Day 346

The evening flew by. They all have, lately. I seem to be moving forward, fast, while growing ever more aware that I'm approaching the end of this 365- day observation. I'm looking back too. I talked with Aubrey on the phone today. I miss her terribly, but I could hear the momentum and motivation in her voice, her fresh approach to the day. Change is good for us human types.

I'm spending more time on projects and less making poppets. In addition to a new something with the Neil, it looks like we'll be releasing a new "Strange" chapbook next year. I'm also chipping away at my own projects.

I hired a housekeeper.

The Untouchable Torti has taken residence in my back yard. With three kittens. Four cats inside, four cats outside. This will not do. Too many cats. The kittens are nearly old enough for spay and neuter. I don't know which are male or female. I can't get close enough. The cute little buggers become balls of teeth, claws and hisses if I get close.

Just what I needed.

This isn't much more than a laundry list. If I wait for eloquence, it may be another week before I write something. Spellcheck seems not to be functioning. Forgive me in advance then, for whatever I missed.

I'll say this---as I look back over the last 300 days or so I see a lot of stuff happening. A lot of things have changed, a lot of things haven't. The thing that's the most different is me. I didn't realize how different until I looked back. All in all, I'm going to say the days showed me what I was looking for, and a few things I didn't expect.

It will be good to finish this up and change gears a bit. In the meantime, we carry on, don't we?

Day 334

Again and I'm gone from here for days. I've been working and the work has been good. I'm still struggling to balance the long-term projects with the daily 'have-to' list. It's a process.

It seems it's time for the Neil Gaiman and me to make something. We talked over some possibilities the other day. I'm thinking you'd probably enjoy a new collaboration. I've got some ideas that have been pestering me to no end. I'll keep you posted.

I burned my finger on a poppet. Ask me how many times I've done that. I've decided that multi-tasking was invented by someone who hates women. Men can't do it. They're just not hard-wired that way. Man must focus on one thing at a time: Kill food. Mate. Shit.
Woman must not let the fire go out, the Neanderthal-ings toddle out of sight, the skins go unscraped, etc.
Multitasking is bad for the brain and causes burned fingers and cussing.

I'm obviously still thinking of early humans. I look at these bones on my shelf, waiting for paint and other thoughts to turn them into something else. Indeed bones must've been toys for early Earth children. Early humans were constantly in contact with Death. Death was everywhere. Present at all the events of everyday life. Welcomed and accepted as part of life.
Until, of course, religions were invented. But that's another post. It's eleven thirty and I don't even mean to be up. I'm waiting for laundry to pack for leaving tomorrow.

Currently, we play video games and watch cartoons and movies and Death is no longer welcome. In fact, its very existence is often denied. When we run out of lives, we earn more. We die over and over again. We have fewer reminders, generally speaking, as health care is better and people live longer. And are less often killed by bears. On the one hand, the information age brings us instant news of far away disasters. But that news is on screens just like the games and shows. It's not real. Does tragedy have to hit us in our own back yards for us to acknowledge Death? Have we un-friended Death?

If this is so, is there an underlying sociological movement behind this shunning of our once-beloved Grim?

It's what I'm thinking of tonight, waiting for laundry, which has just buzzed. I'm outta here for now. Hope you have a great weekend.
g'night

Day 329

It's 12:33 on a Sunday morning. Finally, I've ribboned the Royal.

And all that goes with...

g'night

Day 326

A little slow to get moving this morning. I woke with a familiar devil in my gut. Fortunately for me, I have tools at hand to banish it, at least to a corner. It will likely squat there for awhile, glaring at me and growling to get back in. It will stay in that corner until it evaporates from lack of attention. I'm a wizard. My tools are internal, summoned silently and instantaneously.

Except when they're not. Occasionally I dig into that other bag. Its tools are a little more cumbersome but just as effective and only a little slower. Music and work.

Technology is beautiful. Pandora and "Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd. If you haven't read these lyrics, or haven't in awhile, you might want to. No one loves this song more than me, and in the back of my mind I hear a soft protest against ripping the words away from the music. But doing so adds another layer. Reading is different from listening. Not better or worse, just different. Your brain knows this. So I read the lyrics, again. These words center me. They're in my bag of tools and might not fit yours.

So, so you think you can tell

Heaven from Hell,blue skies from pain.

Can you tell a green field from a cold steel rail?

A smile from a veil?

Do you think you can tell?

And did they get you to trade your heroes for ghosts?

Hot ashes for trees?

Hot air for a cool breeze?

Cold comfort for change?

And did you exchange a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage?

How I wish, how I wish you were here.

We're just two lost souls swimming in a fish bowl,

year after year,

Running over the same old ground.

What have you found?

The same old fears.

But there they are. Powerful words for me. Find yours and keep them close. I pour a cup of coffee. I tie my apron. I'm going to work, happy to be wherever this is. Yup. I'm a wizard. And so are you.

I've tied my morning apron on about 7,480 times, so far.

Hope your day is good. Thanks for being here with me.

Day 322

Again off to the high desert, this time with Orion and his friend Ethan in tow. I can't convey the scents, the arresting height and breadth of the view or the feel of the crisp, cold air. But I can tell you at least, that the light was like silk. It touched every stone, every living thing with a gentle fluidity. I don't know that I captured any of that, but I brought some of it back with me. I can already feel this influence on my work and I'm look forward to watching it integrate itself into what I make in the next months. We'd hoped to catch the snow, but not this trip. Still, it was beautiful and supports the notion that to make good art, an artist must move things into her mind. It's a good notion and it rings true at every turn. I hope you enjoy these views. It will be interesting, likely, to recall them later on. I know if you've been following me here, you already have a sense of where this place is taking me. Thank you to Paul, for opening your home to us and guiding us through this amazing bit of Earth you know so well.

Day 317

I took some time for quiet. I looked around from a mountain. The mountain made me not much bigger than a mote, relatively.

I gave my attention to the wind, which took it playfully and carried it off to the clouds.

I studied the remains of things that once were very much alive and that now are art, shaped by time and the elements.

I studied them closely and found worlds there as large as the sky, full of detail, at least at this proximity.

Way up here, troubles have small voices. Up here, the invisible can be visible. It can fill our vision if we allow it.

All of this I took inside and, wrapped in the gracious hospitality of my good friend, I worked it in pencils, wood and clay.

It's sound and sane to embrace quiet. It allows things to fall silently into their places, where they make more sense.

It was a good place from which to approach Halloween. I came back down the hill and celebrated with children and candy, with greetings to others in masks. I celebrated also in a quiet inner place, where Halloween feels right and real.

Hope yours was good.

Day 314

I've stepped away, into higher elevations and lower temperatures. A change of scenery does a world of good. The high desert is beautiful and I'm finding inspiration everywhere I turn. When I get back, I'll share some of it with you.

Your artist is taking a rest and a deep breath of fresh air.

Day 313

Sunrise. Not nearly enough sleep. I stayed up way too late editing photos from the festival. Shouldn't have had coffee after six, but I did.

The alarm goes off and I recognize that raw feeling. I know the drill. Break it down into bits. It's cold in the house, so robe. And coffee. Yes, I know. Too much coffee. Can't fix everything at once.

For the moment, it will get me through. Then a PTG meeting and after, end of session awards program.

I'm going to be making some small prints and notecards available. I've been gathering them for a book, but I can't make that happen just yet. I don't know how many people still send physical notes, but I really like paper, textures and small bits of art. Was thinking to use images from larger work as well. I'll put them out and see what sort of feedback I get. I'd welcome your suggestions. Some of the images I'm considering are on the page. Let me know if there's something you remember and would like to see again.

I've amassed images from over twenty years of art.

It's like time travel.

I'm heading into the day. Hope your's is good.

Day 312

Thank you for yesterday.

Fell asleep listening to Mushi Shi. If you don't know it, you might want to.



This morning, sure enough, sunlight paints the view outside my windows. Color magic. I like the grey too. Dusk and Dawn are my favorite times of day. I've painted Dawn. I imagine Dusk will come in its own time.

Still, I don't plan to wait for inspiration to come to me today. I'm going looking..never mind, she's already arrived.
Whatever happens, I'll do my best to step over it to keep pace with her. It's the least I can do to show my appreciation.

Hope she comes to you when you call.

Day 311

Sigh.

Spencer, Stop commenting here. It serves no one. If you're doing so to embarrass me, you've succeeded. You say the people who'll read this aren't my 'real' friends. I had an exchange with one of them today. She's real to me. She's not words on a page. She has a life and troubles of her own. I haven't met her "in person."

Technology is forcing us to redefine many things, including art, books, friendship and conversation. Eventually, we'll have to redefine what is human. You know this. The last three years have been really difficult. The last one in particular. You know this too. I don't know what I would've done without these friends. If that's not real, I don't know what is.

That said, here we are, in this space with these friends. Let's get to it then, shall we? Here we are, airing it out in their presence. Great. Well, they seem pretty damned real to me at the moment. I'm embarrassed. Yup. I'm just loving this. Spencer, the difference between you and me is that I don't attack your character in front of your family or your friends. Your dark secrets are safe with me. They always were. We didn't make it. It didn't work. It hurt. We have two different versions that don't agree. Instead, let's call it and move on. No one is a victim. You have no claim on me.

Of course, there's this bit:

The things you left here, you dumped in my front yard as I yelled at you to stop. I gave you three weeks to make arrangements to have someone pick them up. I don't know what your circumstances were, but I know you went surfing in Malibu. I held on to the things I thought meant the most to you. They're still available for someone else to get for you, but not for much longer. I'm not responsible for your things. I didn't throw them away, you did. This the sum and total of our unfinished business.

The best we can do is go forward and live the rest of our lives, finding what happiness we can. Either way, it will all go by really, really fast. I like to think that time isn't real and that somewhere we're laughing about being human. You and me and all those other humans we know. I didn't say I quite believe it, but I sure do like to imagine it. Silly humans. In that elsewhere, we understand how tiny all this is.

But we're in this here and now. You dumped your things on my lawn. You refused to remove them. You came to my home and destroyed my property. Then you invaded this space with negative comments. Did I mention WTF?

I'm very much homo sapiens. And all that goes with. You said all you want is closure. Here it is. Stay the hell off my lawn. I won't address you again. You can count on that too. I will, however, defend my space. All of it.

To all of you, tomorrow is another day. G'night

Day 310

Today is another day. Day 310 of the 365. I'm closing in on this year. Encapsulated, it's a colorful gem. You have one too. When I started at Day 1, I didn't know at all what the rest of the days would hold. Some were real surprises. But I'm not done yet. I'm going to see the year through, then there will be something else. I haven't read back through the entries yet. I suspect that will need a glass of wine, or three. Or maybe I'll not try to sum it up other than to say I'm grateful for the experience. That one, I can be sure of. Dark and light, I love life.

No hint of the sun yet. Orion is still sleeping. Bilbo's found a tidbit and is batting it around.

Today is another day. Let's go see what this one's about.

Mine begins with studies of Old Souls.

Hope yours is good.

Day 306

Poppet is murdered.


Last night was the school's fall festival. Yesterday was full of errands in preparation. This time, I was gone for inside of an hour. I returned to find her lying on the ground, her shattered wand thrown into the street. She lay in the sunlight, in a litter of smashed pots and cigarette butts.
The gate was kicked open, the small lock broken. Around the house were angry stories---vines torn from the windows, the grill tumbled on its side, other pieces broken. There were no signs of attempts to enter the house. This house can't be entered so easily. At least there's that.
But Poppet lay brutally broken. This was personal.
I know who did this. Breaking up is hard to do, the song says. Breaking up with an unstable person can be dangerous. I've learned that most creative people have oddities. That seems to go with the territory. But some of those people have oddities that run deep. They aren't revealed until they have no more reason to hide them. I've acquired a new phone, changed my other numbers, secured my house.
His oddities include violently blaming others for troubles he created. Now it appears to be my turn to shoulder this blame. In his heart of hearts, I'm not the one he's angry at. This is the stuff at the center of many stories of demons and monsters. A human at war with himself.
And now poor poppet is murdered.

Be careful, dear readers, whom you let into your lives. Some things cannot be uncovered even with background checking. They must be found by other methods, beginning with looking past the glamour of love. I saw signs. In retrospect, I see they were flashing neon ones. I rationalized past them. It's me, after all. Things are different with me. Yes, be careful. Otherwise you'll be where I am now, deeply shamed for my gullibility, blaming myself for someone else's actions.
Or worse.
Poor Poppet.
I carried her back to the spot where she'd stood under the trees and laid her gently down. Her spirit very likely still lives and now I must create a new place for it and see if it moves in.

Take care. Really, take care.