Fortress of Solitude


Hah! Well, sideways it is.  It makes sense to me.

Writing is for suckers seeking succor.

Speaking of things that have become unfathomable, Christmas is almost here.  I don

Right now, all I can really offer is a look ahead.  Right now, nothing I’m doing or thinking or being or eating is really anything that is worth permanent documentation.  This is the inside of a fugue.  Around me things are flying, smashing, rising up and being thrown into a pasture fifty miles down the road, but I am aware of a calm and a quiet that is rotating around me, keeping the exact nature of the disaster outside at bay.

I have finished my game.  I plan in a few moments to start it again.

Because I would not stop for life, I hope it will kindly stop for me for Christmastime.

Um, news…

Soon as I can get my aunt to agree the date will work, I have us set to go and visit the psychic.  I’d mentioned it two or three times and each time she earnestly said she would like to go, so I’ve gone ahead and done it.  An hour for each of us.  I am going to the same psychic, even though I had something of a weird incident happen the last time – nothing to do with the actual content of the reading or experience which was intense, but positive – but afterwards, I sat in the bathtub in the dark for an hour and sort of left my body.  Now, all of this is not to say that I believe in psychics.  Despite having them in the family and having, more likely than not, some intuitive capabilities myself when I don’t pack them in lye and bury them in dry ice, and despite having a deep love for many occult “pathways” such as ouija boards, palm-reading, tarot reading, bibliomancy, and dream interpretation.  I believe that I need to believe for me to get anything out of it and I can go that far out on the limb. But what it really is about is someone sitting down with you and just giving you feedback on you.  Not on your work, or what you’re wearing, or what you should be investing your IRA in…but you, and what you need, and not asking for you to push energy back at them and ask them how they are.  It sounds extravagantly selfish, and I think in most ways it is, all except this…when you feel unheard and stuck and liminal and unseen even while standing in some of the busiest places in the world…having someone remark on ways in which you are trying to do better and remind you of a version of yourself that feels right, if forgotten, having someone say that it’s time to put everything back on the table because we’re here to help one another…that can heal so much.  Just the words, just the intention, just the being seen.  So we go, I hope, this Saturday to hear what will be said.

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