, upon the green fields that were ready to receive Him. The depths of the tomb were irrelevant, and the time between blinks an eternity. This was His time, His place. He would not again be turned back from owning the Dreamlands. Not ever again. The Key was here, ready to be taken, and that mortal creature would give it willingly. In the pits, the hellish green glow began to writhe and glisten. It's tendrils working throughout the lush world just beyond . . . Chaos would rise and the world of men would be next.
The body of a man floated in the abyss, cradled by the luminous green flesh. His black eyes, unseeing in the darkness, stared. His snow-white hair lay streaming in all directions. The Great Silver Key lie within his hollow soul, and The Ancient One was drilling deep into his being to grasp it. A whisper came out of the black, and fell upon his deaf ears as a clear peal of a tiny bell. "Remember" it sang. One word, nearly silent, but repeated... "Remember". The light ignited behind the man's eyes and he felt the struggle begin anew. He saw the Key flash bright, shudder, then cower behind his nearly-shattered psyche. It was almost time to lose, the man understood. It was almost time to give forever to the Chaos...
Three women stepped brightly into the blackened rays of a distant sun. Karasu knelt silently and waited for his Master to begin His ascent. The storms in the real world were roiled with Leviathanic fury and the seas churned with His power. "Husband..." Karasu's horrified eyes snapped open at the sound of the woman's voice.
"Husband," it repeated.
"Father." Another voice, similar, but younger.
"Grandfather" A third. Then all in unison, "Karasu". He could not resist any longer. The punishment would forever mark his very form, but he could not resist. He rose, the cloak spreading like a death shroud around his form. "You are here without the boy. Why? how is this possible?"
"Oh, Husband..." The oldest woman wrapped her arms around Karasu, he melted into her as generations of misery throttled his black heart. He wept. He'd kissed this woman in her casket so long ago. She should not be here, not now, not without the help of the Key's Master...
The middle woman threw her arms around the creature. "Father!" He turned his face to her, stared into her eyes, and saw... something... unexpected. Malice. He saw another reason for the presence. He turned quickly to the woman he called wife. He saw it there as well. Then he cast a glance at the youngest... And was taken to the ground by it. He was bound, and left helpless by these beautiful woman in white. He was unable to rise, unable to shift from this plane to another. He was held captive by the treachery of these women . And he realized too late that his fate had been manipulated so very long ago.
"Margaret... You?"
"Fool of a man. You had to have hope for the boy, didn't you? You couldn't simply do your job as the Great Old One commanded? Of course not. The fatherless boy, grown into a man, then given to the Ancient One as a gift by his Priestess. Did you think you were drawn to us that day by chance? Did you not know that we needed you to see the boy's eyes? You must remember when you saw us all together? When that useless hack gave his sanity to channel you? You do. You remember. And you remembered your great-grandson's eyes. You had to. You needed to know his eyes. Have you seen them now? I have. They look a lot like yours. And he STILL won't give the Ancient One that damned Key. YOU TOLD HIM HOW TO HIDE IT, DIDN'T YOU?" She screamed, fury in her voice. Black ochre pouring through her veins and darkening her alabaster white skin like hellish roots from her collarbone upwards towards her face. "YOU WILL MAKE HIM GIVE IT TO US"
Karasu felt sickened for the first time in ages. His wife, Priestess of the Ancient One. his Daughter, and his Granddaughter, too. The Cult had found them, had given them power. His wife kept the secret and raised his daughter to carry the traditions on, and she had. The Cult had made them masters of men. He realized this all too late to save himself, it seemed. He slid away, shrinking into the womb of his cloak. The bindings kept him there, on the stone threshold, but he shrunk away, searching for the child he loved... those eyes must not ever be his own. His Grandson. . . The one he left screaming at the hands of his Master.
The betrayal wounded the Creature beyond his own comprehension. He was a pawn.
And he was broken.
Continued
Monday, February 6, 2012
Blue Dream
Deeper and deeper
I spiral, becoming one with the murky depths
Flesh pressed against bone as the pressure rises
My heartbeat slows with every passing moment
I close my eyes against the rising darkness
Fathoms beneath the rolling waves
Where it is calm
Where it is cold
Where the black wraps me in comfort
The stillness and the silence
Gripping my existence
Calling me down.....
Down...
Down...
To where songbirds are not heard
To where my racing mind becomes untroubled
Serene in the deathlike cloak
Of the home I fall into
Again and again
Deeper
Until
I am
A stone in the sea...
Without resistance I tumble
And twist
Until I come to rest
Without light
Or sound
Or companionship
I am alone
In the deep blue sea
And it is pacific
In it's serenity...
I spiral, becoming one with the murky depths
Flesh pressed against bone as the pressure rises
My heartbeat slows with every passing moment
I close my eyes against the rising darkness
Fathoms beneath the rolling waves
Where it is calm
Where it is cold
Where the black wraps me in comfort
The stillness and the silence
Gripping my existence
Calling me down.....
Down...
Down...
To where songbirds are not heard
To where my racing mind becomes untroubled
Serene in the deathlike cloak
Of the home I fall into
Again and again
Deeper
Until
I am
A stone in the sea...
Without resistance I tumble
And twist
Until I come to rest
Without light
Or sound
Or companionship
I am alone
In the deep blue sea
And it is pacific
In it's serenity...
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
More.
It's who I am trying to be. I was not this before. I might have had it inside of me, but I wasn't it. I can feel all of it, I can feel the world just under my skin, and I WANT to let it free... but the real world encroaches and stifles. It drags its claws over my art, through my dreams. It rends the hope I try to keep close to me useless at times.
The real world sucks the art out of a body, and injects it with morbid fascination. It creates desires for the common, and numbs the spirit. It clamps our wings closed and makes us earthbound, with only a memory of the sky in the fleeting corner of out imagination.
Who do you want to be? It's getting late, as Derek Dick once sang, for scribbling and scratching on the paper. It's time to grab the tail of a star, hold it close to your heart, and fly. It's time to resist the gravity of the everyday. It's time to see the sky under you, time to know the feeling of freedom, and not just the ordinary freedom of escaping from the bland, shriveled existence most of us eek out. It's time to know freedom as the rushing wind tearing past the tender skin on your face, seeing the ground come towards you as you reach terminal velocity. Feeling the sky, itself, pulling at your shirt tails begging you to slow your descent, but throwing a hand behind and loosening its grasp.
I am the Sun, Chasing his Mistress Moon.
I am Whispering Willows caressing Faery Skin.
I am the Servant.
I am the Master.
I am Powerful.
I am Loved, and Lover.
I am Light and Darkness.
I am Wicked.
I Am Artist.
The real world sucks the art out of a body, and injects it with morbid fascination. It creates desires for the common, and numbs the spirit. It clamps our wings closed and makes us earthbound, with only a memory of the sky in the fleeting corner of out imagination.
Who do you want to be? It's getting late, as Derek Dick once sang, for scribbling and scratching on the paper. It's time to grab the tail of a star, hold it close to your heart, and fly. It's time to resist the gravity of the everyday. It's time to see the sky under you, time to know the feeling of freedom, and not just the ordinary freedom of escaping from the bland, shriveled existence most of us eek out. It's time to know freedom as the rushing wind tearing past the tender skin on your face, seeing the ground come towards you as you reach terminal velocity. Feeling the sky, itself, pulling at your shirt tails begging you to slow your descent, but throwing a hand behind and loosening its grasp.
I am the Sun, Chasing his Mistress Moon.
I am Whispering Willows caressing Faery Skin.
I am the Servant.
I am the Master.
I am Powerful.
I am Loved, and Lover.
I am Light and Darkness.
I am Wicked.
I Am Artist.
Sunday, January 15, 2012
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
"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
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
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
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
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