Monday, December 12, 2005

to clarify.......

I basically feel as though the mountain i have begun to climb is no longer covered in ice. At one point i sat in the deepest point of the valley and cried till the salt of my tears floated me to the top. And i looked out over that huge molehill and saw a bright sun rising. And the waters fell and i stood in the valley. And i grabbed hold and pulled myself up slowly but surely. This time when i look out and see the sun, it was my own hard work and sweat that brought me to this point of bliss. And again i weep, my tears of joy nourish the grass and flowers bloom and i drink till i am satiated. And joy seeps into my bloodstream like alcohol to make my heart flutter. Wings break through my back and i soar above the mountain and the valley and the tears and the flowers and the sun is far now and i am on my own . I am alive, i drink the clouds and kiss the air as i build a nest in the sky.

...maybe that wasnt clear, basically i see possibility start to materialize and dreaming becoming reality and i have hope and faith and fill my every particle with the most positive thoughts i can muster and i feel good. better than usual.

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

excerpt from book

In the center of the forest, in the midst of lush greenery there sits a wooden house. The house seems small, and its wood is rotting as its paint peels off. The windows are covered with mildew and dust and no light seems to escape from the dirt-caked screens that that smell of ash. But as one steps forward there comes a noise.
To any response but “Leaf” this cabin remains as it seems, but if that single word is uttered the cellar door suddenly appears to open itself and the scent of clove and mint, mixed with sweet green tea fills the clearing.
A little old man, his skin a faded shade of dark green sits in a rocking chair made of pine cones. shifting from one side to the other waiting for a circle to form around him. The eager children twitch and peer silently up at him from their seated semi-circle. Finally one stands and addresses the old man.
“Grandfather, tell us the story!”
The others nod in agreement whispering, “Do, Do.”
As the children sit the old man steadies himself and clears his throat.
“Our story begins one hundred and ninety years ago, when I was a very young boy. I had just celebrated my thirtieth birthday with the village when the news came. In a most unusual occurrence there was to be a royal divorce. Now I presume that all of you have slept through your lessons with Myrltyg so I’ll give you some background.
Various people speculate the cause of all the trouble. Most blame the queen or perhaps it was the King, maybe even that dirty maid Cinders-Ella or the little man-wizard, perhaps even the shoemaker. I suppose we need to tell the story before you decide though, so do pay attention.
The root of the excitement came before the Wretched One ruled the land, when she was still referred to as "Snow White" and loved all creatures. The story of her escape from an evil Step Mother with ambition to be queen with the help of a band of miner-dwarfs was well publicized. The Prince who had given her the kiss of true love and awakened her from the slumber of death was now King of the land and all was going well.
Years continued to pass and the King began to worry about an heir to his throne. The palace apothecary gave “Snow White” concoctions of syrups and spices, and there was no result at all. Snow White had to stop attending the dinners and balls. All this because the doctors said she need all her rest so that her womb might harbor a child. Without her social calendar Snow White began to show her age. People stopped coming from far and wide to see her famed beauty. Snow White no longer had hair of black, lips of red and skin as white as fresh snowflakes. Alas, she had graying hair, thin pink lips and the skin of a woman passed her prime.
The prince, now King, did not know what to do with himself. He realized that he hadn’t appropriately thought out his plans when he kissed the maiden in the glass coffin. The years were passing and logically Snow White was even more infertile than she had been. But the King was a good man, and he always tried to do the right thing. He awoke early each morning to go visit his wife and see that she was comfortable. One morning he noticed a young girl polishing the queen’s jewelry, seated on the floor. He began to arrive earlier each morning, just to see this poor maiden. She was covered in cinders every morning after lighting the queen’s fires, but her beauty of soul outshone the dirt. He desired her as he had once desired the Queen.
Immediately the King had his officers inquire about the girl. The story they returned with was so unusual that the King was even further intrigued.
“The girl is the daughter of the palace artist Frances de Bequette. He died peculiarly two years ago. It occurred while he was on a trip to show his art to some new patrons in hopes of completing a painting of the famed arches at the River Ladue. The servants claim it was the work of the woman he had married shortly after his first wife, the girl’s mother, died. She has two daughters of her own and wanted the artist’s inheritance for their dowries. His body was found naked and beaten alongside a whore, although whoever had killed him had left all his money on the horse. Perceptibly, this rules out road bandits and it was likely a hired killing. The widow sold the girl, whose name is Ella, into servitude at the castle for ten years. She is coming up on two years, the young men who work in the castle used to follow her everywhere, hoping that she would favor them, but she showed so little interest that the suitors gave up.“