jacktellslies: (crow)
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I'm doing a bit of midnight cleaning. My house is obviously possessed, so I'm scrubbing its mouth out with soap before forcing it to swallow thirty gallons of holy water the wrong way. A proper storm stalks outside, the thunder breathing heavily on us while it watches. Tom and Erica recently travelled to New Orleans and were kind enough to buy me a bottle of voodoo floor wash. I'd planned to keep it as something of an amusing prop, but fuck it, I'm using it.

I bought a mask in Brussels: a woman made of dark, dark wood and human hair, her eyes narrowed to slits and her smile a knowing sliver, a scar or a moon. I work with that mask, sometimes: I'll ask her questions, or ask her to watch something for me. I moved the mask aside before sweeping, and living behind her face was a spider, a small one, perched in her web. Well hullo, old lady. The mask has a far finer mind than I could ever boast, and the spider has demonstrated superb housekeeping. It's good to know that I've been directing my enquiries to the proper authorities.

(I'm a touch disappointed that Krys wrote what she did tonight, because I'm afraid that she's rather stolen my thunder. Given the sort of woman that she is, I may be forced to admit that the thunder was hers to begin with.)

As I've grown older, I've stopped calling the gods by name. The more one learns of them, the more obvious it seems that one would do best to avoid their attentions as much as possible. But my distrust has never been less than amicable. It's often quite loving. But all this year they've been taking things from me, unravelling my efforts, the things that I have carefully built.

They are old and they are mad and I no longer trust that they have a point to make. If they had something to say, they ought to have said it. Because I have things to learn. I am very busy. And they have been getting in my way. Now I am going to start feeding them to each other.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-07-12 12:36 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] thereallinda.livejournal.com
i have a dear, wise-woman friend, who used to be a Hudson Valley River-rat but has moved to Eugene, Oregon --- our loss. anyway, she is a very busy gardener/herbalist/belly dancer, and is in constant tug of war with the powers that be. she has taken to calling the gods "George & Gracie" and is convinced that the whole show is nothing more than a comedy routine and our frustration in life is simply that we aren't getting the joke.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-07-12 07:10 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] westlinwind.livejournal.com
I love this.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-07-12 03:33 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] marnanel.livejournal.com
Yesterday I was at a conference in a place where English is not spoken. I mean to write a sonnet about how the local gods might have had something to say to me but I couldn't understand a word of it.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-07-12 06:53 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] chronographia.livejournal.com
A few nights ago, I dreamt that the Lady of Chaos came and investigated me, and, having come to the conclusion that I was drawing too much order out of chaos, tweaked reality so that more havoc would ensue. Oh yes. And havoc has ensued since. (Discordians are aware at the start that you should strive to come to the attention of the gods as little as possible.)

My new favorite expression that I've come across is 'Thank the teapot, [. . .] !' It is probably more accurate since I do, in fact, worship the teapot and it deserves thanks.

(no subject)

Date: 2009-07-12 07:14 pm (UTC)
From: [identity profile] westlinwind.livejournal.com
*kisses Jack's forehead* The thunder, as much as I adore him, was never mine.

The gods are reckless, feckless, capricious, and generally inclined to answer every wish I make of them. That's why I've stopped making wishes. I'll let them be amused at someone else's expense, thanks.

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