we are the metatron. we tell lies.

dear friends,

do any of you make things with yarn? crocheting and knitting and things like that, i mean. i want to get the baby, who is now actually a toddler, fun winter hats for christmas, and would much rather pay some of you than stores. so if you or anyone you love has this valuable skill, i would gladly give you or them money to do it. thank you so much.

ever yours,

the newly dubbed, by way of ebay estate auction, sir dreadful, the earl of gray.


i think i might go to el salvador to build houses in the early summer. doing good things as an excuse to travel is a nice idea.

kaitlin is alive again. i'm so very glad. i missed her lots and lots.

there is a story in my head: twin gods, little sphinxes, who love and want lies. it involves the library of alexandria. but there is no direction there. it'll just have to keep telling itself to me in whispers.

for my will is as strong as yours.

today i learned more of kaitlin's uncle, the missionary. the world is full of things that make me want to be off to the nunnery.

i walked a labyrinth in a church. i stripped before going in, like christ or inanna. the bell on my boot first, then an army jacket with gifts in the pocket, my boots, a sweater like a net. and i prayed on a mat, hunched over like a foetus or a muslim until i was numb. then i walked. closer, and farther away. and when i got to the center, i felt like no one. and i went to hell. and i learned what hell is: a dark place, huge, holding only one thing. and there were three judges there, or perhaps nine, and they were wearing masks. and they held it. they held my worst thing, and they said that it would always exist. that it would always be true. but that they would keep it. that it wasn't mine anymore. i could have wept. i shall hope that that moment truly was the center. that i'll have to keep going, getting closer and moving farther away, but that i can know that i am on my way out again. either way, though. it isn't mine anymore.