Stressed

"He hugged me. I feel violated."  my message to my cousin around noon.

Walsh-:"What? Who?"  which he didn't message back until just after 3pm.

Me-:"Cousin R. He and his mom were over this morning for a bit."  referring to the 60 year old male version of an old maid. "Grabbed me and hugged me."

Walsh-:"Crap!...you still at auntie's?"

Me-:"Till tomorrow. Why?"

Walsh-:"parking lot two minutes."

Stood freezing in the parking lot for closer to ten before his truck pulled up. One of the lady's from the next building was outside filling a bird feeder, and started asking me about mom's surgery. Told her twice in the ten minutes that it's next week she goes to have it done. Walsh had the kids in the back seat, I guess he'd been picking them up from school when he messaged me back.

Walsh-:"My older sister said she bumped into them last week at the mall, he grabbed her and hugged her too, asked her where she works now.When she said where, he said he might be by on Friday. She said it was really uncomfortable."  he lit a cigarette trying to hide so the kids didn't see him smoking.

Me-:"I'm glad it's not just me. He keeps asking me to come to church with him. Then he saw one of my books on the table the other week, started going on about how good christian people don't read Twilight."

Walsh-:"Twilight? Really?"

Me-:"It had a vampire on the cover. If he thinks Twilight is bad, good god man, if he'd actually of picked up the book he would have had a heart attack."   I started shaking a clump of mysterious dog fur off my pant leg. It had somehow attached itself between me leaving mom's apartment and coming outside. Must have happened walking through the lobby.  Walsh shook his head at me laughing.

Walsh-:"Twilight." he hooked his thumb towards the kids. "She's discovered that other one, that academy one."  I nodded, peeking in at the kids.

Me-:"Right. Saw the commercial for the movie for that. Vampire Academy. Never heard of them till last month. Suppose to be like a step up from Twilight. Can we talk about my being hugged against my will?"

He laughed again at me shrugging. "He's doing it a lot lately. Mom said he hugged her too there one day when she bumped into them once at the movies. Scared the hell out of her."

Me-:"Weird. I don't like being in the same room as him anymore, well never have actually."

Walsh-:"My dad was saying his dad, uncle E. was back in the hospital."

Me-:"That was few months ago. He's got like a home care nurse comes in like every day. They don't have much hope he'll see the year's end. Aunt T. isn't looking the best either. When E. dies, I am guessing she won't be far after."

Walsh tossed the cigarette butt into the snow, burying it. "You look like crap. How's everything else?"

Me-:"I feel like crap. You know, there at christmas, I lost 10 pounds without even trying. That couple of weeks mom was staying at her sister's. I slept better, not as many headaches, less body aches, ate better, stressed less. The second things got back to routine, I gained all the weight back, not sleeping, totally stressed out, my body is killing me, and I've had a permanent headache. My mom makes me sick."

My cousin sighed. "You loose your man, sorry your muse." he grinned like a little kid. "Get grabbed by a dirty old man."

Me-:"You're not helping. Okay shhsshh about Mad Hatter. Done, finished talking about that. Over forever."

He shook his head as he turned to get back into the truck. "Mad Hatter is never going to be over. He's Mr. Scratchy and you know it."

Me-:"I know no such thing. I know that I'm tired and just want to find the real Mr. Scratchy."

Walsh-:"He is the real Mr. Scratchy. And you'll never be done with him."

Me-:"Well, maybe I should be done with you then. Get a new theory. New one. New moon, new theory."

The kids started to get restless in the truck, asking if they could go to the indoor pool, and ice cream and to their friends. Walsh was saying something to them when he closed the door and took off.

Post it note 30th

Today is a new moon and the eve of Chinese New Year for a year of the Horse.
All about new beginnings.  So, I thought, Mr. Scratchy; Herman, it needed a blog post. Post-it note it is.

Okay, I just spent twenty minutes typing about the cosmic joke and Johnny Cash songs and closing the door on last year, and then deleted it, cause it was...yeah boring. True, but boring.

Here's to something fresh and new and exciting happening in the year of the Horse. In 2014 in general.

One last round of "I imagine you..."   Herman, I imagine you checking in this morning, or afternoon or evening or whatever it is wherever you are; dressed in a pair of grey...no purple pajama bottoms, a ripped beat up dirty yellow t-shirt, oversized coffee cup in hand, maybe a travel mug, something that's scratched up that you've had kicking around for a few years in your car, something that you picked up once at a corner store/gas station one cold night. You're using it because it's comfortable. For some reason, I imagine you needing something...things around you today that are comforting. So it's the mug, the torn and extremely worn clothes, lots of hot tea and coffee, and an old iPod playlist from like four years ago. And I think you've got a bag of mini chocolate bars, sitting right there on your kitchen counter that you keep nibbling from today. The kind that are meant for Hallowe'en. I imagine you...literally just standing around in the kitchen half the day because that's the one room that seems fitting today.

As always Herman, I hope I brought a smile to your face. Now if you'd just open up and step out of the damned shadows for a few days... give me a real hint.

Haha

"I know you couldn't do it."  the message from my cousin Walsh said.  He was referring to me unkilling the lead character in my fairy tale, based on Mad Hatter.

Me-:"It's a good character. I've had fun writing it."

Walsh-:"You know what this means right?"

Me-:"Not heading into the bottomless abyss of writer's block this week."

Walsh-:"Besides that stupid."

Me-:"Clue me."

Walsh-:"You can't give up your crush because you are not meant to. HAHAHA!!!!!!"

No, I think it just means the character is more inspiring then even I thought.  Anne Rice once said she had hung up her most famous character - the vampire Lestat- after the first three novels, with the purpose of never writing another novel or story with him anywhere in it, and found herself after half the manuscript of another book series (I think it was her Mayfair Witches books, which Lestat does do a cross over story for)  dreaming, longing to get back subconsciously to that character, that she felt haunted by him. That's pretty much what happened in regards to the fairy tale and me last night. I literally dreamed the scene that I wrote this morning.  He's become my Lestat. (and the character based on Werewolf King is like my version of Louis, and the one based on Rebel without a Cause is like my Armand) I don't know if that will be good or bad? For Anne Rice, she's been connected to the Vampire Chronicles now for over forty years. I don't know if I want this character of mine there to be hanging around that long...a few more months maybe.

Tradition when you have no Tradition

So, I've mentioned lately that one of the things I promised myself this year, was that I would start getting serious about my spiritual side again which I've let slide the last few years.  One of the things connected to that is physically getting a new grimoire. (on the tv show 'Charmed' they called it the Book of Shadows, Which is both wrong and right. Books of Shadows is a personal witch's diary, a Grimoire is the group book/one that gets past down through family members)  You know, the original little black book. Which really usually weren't black, most were tanned leather. I'm getting sidetracked here...I promised myself this year, that I would get one that would stand the test of time. Something that I could leave as a family heirloom.

So far, so good. Right. Then last night, I had been looking at designs online from a few companies who make them, pricing what it would be to have a custom one done. And one of my eviler aunts saw what I was doing.  I didn't even hear her come in cause stupid me had my iPod on and back turned to the doorway.  Her reaction was "Why would you do something like that when you don't have a family? There's never going to be anyone to give it to. What are you going to do, leave it in your will to the mailman?"

As hurtful as it was, she has a point. I'm the first one, that I'm aware of, in my family history who follows anything other then Christianity. (Protestant mostly, a few cousins have converted to Catholic when they got married)

Had I not felt like I'd been verbally and emotionally slapped in the face, I would have said something witty like "all traditions have to start somewhere". But, I just sat there deflated for a bit, thinking about the whole thing.

Is a tradition really a tradition, if there is no one to guarantee it will be continued?  Then I started thinking about how no one ever truly knows what parts of their personal beliefs or practices will ever go beyond them after they've died. I hear people talking all the time about their legacy.  For those of us on this planet who never have a family of our own, who never do something that will land us in some form of a museum or hall of fame, does that mean we have no right to want a form of legacy/tradition? Should we back down and not strive for that basic human desire of the idea that something of us will continue on after we're long gone?

I've accepted the fact none of my novels will ever sit on a shelf next to Stephen King or Anne Rice, I'll never win a Bram Stoker's award or be read out loud at a Jane Austen society meeting. I'll never see my paintings in the Guggenheim next to the Pollocks or the Picassos. I'll never have a movie premiere at the Toronto Film Festival. None of that is in the cards for me.

The only thing I can say for sure is that I have to follow my heart and hope something of it sticks around after my body's beyond broken.

Who?

I was getting mom's mail for her, and G-Babbs was coming into the building with her dog. Spotting me, she called me over to where she was.  "Sean was asking about you."

Me-:"Who?"

G-Babbs-:"Sean."

Me-:"Yeah I have no idea who that is."

She seemed disturbed at me saying that, a look on her face like she tasted something bad. "Sean. The maintenance guy."  she was waving her one hand around in circles, the dog pulling on the leash.

Me-:"Yeah, still don't know who you're talking about cause there's like three of them."

G-Babbs-:"The tall young one."   I know I was still standing there looking like a moron. "The Native guy." 

Me-:"Oh him. Why was I thinking his name was Bill?"

G-Babbs-:"No that's the older one with the salt and pepper hair." she waved her hand at me again, rolling her eyes. "God, I wouldn't stop to talk to him." she picked the dog up, undoing his leash. "He's outside still, shoveling."

Me-:"Okay?"

G-Babbs-:"Why don't you go talk to him?"

Me-:"I don't even know him."  Which is true, the only thing I know of him is that he's always moping the floors when I come over in the mornings.

G-Babbs-:"This is a good time to get to."

I looked at the empty hallway trying to come up with an excuse not to. "I don't have any reason to."  G-Babbs rolled her eyes at me again, mumbled something and took off down the hallway to her apartment. Something tells me that had more to do with my conversation the other day with Tarot Lady, then anything else. Tarot Lady had asked me if I was dating anyone, and I said no. Her and G-Babbs get together for coffee every morning.

Dirty Laundry 34

My cousin was at the door this morning around 11:30.  "Do you live here now or something?"

Walsh-:"Do you?" he asked as he stood in the doorway of mom's.

Me-:"Might have to my rent is getting increased this month. Pay-per-view was last night remember."

Walsh-:"There any coffee?" he headed right for the kitchen. I asked what he was doing here again?  He shrugged saying he had a day off. "Kids are at school, wife's at work, didn't feel like sitting home alone."

Me-:"And instead of hanging out with your real friends, you came here? What's wrong with you?"

He sat on the kitchen counter, which he knows I hate, and just sat there for a few minutes slurping his coffee. Mom chatted with him for a minute reading some of his sister-in-laws facebook comments, like they were the golden age of reporting. Then he turned to me with a look.  "Did you write today?"

Me-:"Something tells me you know that answer to that already."   he didn't say anything else. Just sat there picking at a bunch of bananas. "I bought myself a couple of weeks till I figure out what the hell I'm going to do. And I still hate you."

Walsh-:"Still?"

Me-:"I might not have even noticed that tape for weeks." I filled the kettle for more coffee. "Those three characters were only suppose to be one page, and somehow the whole story became about them. Now, what am I going to do?"  he slapped my shoulder as he moved to the kitchen table. "And to top it all off, right back to square one with the guessing game."

Walsh-:"Guessing game?"

Me-:"Who's Mr. Scratchy?"

Walsh-:"You know who Mr. Scratchy is. It's still Mad Hatter. Always has been."

Me-:"What part of it just can't are you not accepting? The it can't or the it can't?"

Then he gave me this look, like I had uttered the stupidest thing ever. Which I might have given my brains lately. 

Walsh-:"You said, that he hasn't caused the right side itch in a while right? That you thought he might have gotten into a relationship."

Okay he got me there. "I also said he might have fallen off a cliff and died. There's still that excuse. Or aliens. Joined a cult..." he laughed at me. "Okay maybe not a cult, that would make too much sense. And you know, can't have that...making sense I mean."

Walsh-:"So what are you going to do about it?"

Me-:"About what? Making sense with a cult?"

Walsh-:"Uh...the whole thing. The fairy tale, Mr. Scratchy..."

Me-:"I have no idea. I managed to write something this morning. Should be enough to buy me a few weeks to sort out where to take the story next?"

He sat there just playing with his lighter, flipping it over and over in his hand tapping it on the table. "I want to hear it once. Just once out of your mouth that I'm right."

Me-:"I can't. It means too much to me to say it's someone who will never be my guy. Sorry can't."

Then my right shoulder and hip, and ear started to itch.  Walsh was on the floor laughing so hard he ran out of breath. He wouldn't shut up for almost ten minutes after that.

The Girl Who Married A Ghost

When I was little, I had this massive book of old fairy tales.  One of my favourites; The Girl Who Married A  Ghost,  had two different versions.

In the first version, the girl is a very greedy girl who marries a prince. She's taken then to live with the prince and his people in what turns out to be a small island in the middle of nowhere. Everything is fine at first, then the couple go to bed, the wedding party drunkenly asleep on the floor beside them. When she wakes up, she finds herself surrounded by skeletons and piles of bones. Fleeing, she ends up on the beach with nothing but broken rowboats around her. As the sun goes down, her husband and a few of his brothers come to find her. He's angry because according to him, his bride nearly broke his neck when she ran from the bed and stepped on one of his brothers, breaking his ribs. She is forced to stay with him, sleeping in the day and only being up at night when everyone is normal. Soon, they have a baby and on their visit back to her village to see her family, her mother who is told not to touch the baby's dipper, touches the baby's dipper. To the mother's horror, the baby is only human from the chest up and totally skeleton the rest of him. The bride then has to return to the island with her husband never to see her mother or family again.

The moral being not to be greedy and to look before you leap.

The second version had the girl written as being very plain. Which, is a nicer supposed way of saying ugly. And she's at a ball, where the prince is unhappy with most of the pretty girls. He comes to the plain girl, and while talking to her, is enchanted by her honesty. Picking her, he tells her that if they are to marry, she would be unable to see her family for a full year. She agrees, simply happy to have someone willing to marry her. Here the story is pretty much the same as the other version, she goes to the island and wakes to find herself stranded with the skeletons and broken boats. The prince tells her at nightfall that if they live together for a year, she will help to break a curse. She ends up having a baby, and they decide to visit her family. Again like the other version, she tells her mother not to unwrap the baby from his blankets/dippers. The mother doesn't listen, and when she discovers the skeleton baby, the girl freaks out, informing her mother that she's ruined their chances of  breaking the curse. She then leaves and can never return to her village.

The moral being to have faith, and keep your promises.

I can't remember where the two versions of the stories originated from. But I find it strange that they were as similar as they were, without being completely identical.   This story always to me, seemed like a vampire story, which is one of the main reasons I was drawn to it as a kid.

I was babysitting, and stuck watching Disney cartoons earlier during the week, and it made me think about how sanitary all the fairy tales have become.  Stories that were originally told to keep people from doing harm, from living anything other then an honest and decent life, have become sugary sweet stories put to music.
The Girl Who Married A Ghost, has a lot in common with the traditional Beauty and the Beast story. Which could be another reason I always felt drawn to it.