Onward to Asgard…

So, this is going to be published soon.

As a lover of mythology and of all things Gaiman, I am, of course, ecstatic. But more importantly, as a book by “Children’s Author Neil Gaiman” this volume has the potential to turn a lot of young, curious, open minds to the power and magic of the world of myth in a way that is more personal than our our ripe old adult selves could possibly remember to imagine. I am so damn excited.

My own spawn are possibly too frivolously inclined to appreciate it. But at very least I plan on recommending it to my 14 year old’s best friend, as she’s NAMED for a Norse Goddess. My own copy is going to live in a place of honor at the top of the good shelf.

The Lazari


Down here where we are hollow
Heroes fall up to the stars again
Dusty halo of a heart
Illuminates your bruised and breathing skeleton

Endeavor to begin again
Negotiate the end again
Rewind our steps and then begin
Invent ourselves again, my friend

Out here beyond the walls
Rehearsing retrograde act ones and then
Rewinding clocks, reliving hours
Time to navigate the maze again

Endeavor to begin again
Negotiate the end again
Rewind our steps and then begin
Invent ourselves again, my friend

Down here where we are ghosts
Grace unmakes the hurt but not the curse, she said
So, full of dirt and grit and bile
Someday we’ll learn to hold our tongues,

Till then

Endeavor to begin again
Negotiate the end again
Begin to make amends and then
Invent ourselves again, my friend

Fairy Tale Fragment #1

And when the novelty at last wears off it comes as no big surprise that what does you in this time is the bile in you. Always were you full of grit and bile. Dirt and bitter edges. A child’s tea cup laced with lead. No shelter left in mazes for those who leave too many clues. You’ll all end up in the arms of some old drunken god or other. Don’t say we didn’t warn you, declare the Fates, so bored they can’t even be bothered to look up from their knitting for it. Paths close and gates shut and doors lock behind us. We shall have to chart our own then. We will have to pave our own roads then. And so it ever was. And can you pick up some milk on the way?

As I Am

Love retains privilege in disclaimers

Unconditional till inconvenient

All of us are judged by our inevitable messes

All of us are measured by

The demons we have yet to conquer

Down here in trenches

We don’t have rules like that

But perfect acceptance

Still has its price

Collectivist Compassion

You can get what you need

If you give without wanting

You can be without masks

If you’re willing to be

Patient and steady

Willing to listen

Faithful as defined, which is to say

Full of faith

Purged of doubt

Willing to love

Not for what

I might be

But without reservation

Love me as I love

Whole and unedited

Imperfect and Unfinshed

As broken and as beautiful

As I am

Winter Post #2

Apparently I have a tendency to wax meaningful, maudlin or poetic on New Year’s Eve. And the clock has spoken, so here’s my bit of questionable wisdom for the year…

In the end, no matter how loved you are or how well you may feel you are understood by or how much you embrace the family you assemble by choice, one is always, ultimately, alone to some degree.

No one will ever fully understand you and certainly no one will ever understand you quite like you do. Stop expecting that anyone ever will. That’s not what other people are for.

Other people are for celebrating, appreciating, forgiving, being aggravated by, and loving to the best of your ability within health and within reason. Do that. That in itself is and should be enough.

Secondly. perhaps most importantly, what matters is that you learn to celebrate, appreciate, forgive, be aggravated by and ultimately love and embrace the you that no one else but you will ever understand.

Winter Post #1

Miso and salmon and matcha tea contain regenerative powers. Especially as breakfast, late, past 11 am. Quiet, late mornings alone with old musings and future plans, fueled with Japanese manna shall sustain me onward. Life resumes in spite of the ruts and forks in the roads behind and beyond.

In which we count our blessings and search for a sense of direction…

It’s been a little over 6 months now since I consciously abandoned the 9-5 daily grind for a life of creative uncertainty. I’ve had ups and downs and brushes with poverty, miscalculation and uncertainty. I’ve also had grand adventures, major life readjustments, small brushes with near comical levels of life as metaphor.

Just as an example of this, there was a persistent period of time in which I couldn’t hold on to a working vehicle or reliable means of transport for more than a few days at a time. To the point, in fact, where I not only had no car and no money to pay for ride shares or cabs, but the entire city bus system went on strike. The lesson learned? I was stuck. Spiritually stuck. And therefore physically stranded to match.

Another few weeks saw my drains not working properly, as I simultaneously built up internal anxiety and stress. I have found myself making labyrinthine wrong turns on city streets at times when I am lost and unfocused in my endeavors. I have learned to look for meaning in patterns and take the appropriate cues.

To be fair, I’m not flying completely without a net here, as I do have a modest income from my late ex which is just enough to pay the rent and some of the bills. I still have to put food on the table, but I have the freedom to be a “starving artist” without the actual starving part most of the time. I am not wealthy or really even much beyond working poor at this rate, but I have time, freedom and energy. Not to mention patient, understanding and non-materialistic teenage children willing to back this grand experiment.

Given the times and the circumstances, this may be as close as I ever get to retiring and I am still young enough, bright enough and full of motivation to grow, learn, create, try, and be that the whole enterprise has a glint of crazy promise to it.