Gwenhwyfar lived to be old, Elaine did not…

…and the girls we once were float down the River to time and go under. Drowned, we all assume.

But then again…lots of unexplained, feminine looking, sword brandishing hands emerging from the misty waters in these stories…had to have come from somewhere, originally…it’s not as though they ever found the bodies…dead is not always so very dead in faery tales…

Strange dreams and disrupted R.E.M. Sleep as a direct result of bizarre Jungian reading material…

Found a copy of a book I read when I was 17 or thereabouts. I remember the gist of it, but none of the actual story.

Forgot what an esoteric MythoLiterary Geek I used to be…

I asked for an Oxford Unabridged dictionary for Christmas when I was 15 and improvised a TV Tray podium for it and the purloined single volume patent leather bound Complete Works of Shakespeare that I had snuck off the family reference shelf to read for fun in moments of idle brooding.

I used to keep a photocopied black and white portrait of Percy Shelley in my notebook the way most teenage girls pin up bubblegum idols. Ask Lizzie. Lizzie was way more Lord Byron. Coincidentally, or maybe notsomuch, Bowie around that time did a short film for the “Blue Jean” extended video in which he played a character called “Screaming Lord Byron.”

The fish ate Shelley’s face. That’s how he died, or rather he drowned in Italy, but by the time they found his body the fish had eaten his face. It seemed important to us at the time, but of course by then he’d have been long dead anyway…

Nine And A Half Hour Dream…

Dreamt my mother called me at an odd hour. I jokingly asked who’d died,but
she didn’t laugh. I know it wasn’t my father, because I could hear him in
the background. Then I dreamt Mike called me up and reamed me out and
swore at me (at least I HOPE it was a dream) at about 4:15 am and then
that I was in a hospital parking lot trying to get child leukemia patients
back to their rooms. Before that, I think I dreamt something about setting
up a new laptop in my new apartment, which was part of a large house with
an attic and a school downstairs.Also, there was something about renting
movies at Casa and watching them around a campfire in the desert, with the
movies being projected onto the side of a boulder. That part was kind of
cool. Woke up just as disconnected and dissociated and lonely and sad and
aware of my poverty as ever, but with a lingering sense of calm and
eventual comfort. Things may suck beyond all reason right now, but someday
they’ll be better, unless I die and if I die it’s not like I’ll be around
to complain, right? Still haven’t heard back on the part time “job offer”
I interviewed about last week. I may call back about that today. If they
don’t want me, they don’t want me, but if they’re on the fence about it at
all, well…I could definitely use the money and no one seems to have any
convincing objections to it, so…

Even Japanese mythology is bizarre…

Once upon a time there was a monk who was in service to a high priest. He

was married and had children.

One summer day, this man accompanied his master to Mii temple. It was a hot

day and he was sleepy so he took a nap in a hidden corner in the hall of the

temple. He had a dream and in his dream he was visited by a beautiful woman.

They made love in the dream and the sensation was so vivid and intense that

he climaxed in ecstasy.

When he awoke he found a large snake laying by his side. His own clothes

were wet with his ejaculation but he was astonished to see the snake lying

dead with its mouth wide open. He was even more shocked to see his semen in

the mouth of the snake. He had been making love with this snake in his dream

and the snake had choked and died afterwards.

The man was afraid and secretly washed himself. He wanted to tell others of

the strange thing that had happened to him, but refrained for fear of

damaging his reputation. He became sick for a while, but nothing else came

of it.

Be careful where you sleep, if others are not around!

Moonpoem #2

My moonlight was weightless

it bore me aloft

knew my sadness before it had a name

left me sleepless and awaiting answers

from one who slept days away in paralell madness

Lunacy is the goddess’ kiss

her mark upon your brow

alien and strange

She brings you words you must be rid of

and dreams you cannot shake

and showers you in broken glass

as you drift back into oblivion

And if I am an ocean wave poised to drown you…step back and listen for my voice in seashells…