jacktellslies: (circusfolk)
It is Monday, and, at last! the Winter Moon.

I found my favourite book, Myths and Legends of Flowers, Trees, Fruits, and Plants, by Charles M. Skinner, in the used book shop in the Italian Market. I know it to be my favourite book, despite the fact that I'm not yet past the ash tree in a mostly alphabetical volume. Proof:

We who eat and wear and smoke the plants and drink their sap and juices find in them not only sustenance and shelter, but dreams, medicine, and death; the sharpening and dulling of our nerves; support for the weak and refreshment for the fainting. We find, moreover, oblivion and inspiration... Few, if any, races have escaped the influence of narcotics and stimulants, and inconsistent though it seem, those who do with the least of them are not the most progressive peoples. The Chinese smoke opium, it is true, and the Indians tobacco, but civilized man has accustomed himself to opium, tobacco, wine, tea, coffee, and cocaine.

Does anyone else play with del.icio.us? I am quite new.
jacktellslies: (execution)
The city has been covered in snowflakes since mid fall. They are sprayed on the windows of every coffee chain. Big electric ones poke out from behind the leaves that still cover the trees around City Hall. The leaves aren't even the brown, defeated ones that simply lack the energy to loosen their grip. They're the golden and red sort, glorious and dying but not dead. I don't mind discussing Christmas early, but forcing the association with winter before it is in any way relevant seems almost schizophrenic.

But it's December now, apparently. I've been walking the city in summer clothes. I've seen bulbs coming up, new grass of the colour one only sees on the first days of spring. I'm not exactly the sort to insist too strongly upon any particular theory on shifts in climate, but I can tell when something isn't right.

Flowers out of season mean trouble without reason: my mother hasn't a great many aphorisms, but she does have a few favourite superstitions. And, when my mother believes something, I'm inclined to trust her, even if a good deal of her wisdom finds its origin in rock songs.

Where is the cold, and the dark? Where is the sleeping?
jacktellslies: (emma goldman)
To whom it may concern:

I shall be dropping out of the gift-giving-and-receiving segment of the holidays again this year. I am fond of winter and the holidays that happen therein. However, I'm not exactly a Christian, and I'm certainly not much of a capitalist, so I'd rather not play that particular part of the game. I'll share gifts with my immediate family, and with a couple of close friends, but what I'd most like this year is to give a few exhausted sales people fifteen seconds during which to breathe. Thank you ever so much for your attention to this matter.

Yours always,
jacktellslies: (shrine)
so. now that that is out of the way. my family is amazing. i've been so excited about spending time with them. they are funny, and generous, and kind. ally has a new rocking horse, and, as far as i've seen, nothing new that uses batteries, which is magnificent. they all liked what i gave them, and they gave me beautiful things that i needed: sheets for my bed when it is my bed again, and warm clothes, of which i haven't terribly many this winter, and tea.

my mum bought me boyclothes. my sister pointed it out to me, and she was excited about it. she didn't have to know that, or to do that. she didn't have to at all. i'd have loved and worn whatever she bought me, obviously. but it was this small, significant, perfect thing. i would do anything for my family. i suspect, and hope, that nothing will ever be more important to me than them. but i do not deserve them at all. they are so very good.

i got a bit of money, too, which is new and exciting. i have been playing with numbers. it will be enough, i think, for paying my debts, for some things for my room, for a bit of security, and for two toys: the name, and, perhaps, if i am very, very good, and if the reserve is not more than fifty dollars (which might not be the case) and if i can convince someone that a road trip to northeast pennsylvania, near elk mountain would not be unreasonable (i would, of course, offer compensation) i may try to get this beautiful, perfect, terrible thing.


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August 2009

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