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misstree
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it's supposed to be there. i know it is. all these bits of aleatoric_concinnity are fantastic reinforcement, but it's the Rightness of it that has me.
i should explain. it might even be far far back in these pages... right, then, that i tell the story here.
seven years ago, i went through a rebirth... it involved meat and magic and chaos, and was the proper start of mine own Path.
seven years ago, i went out one night with a plastic lizard tucked in my bra. when i returned to the realm of my demon_lover and disrobed, the little fella was clinging to my breast. when i peeled him off, an imprint, and one of the very very *very* few times i saw that companion surprised. he demanded that i go look in a mirror, and bring back a sharpie.
there he was, my leetle leezard, curling to complement the one he rested on, and looking for all the world like he was meant to be there. while a million things have passed from mind, that one image has stayed.
for seven years, i've carried this around, knowing that when it was supposed to happen, it would. because of the nature of the time and the image, i've known it was to be done with blade rather than needle, which complicates things. i've made many attempts, knowing that such things don't just drop into laps, but never come very close.
so lately i've been going through a lot of weird progressions. portland is a lovely place full of bizarre and brilliant people, and being in such fertile soil has blossomed me much, and having other souls as reference has allowed me much knowledge of the self... i am at a turn where i cannot but accept what and who and how i am, my blend of species and my way of doing things and the fire i can't keep quiet and the billion branches i can evolve along.
i am learning to own myself and own up to myself. one of the biggest labels in this fit of finding is "shaman". i buck and kick at any labels, and am most properly simply "mutt" in such arenas, but i cannot deny its accuracy, and only recently am coming to realize that i should not feel the need to, learning to not just accept but honor the particular lovely mishmosh i have made.
so back to the lizard.
so there was this show, a week ago exactly i believe. an amazing local theatrical suspension group and three finnish entertainers best described as blood_clowns... *sighs heavily* i suppose i should explain a bit of that, at the very least their part of the show. it's a bit of a modernization of geek tricks, with some of the old staples thrown in (beds of nails, blockhead and other things through sinuses), but a lot more of needles being shoved through tongues and throats, pony kegs being swung from cock_and_balls, things like that. that's the what, but it was the how that was impressive. there was this funness, this grin, this audience-grabbing charisma, mwah, bootiful.
i got to talk to the gents later, and got to ask one of them for tips with sinus tricks, spent a piece of time talking. then, lo and behold, i find out that he is lagging behind in portland to do body mod work, specifically cutting scarifications.
my hands were shaking as i wrote the letter of inquiry. i pored over every word, hoping he'd say yes, and hoping that somehow, somewhere, i'd go from having no money to having enough, and that he'd work for what i could get. he answered back, and in our phone conversation, he took a vague little description and elaborated on it in just the right way, knew without me saying what should be done.
there was communication back and forth, culminating with a coffee house meeting. the first comments between us there were about the weather, but quickly devolved into gleefully prattling on about the different ways the world might end. when we got to talking about mods, not only did he have a good knowledge of that one, but he gave me answers about an ear mod that had eluded everyone else i spoke to. this is the person that i want to do this, after seven long god damned years i found the artist.
and though i've been mystified until now why it's here, i realize now. knowing that i had to come up with the money, i started talking, asking the crows to carry the message, begging and bargaining with every spirit, deity, and concept i could lay hands on. it's what i do. i'm a shaman, god dammit. this leetle leezard, he's my diploma, my hancock on the dotted line. i'm going through the final tests right now, jumping down rabbit holes on an hourly basis, slowly getting more temporarily insane, trying to believe nothing but that this will happen, and 50 hours away and i still only have half the cash.
it'll happen, and i'll tell marvelous stories about how it hurt to get it done, but i discovered nine levels of hell with my first shower, and i will crow and crow and crow.
and in the meantime, i've finally blurted out the why, all in one breath, and that is another page in the test.
thankyou, tip your waitress.
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070423
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