Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

A Doll’s Life, in Song

August 13, 2011

A rather dark set of songs seem to be brewing in my mind. 
I may use them for a tabletop game, I may not.

Either way I write them they tell a dark tale, though one certainly trumps the other.

Option A:
The biblical creation story tells of the first alchemist, the tale of Eden being a chronicle of his successes in creation with Adam as his masterwork–a Golem, or Prometheus. 
Lilith is Adam’s attempt to transcend mere subservience and to create another in his image.
In creating a sentient life, he himself becomes truly alive, as even his creator could not make him.  In his rejoicing he alienates Lilith as she realizes he has cursed her to a cruel existence for his own selfish desires, and flees, swearing never to emulate him.
Eve is the second Golem made by Adam, this time under his “Father’s” supervision.  She is a simpler construct, made with less innate knowledge and a boundless curiousity.
….time passes, and the line of Golems continues, as the eldest child of Adam’s house passes on the curse–turning Cain’s tale even darker, the elder striking out in jealousy of the younger’s humanity.
The tale continues on to the modern day, and Lilith, or perhaps another of Adam’s children, wanders aimlessly about the Earth.

Option B:
Some time in the 1600s or so (possibly around the time of the Black Death), a watch or dollmaker in either Beijing or Vienna makes a childsize doll, and imbues it with life.  He then becomes human, and free of the curse the newborn child must now struggle under.  He soon succumbs to the plague, immune system weakened by the presence of the dainty lifesink.
The young Golem must now make their way in the world as best they can, learning as they go, and resolving never to inflict upon another the pain of this curse.

I’ve got songs percolating for botyh storylines, and will attempt to write/sing them out as best I can.

(This would be a) Love Story…

December 8, 2010

…But they both realized their mistakes too late, and were thrown into the river by a cat.

Sad Face is Sad (Part 2/?)

December 1, 2010

Once Upon a Time,
There was a mask.  It was a very sad mask, but every being who saw it could not help but smile, or even laugh.  The mask’s appearance was so chipper and droll that no one guessed how sad and unhappy it was, so the mask became angry.
No one noticed, for the mask looked exactly as it always had, and spoke to match–spritely and urbanely.

Eventually the Mask gave in to Despair, and cracked.

Lapins Leap for the Moon

May 3, 2010

How do you live when you believe you have died?
shattered?
broken apart?
been picked clean by the wind?

How can the rabbit like having known the hawk’s talons?
When a soul is stripped bare, how can it fare?

Is there an answer?
Can there be?
And how can one who has lived without hate, forgive the introducer of it.  When a being built for love and caring knows this sensation, how can they continue to exist?

They cannot.  Not as they are.
So when the dark talons grip them, they melt away, and die.
They cease to be, and can only flee
to the ends of the world and beyond
The place where the sidewalk ends and th Great Lion’s  land unfurls

Green, new. So very bright and healing.
And yet, how can one who feels tainted live in purity?

They must learn to forgive, if they cannot forget.
Love must be found where the wind calls and the woods shelter
In the longing song of the wolf  the lapin finds the answer

To forgive yourself, you must find something in you which may forgive your betrayer, the ender of the meadow-times when all bloomed brightly.

One cannot remain an innocent hare for ever, if they wish to swim to the rescue of those lost at sea.
To swim, one must understand more than oneself, one must listen deeply.
And perhaps, in the search for a way to reach those stranded upon the tides, the wounded rabbit might find echoes of healing within its frail frame.

Future-extemporanea

December 16, 2009

Just a non-sensical ramble as to the effect that, whensoever this should become visible to the eyes of a perceiving entity other than the author, said author will, mostly indubitably and probably should no outside extraneous occurence interfere, be rather occupied with brain-wracking thought extrusions with which the hope is to compel the reader of said extrusions into a favorable mental state.

Said state will hopefully result in pleasant tidings for the author, who will  then have one less thing clouding up the waters in the answering globule known as her 8-ball like noggin.

In other news, earrings make excellent ornaments for any solstice tree of sufficient scale.

Brain Cloudy, Try Again Later

December 15, 2009

Ever feel like you have so many trains of thought, or attempts at things to try to do going on in your head that you reach a stall-out point, like an over-shaken 8-ball?

I do.

Blah blah blah

December 11, 2009

I love reading, but sometimes it feels like I’m drowning out my own thoughts.

It can take awhile for stories and songs to reemerge from the mess in my head after taking in an engrossing story. But it’s so fun to read the tales, to wander the pages, forgetting yourself in the images and words therein.
Hopefully I’ll eventually find a balance for this, or it’s going to be awfully hard to do as I wish with this blog project as well as others.

Also, I need to get the hang of setting up posts ahead of time. Because when inspiration hits, I’m ridiculously prolific. Other times I’m simply rambly and a bit non-sensical, or even whiny.

Unsure.

Ah well.
I’ll hope for a tale to tell tonight or tomorrow.
In the meantime, enjoy the clear skies that have appeared after the storm.

Hindsight… gorammit

December 4, 2009

I began this project meaning to post something interesting and different every day.
I think this goal of mine may have been naive, given my personal difficulties with deadlines and writing in general, but it is still worthwhile to strive for.

I wish to become a capable writer, able to release the words and stories in my mind easily and smoothly. I want to tell tales I’ve heard and made my own, and ones that so far as I know spring from the depths of my consciousness. To enable myself to write takes a mental state not unlike what I personally relate to ‘Zen’ or the calm I feel in certain places. When I become still, the roiling waters silent and glassy, then every word rings out strong and true, flowing past my anxiety and nerves as though they had never been.

To this end I’ll continue walking this path I’ve begun. I apologize for missing a day, to myself, and to anyone who may wish to read this eccentric project. I believe that I shall have to do some planning ahead, to allow for days when my mind is too much taken with daily activities or people.

Wish me luck?