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Showing posts from March, 2020

Musings on the Turning of the Seasons

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Day whatever of the end of March. Did I say that yesterday? The weather is gorgeous. Puffy clouds. LA skies have never been bluer. There's a hint of rain in the air. The quiet is so relaxing. Have been sleeping like a baby. But I barely know what day it is and things seem to be slipping in some respects. Oh, and I made pancakes this morning. They were DELICIOUS!  It's the small things... Also, started the morning with an international call with various members of the Covenant of Hekate. A very interesting group of people talking about the myths of Persephone and Demeter as it relates to Hekate. There's much food for thought. I've always been fascinated with Hekate's liminal aspects. Those transition times pregnant with possibility. But I'd never really considered Hekate's role as a facilitator in the myths. It's because of this aspect, the mediating between the light and the dark, Spring is allowed to be sprung. And with Hekate's aid, Pers

Shadowcats

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Hi! I'm back. So much for doing this every day.  Maybe I don't have that much to say.  Maybe I'm just lazy.  It's a toss up.  I am preoccupied. There's still words that have to be strung together in a narrative form.  Concepts have to be pulled from seemingly thin air. The world is falling to shit around us.  The lunatics have taken over the asylum. And those in charge need a serious spanking for telling lies.  Give it a few more days and a sense of ennui will overcome the anxiety. Not my anxiety. I'm built for this shit. I love my own company and being left alone to create. I'm talking the general state of things. Of those around me. Or around us.  Or around whoever.  Do we even know anymore?  My friend Anna Taborska sent me a copy of her latest book of short stories, Shadowcats . It's terrific and vicious. Of course she failed to mention one of the stories The Cat Sitter is up for an award with the HWA. Seriously, it's that g

Things to Come

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It's Day Five here. Have managed to fuck up the personal domain transfer already. Which means I can't look at the blog. Not to mention anyone else. Just noticed my peppermint tea has a message on the bag. "Tough time don't last. Tough people do." Well, darlin', then I am here to stay.  Am built for the long haul. Had the strangest dream last night. Somewhere outside of Las Vegas I was in this fancy hotel teaching a seminar with some of my favorite magical friends. Was luxuriating in the fancy hotel room, drinking coffee, flipping through my messages, contemplating taking a long hot soak, when my friend comes in informing me California is shutting down. We have to leave right away. I don't quite believe them, but follow outside. Across the desert in the far distance I see a mauve-tinged cloud settling on the horizon. There's people yelling into a loud speaker. It echoes bizarrely. In the sky are two planes. But they're not really planes. T

We Burn To Remember

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Above, the marker stone erected in 1960. March 16th is always a solemn day. The day is 1244 that 224 martyrs were burned en masse at the fields below the castle of Montsegur. At dawn, the were chained together and led down the mountain. Do not believe they went into the fires singing of their of free will. That is some mumbo jumbo made up by a pseudo-historian about 30 years ago. None of the old dossiers speak of such a thing. The villagers will tell you they have heard the chains rattling on the path to the castle at night. I have heard them myself. If anything it was the ward dogs of God, the Inquisitors, who were singing the Veni Creator Spiritus . And until the early 20th century, this day was celebrated in the village of Montsegur by the townsfolk dragging a cross through the streets to the burning fields. There, they would hold hands in a circle and sing the same song. Barbaric superstition? Or arcane magic within the Catholic church to make certain what lay buried, stay bu

Four-Score, Nevermore

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It's a better day to be certain.  Now, it's only raining, sporadically. It'll do. I managed to put some magazine articles up on this site. Check it out!  And a basic movies page since people always ask. Soon the hateful WordPress site will be no more. Hurrah! And Four-Score, Nevermore.  Which is code to me to finish mapping out the last episode on a new project. So close, yet so far. Always more. Never done.  Never wanna be done.  Therein lies the rub.  Wow. Another photo came in this morning from Rik Garrett. I love when I look scary. Seriously, I do. And I'm loving this -- long in the tooth & sharp of claw. Cronedom.  Thank you once again, Mr. Garrett! (I love when photographers 'capture'  the inner me.) Am managing to get a lot of rest and do an enormous amount of writing while on lockdown.  Those many winters of being snowed under in the Pyrenees has given me some pretty good survival skills for coping with isolation. But what worries

Day Three Blues

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It's still pissing cats and dogs. Day three and I'm over it. The Jeep is being satanic so I'm stuck until Monday. Tea Party cancelled. I'm eating all the cookies. Genesis P died this morning. And I beginning to suspect I started this blog not to grease the wheels, but as another distraction. At least it's a writing distraction. With all the pandemic misinformation and hysteria flying around it makes me wonder what's really happening when we're not looking. Ugh... Lux is a regal bastard. Went out looking for Lux earlier but he's hunkered down somewhere I can't find him. Am so used to him noisily squawking and honking all day long that it feels weirdly silent. I think the whole canyon has the day three blues. Except the bears across the way. They have a home cinema. And a popcorn maker. And vodka. Dammit. Am envious. Someone asked me the other day on Instagram about the rabbit pictures. On the first day of each month the first thing

On Lockdown

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Day Two of the end of the world. We're officially on lockdown now. Went to the madhouse of a supermarket. Bought supplies for a few weeks. Drawbridge is up at the witches cottage. It's still pissing cats and dogs. And I'M THRILLED! (No, not about the pandemic, and the terrible state of the world. Just the social-distancing part.) Those roots! Generally, I'm in braids. So much time to write. So much time to paint. So much time to read. So much time watch everything. Sleeping in. But no boxing which sucks. Once you are in boxing shape you never want to skip a day or take time off because getting into boxing shape is so bloody hard. And there's no way in hell I would actually get that in shape without someone else holding me accountable. It's been one day and I already miss the gym. Gravity already has it claws in me. I can feel it. I could take up running, but let's be real, that would last for a couple of days. Hmmm. I could always wear latex glove

It's The End of the World

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People are panicking in the markets. More toilet paper! More Purell ! Utter madness. It's also pissing cats and dogs. And I spent 4 and a half hours at the mechanics this morning, paid a ridiculous amount of cash, and the Jeep still isn't driving right. Neither the time nor place for this bullshit, driving gods.  But at least I have cool friends. I did this shoot with Rik Garrett a couple of weeks ago over at The Crooked Path . I stumbled across Rik's work when his Earth Magic book came out. I was still living France. In fact I was staying at a village chateau in Chalabre working on Sisters of the Wasteland when a friend sent some of the images to me. I was captivated. Film. Black and White. Gritty. Scary. Beautiful. Super Charged. Elemental. Naked. Witches. What's not to love? So, of course we he asked to shoot me I jumped at the chance--even if I am getting a little long in the tooth to be in front of the camera.  Here's one of the first images. I

Say Hello, Wave Goodbye

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Cannot believe I am back here again. I never thought I would say this--but I have missed having a blog. Wordpress looks splashy but it's a bitch to update. Subsequently, my website has not been updated in ages. Lame, I know. But I can't be bothered anymore. Which is a shitty attitude, but it is what it is. So here I am. I feel all rusty and nervous, like I would have felt at prom--had I gone to prom. I went to see The Exploited play in Chicago instead. That should tell you what kind of teenager I was. Anyways, I need to grease the wheels in different ways. All of my writing for the last however many months has been for work. Am not bitching because I am so lucky and so blessed to be working with the people I am writing and creating with. And I'm in love with all of the projects. It's been an amazing year so far. But I miss writing for myself. I miss having somewhere to keep things current. To share my successes and failures. To share my weird ideas and fascinations.