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Shapeshifter

Watch how this raccoon transforms – if only for a moment – at the end of the clip as he makes his escape with hands full of pilfered cat food.

It’s like he’s suddenly for a surreal moment a small man running in a fur suit.

So much fun, seeing where fairy tales come from!

Way Up On A Hill

I’ve been living in my new digs on Mount Tabor for about two and a half weeks, now.

I am such a nerdy nerd! These ground-level/basement rooms feel so very much like a hobbit hole – I have my own ground-level front door, lovely thick carpets on the floor and an antique wood stove while my little space burrows slowly and cozily back into the hill under the great pile of a house up above. It’s quite nice here. The view is spectacular and my new housemates are delightful.

But I must admit to feeling homesick for North Portland. No doubt these surrounds will grow on me with time. But currently I feel a bit like I’ve moved to the edge of the world way up here on the old cinder cone… everything feels so far away and watch your step or you might just fall off!

A young member of the devil-class once mused…
“What’s with all these holy men we read about in all the old books, eschewing shoe shops in all their bare-naked foot-washing abandon? Probably just a means to root out the hornier ones amongst them; keep their lascivious pokers out in the open, out of their tight little holy places. Nowadays seems it’s a means to maybe save all the sweet young holies for themselves, rather… Save all their bare-naked soles by delivering them from their innocence with lashings of holy excrescence. I mean, just look at the news these days if’n you don’t believe me!”
He then told me how his grandfather had come home once, all undone and in a huff, betrayed by his lack of sartorial guile and human feet. “All it takes boy is just one hoof… just a single hoof in plain sight.”
Such a fate was not for this clever one, though. Being a more modern, forward-thinking sort of devil and hip to all the latest trends & fashions in footwear he thought to conceal all of his churlish character within a small, hoof-like nail on a single toe of his left foot.
Perhaps the moral of all this is to say something about the modern mind — praise it condemn it as you may — everyone so concerned and pre-occupied with the devilish retail wrappings and conditions of one another’s feet.

Riding the Office Nightmare

almost everyone was quitting at the last office job I had

only clueless principles & four hapless newbies were left

Even I — ever ambivalent about doing this sort of work — had found another job at a software research facility on a University campus

spent the final day getting the transition done with everyone leaving

I worked longer (for why? I kept asking myself) to make sure that all the transition went smoothly at Monsoon

finally left the office to go for my first day (late) at my new job

got to the campus, but wasn’t certain where the job site was

ended up figuring it was on the other side of campus (enormous institution)

walked up a long flight of wooden deck stairs to an apartment block door… to ask for directions

at the top; at the door; I met a polar bear, waiting at the door

I shouted out “hey, buddy” so as not to frighten him — felt a few moments of apprehension, trying to stay calm telling myself that he must be tame if he’s wandering about campus

the polar bear turned and loped down the stairs and past me, saying as he passed, “wow.. are you a cute one”

continued up to the door… a large white fluffy cat was sitting on the doorknob — but he would not speak when spoken to… just took off into some bushes on the right of the door when I got close

knocked… door was answered by an academic looking woman — friendly and helpful; told me where to go & she offered to drive

from somewhere a 20-ish man came too — they both seemed to like me very much & invited me to stay with them if need be

occurs to me now there may have been a sexual interest with them both

they dropped my at the main campus square (at my request)… got out of the car & the dream fades…

and I remember the land it had no sun

though there was always light — a dark and dusky twilight

Back In The Saddle

Time to fire this blog back up. It’s been a while and a lot has changed on my end… And continues to change, no doubt. You can never step in the same river twice, and so on.

Just Stare At It

It’s amazing to me, this thing called “writing something.”

Most of the time all it takes is making yourself stare at it long enough and non-judgementally enough… relaxing into not knowing what the hell you’re going to write next… and suddenly you look back again and it’s almost written itself.

For me, anyway, the most difficult part is making myself sit still long enough for the words to come through.

Hurry Up

I sit and I second-guess myself all too often. I’ve said very little to anyone about my Elevenbridge project out of an almost superstitious fear of letting the cat out of the bag, and thus losing the magic before it happens. But it might be too, a simple self-defense mechanism. Because ever since I posted my confession about writing the novel, all I can hear is this little voice wondering if what I have is interesting enough; good enough… as interesting as I think it is?

Of the few people I have revealed much of this project to, all have been rather more appreciative than I expected. So what am I worrying about?

I’ve got to get over this and out of my own way. I’ve got some prose polishing left to do on the first few chapters… but I should push myself to get these out sooner than later.

First week in April for the first three chapters? It’s worth a try!

What Am I Waiting For?

So I am writing a novel. The first of many potentially.

My story idea is huge. In order to hear about it, “you have to sit down,” according to my friend Jeffrey. It’s taking longer than I expected. But then, so does all writing no matter what it is, especially if you give a damn about it.

And that’s what this is all about. I have spent almost the entire last 15 years working my ass off to turn a thankless few into millionaires…  I have finally asked myself, “how much better might I do if I write stuff that matters to me. Stuff that I care about? Stuff that I might want to read?”

And I have finally tasked myself with getting some such stuff out there; some of the ideas I’ve been knocking around on bus rides and less-than-exhausted evenings after work for the past all-too-many years.

I’m betting most everything that things work out better this way.

I call the project Elevenbridge. I have a nascent blog up for it. I hope to start publishing the primary storyline in parts via the Kindle store, B&N & other places. Smaller pieces of interest will appear sporadically on the Elevenbridge blog.

The first part of the story begins in Portland, and ends somewhere else.

Stay tuned.

Hearth

Crackle
tongues of fire,
Lonesome howl
of trains
passing
long
Past midnight

Approach of Dawn
Still hours
… Still hours
Away

Runey Moon

Where cats walk tall with human stature
Amidst a night of fitful sleep
Casting shadows in the dark
Shadows they cannot follow
Under the light of day

When unwanted wights work
To bust down your front door—
Unscrew the bolts of your dreams—
It’s then you should shout
The unexpected shout,
Drive the bolts home again
Seal the passage shut

When the moon’s going round
Inspires story-thoughts
Of reflections of reflections…

And that single silver face
Endlessly obsessed
with its own wax-waning
distant running shadow
Floats, turning ever inward
Brightening then darkening
Pushing and pulling upon the seas
Upon the sanguine pools below
Eclipse in motion
Churning oceans
Boiling blood & sowing strife
Inspiring lust, brewing life.

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