Up and Down

Dragging one more step

   

A false history may settle comfortably in the medulla and cerebellum,

Erasing the actual history that's hell bent on marauding, pillaging and fleecing the rest of the brain?

Emerson said, "...Courage is universally admired, meanness despised..."

Yet what if there is only a finite amount of courage allotted to each of us?

What if I used my courage up and all that's left is the sticky resin at the bottom of the honey pot?

What if I am called on to raise my shield and blade and the whole thing crumbles before me. 

Do I siphon my tears into the sticky pot and loosen my last remnants of courage? If I purge long enough I will fill that pot; however, diluted my courage may be, it's still mine and I will not harrow my thoughts in directions that do not strengthen the soup of my courage.

Blue Beds

Resurrection Reunion 2, 1945, Sir Stanley Spencer 
The Mag 192






I have to hid away from the revelers
They steal too much oxygen.

Blue beds
empty tanks

I've been gone a long long time.
Baby kitty love eyes
while I nebulize.

lazy lazy dog daze
sad stares
heartbroken gaze.

A friend here and a friend there
love and compassion fills my air.

Hospice days 90 and counting.

Time

Lately time has really been at the forefront of my consciousness. I am living on borrowed time. I am trying to finish a novel in 30 days and I can't even be sure that I can actually work on it everyday. In the past seven days I have spent four and a half in bed. I am in end stage respiratory failure due to the progression of muscular dystrophy. I have made the decision to go into hospice. This means no ventilator for me and no trach. I feel like I have a list of things to do but I have no real time frame for completing them. I procrastinate like I will be here for years and perhaps I will be. However, there is a real chance that anything can happen at anytime.

I don't know who reads this blog. It is not even my main blog but I almost feel like I can open up here easier than on my main blog. I am trying to push through and steal little pieces of energy. I am not talking on the phone as much because it steals too much energy. I don't go out as much. I hate to shop. I must be the only woman in America that hates to shop because it steals too much energy. Writing and painting they do not steal too much energy.

three years later

This boy "Tobi Teeth" became mine. He was my mother's dog until she passed away, 18 days after I worked tirelessly on Framescape for thirty days straight. I felt an enormous sense of guilt because I spent all that time writing this story not having any real idea where it would take me instead of spending her last month on this earth with her. Now three years later I am in hospice with end stage respiratory failure and advanced muscular dystrophy trying to finish this story. I finally figured out what it is about and who my characters are. well at least of few of them.

For the time being my plan is the try to reach my goal and write this book. I haven't touched it in three years. My official start date is Friday, November 1st. I will be posting my word count daily in case anyone out there is interested. Mainly it is for myself. It helped keep me going last time, here's hoping it will do it again.

The Slip

Joseph Lorusso
Magpie Tales 155

He is walking in now. Just keep your face close to mine. There it worked, he spotted me, umm well us. And he's gone. Thank you. By the way what is your name? I really appreciate this. I just couldn't deal with him. I knew his ego wouldn't tolerate my being with another man. Well I have to go. Thanks again.

Rejected

Central Library, Manchester, U.K., by Robin Gosnall - Magpie Tales

He looked down at the crowd gathered below, it seemed a shame to take one of them out. So he sat Indian-style at the edge and patiently waited for the coast to clear. "Umm, maybe I shouldn't wait, maybe one of them deserves to go with me?" He voiced from above. Yet no one heard him. Not one person looked up. Not one person noticed his knee caps dangling from the edge.

The fall would be considerable. How high was it? 50 feet, 100? He didn't know. His spatial intelligence had always failed him and this time he worried it would fail him again. What if it wasn't high enough? Leaving the job undone? That would be a shame. That might be the only thing to change his mind. The pain would be considerable. It didn't concern him.

He closed his eyes and the breeze hit his face. Where was the sun? Why couldn't he feel the sun on his face?  Day in and day out, he sat alone in his apartment watching TV and thinking and reading and scratching himself raw. Eating the same old Top Ramen . Piling his clothes in a black garbage sack and donating them as soon as they were too disgusting to wear, even for him. Turning around and going to the same donation store and finding new clothes, cleaner clothes to wear. He stank. Nothing could remove the odor. He stood up, looked up and jumped.

He was no longer alone, with him at the door of Hell was the pedophile he nailed on impact. Hell was pleased. Hell took the pedophile with open arms and thanked him kindly for his donation but then  slammed the door in this face. Hell had no use for him. No use at all.

Rejected again! He shrugged and moved on... 

Framescape should Continue

Last month my mother died and this put a big screeching halt on my writing. I am not sure that I can get back to it any time soon. I have the desire but the block it like a two hundred ton slab of granite. I can't seem to penetrate it. Even my poetry on my Living in the Middle blog is filled with the loss I feel right now. I have written over fifty thousand words of the first draft of this story. That happened in November. The story is half way there but the other half left me completely. I was hoping to finish the first draft before March. March is NaNo's editing month. I doubt I will be ready for that.

Framescape ~4~

Google Images

A lovely creature stepped through the wavy gelatinous frame. She came right up to me. “Cassie, my name is Gaia.” She announced as she took my hand in hers. Here walk with me a while, it was something I couldn’t do when I lived on earth.

We stepped back through the frame and the flipping seemed to stop while she held my hand. I was at peace with her. She radiated a peaceful energy and I was comforted in her presence.  We were instantly walking on a beach. The tide was gentle. I could feel and smell all the lovely sensations of the ocean. The salt water spray was light and refreshing. The sand was warm. It massaged my feet the sensation was mind altering, orgasmic. I could feel it from the tip of my head to the last nerve in my toes. The day was warm and the sun kissed me without its harsh rays. It was very much like earth except it was without imperfection and there was no one else around. It was just us, Gaia and me.

“This is beautiful. I have never seen water this clear or this color before.” It was crystalized and metallic in its blue, teal and green. Everything sparkled to the point of blinding but here there was no blinding here or need to shade my eyes.

She smiled at me and kissed me on the cheek. Her silence and gestures acknowledged my gratitude for the loveliness of this place. Our steps left no trace behind us yet we could feel so much of the sand underneath us. And the gulls they sang, in such a way that their voices were accompanied by the harmony of other sea creatures and together it was a whimsical chorus.

I looked at her with so many questions. “When you said that you didn’t walk on earth, why was that?”

Squeezing my hand gently, a small gust of wind blew her alluring red wavy mane back off her face and her striking green eyes looked into mine. “I was born with a crippling disease. “

“Which disease?” asking only to gain a greater insight as to how her malady affected her.

“There wasn’t a name for it, when I lived.”

My eyes pleading, wanting to understand more her situation, she continued, “I was not able to walk, use my arms or talk but my thoughts were all my own.”

Without thinking I said, “that must have been frustrating for you, I am so sorry.”

Quizzically she cocked her head, “I don’t think I understand your apology.”

“I only meant, didn’t you desire to be like everyone else? Do what others could easily do?”

“I never felt that.”

“Ever?”

“No never.”

“How is that possible? I would be climbing the walls.”

“Have you always walked, used your arms and talked?”

“Why yes.”

“I never did. Have you ever jumped in a freezing pond naked?”

“Oh, certainly not!”

“Have you ever felt that desire?”

“No I can’t say that I have.”

“Lots of people do it.”

“Well they are nuts.”

“Are they?”

“I think so.”

“Hmm. Perhaps they are just different. Their desires are different.”

“But that is nothing compared to the difficulties of a disabled body.”

“I did not need it to walk, or talk on earth.  My abilities were different.” She smiled to reassure me and said,  “I was very content.“

We walked in silence for what seemed like a very long time. Her hand was still in mine. We were still leaving no footsteps behind us. The rhythm of the ocean lapping back and forth was spellbinding. I was engrossed in the splendor of my surroundings until I thought of him, until he invaded my serenity.

“Gaia, why am I here with you? I feel as though I need to be finding my way back to another place but my desire…”

“Is to be here with me?” she said.

“Yes. I can’t explain it but before I saw you I was living in two planes simultaneously.”

“Oh my dearest, there are many, many planes of existence in our subconscious.”

“But I am conscious of my surroundings.”

“Are you? Where do you think you are?”

“Why I am here with you.”

“Why yes dearest, you are.”

To be continued…



Framescape ~3~

Image from Google Images
Deep Space

The space around me is a tunnel of dark matter. I feel like I am floating in a gel like substance, my spirit distal in relation to my broken body. Like a rubber ball attached to a paddle, I was snapping back and forth between my sleeping form and my transcendental self. I could hear unrecognizable voices. They seemed to be trying to figure out who I was.  In the next moment someone was playing a harp and singing for the revelers. I heard someone say my name, “Cassie Evans, the police located her driver’s license. Her name is Cassie Evans.” The voices started to fade again back to the music. I just couldn’t seem to stay in one place long enough.

I was feeling a rush of emotion.  Panic not for my dying body but for the many dying bodies, I had glimpsed in his mind’s eye. I was unilaterally drawn to and from this man, this creature, this conundrum of colorful darkness. He was lovely but deadly and I knew that I was the only one to know this.

Snapping back again, “Evans,” I thought, “I am not an Evans. I have never been an Evans. My last name is Clary. What am I doing here?” I yelled! No one heard me, no one is responding to me. I have to get out of here. I just did not know how to go about it. Was it a matter of performing a gedankenexperiment; would I have to try to leave this place experimentally from my own mind? I just did not know. I wanted to pursue this evil plenipotent man and his retinue with every fiber of my being.

I felt myself struggling, willing myself to leave this teeter totter state of consciousness. I could see the vacuous tunnel, it was dark except fibers of light seemed to be fading further and further away. I noticed another entrance, another frame from it nothing hung, not a door but just a curtain of wavy light filled with the liquid gel matter. Fibers of carmine, magenta, vermilin and amethyst were swirling just the other side of the frame. I needed to get back to the party and the otherworldly revelers. I felt certain of that but I just couldn’t seem to manage it. I was drawn to the swirling fibers the colors so brilliant they had me mesmerized.

I turn back to face myself and I realize I was looking down at my own battered body. I wasn’t going anywhere that was for sure. Tubes and monitors were humming and beeping all around me. People were rushing in and through me; all the while a tintinnabulation of mechanical noises elevated a sense of urgency in the people working on me.

I was flipping back and forth when…

To be continued

Framescape ~2~

Framescape Part Two
Image from Google Images

Someone was yelling to me off in the distance, “Stay with me come on stay with me!” The voice was becoming clearer and it got louder and felt closer to me. I felt that rush of pain again. The hall with the wooden door was fading in and out of existence like a strobe light. I could see myself drifting toward the voice and the pain but I was frantic not to go in that direction. I could feel throbbing, my head wanted to explode, my hallway was fading fast.  I turned away from the sound. I felt that if I ran back away from it I would hear the revelry again. I was right I could hear it up ahead. I kept running and I was right back at that magnificent door.  Only this time it was opened and I entered.

The room was glowing by the candlelight of Austrian crystal chandeliers, tables with ice sculptures, flowers and food were plentiful and lined one whole side of the room. There were barmen and fountains flowing.  Waiters were whirling around men dressed in tuxedos and woman in silky flowing gowns. The whole scene was reminiscent of my idea of a heavenly ball in the thirties or forties.  There was dancing, cigar smoking and drinking. The conversations and laughter seemed to take over the atmosphere and my man seemed the center of all the attention.

I looked down at myself, feeling a momentary sense of embarrassment. Last I remembered, I was dressed in jeans, boots, long sleeve t-shirt and sweater vest and was bloody. When I looked down at myself I was in a gorgeous gown. It was beaded in little pins of light. It seemed ethereal, made from a transparent fiber that seemed to be emitting light from inside reflecting outward. It was beautiful and I knew immediately it was otherworldly.

There in the center of the room off from the dance floor was the man. His face clean shaven except a small toothbrush mustache, his hair black cut tight and combed back with some type of pomade. His tuxedo was spotless, free from all lint and with perfect lines. He was framed like a fine piece of art.  As he stood and spoke, a beautiful woman approached and he excused himself and offered her a dance.

They were elegant and took full command of the floor. The orchestra played a fine Vienna waltz. I was mesmerized as was almost everyone in the room. This man could dance, his partner was just a mere decoration on his arm.

I was certain that I recognized him but I couldn’t place it. Had we met somewhere? He looked so familiar but his eyes, they were piercing and haunting. I realized that the nervousness I felt when our spirits were connected could not have been his. He was like a regent in full command. I was certain that we were not friends but I was also sure that I knew him. I just did not know how or where I knew him from. My memory was skipping and I felt lightheaded.

In a flash, I felt the pain return but as soon as it returned it subsided. I could hear beeps and it was black. The music was somewhere in the distance.

To be continued…..

Framescape ~1~

Photo compliments of Willow
For Magpie Tales
FrameScape Part One

I wasn’t sure what happened to me. The last thing I remember, I was driving home from Branson. The grey dusk turned a threatening thick charcoal right before my eyes. In the distance there were wisps of smoke surrounded by endless miles of Shagbark Hickory, Black Walnut, Sugar Maple and just about a half dozen or more varieties of cedar. My steep mountain view was shrouded in dense moist air, the pressure dropped and my ears popped.

The sky can change in thirty seconds flat in Missouri. Sheets of rain blanketed the area north of me. A clap and flash jolted me, forcing me to grip even tighter at ten and two. My eyes opened wide, my book played on without my attention. I was three chapters in on the latest Nevada Barr when I last attended. I push the player off needing full concentration, when the white streak hit the pavement right in front of me.

I swerved and that was the last thing I remember driving that mountain pass.

My grip was not tight. I looked down at my fingers, my car was gone and the sky opened up right in front of me. My skin became smooth and creamy. I looked at my reflection in a crystal clear pond. My figure was upright and slender, as it had once been. My hair flowed down my back and my eyes were bright and clear. I turned away from the pond and found myself looking at a large wooden frame. It called to me as any inviting opening would.

I stepped through it. On the other side I was in a torch lite hallway of stone walls, moist, rough and cold. A dank smell enveloped me and I could hear voices, laughter, music and revelry in the near vicinity. Slowly, I drifted toward the noise, it seemed to be coming from behind a large wooden door with heavy hinges and knobs. My hand reached to a large bronze door knob, I twisted the knob, my efforts in vane the door was stuck. I could hear the party on the other side. I was anxious to join the revelers.

I pushed my whole weight against the door and still nothing happened. My shoulder edged its way through the wooden door leaving the rest of me suspended between the two rooms.  A man dressed in a tuxedo reached through me, grabbing the knob twisting it and suddenly his spirit was mirroring mine.

His spirit was vicious and nervous. He seemed to momentarily sense my presence. His facial muscles ticked as if trying to brush me away with his mind. It occurred to me that in that moment he could feel me but he couldn’t see me or know what I was seeing in him. His demeanor was cold and calculating his plan lay out in front of me. Sketched was a visual of his itinerary, his intentions an aerial view, sinister and dark. All of this I felt, as sure as I had ever felt, the sun on my face.

I felt a flash of pain, my mangled car, lights, people and sirens enter my consciousness but urgently and without consideration, I pushed it away. I needed to hinder this man’s plan and I needed to do it at the expense of my own resuscitation.

To be continued....