2017

Hello dear reader(s)!

Well, what the fuck can I say?  This has been a year.

I have no idea what kind of year, other than a really fucking eventful one that somewhat resembles a rapid cycling bipolar demon on meth.

Anyway, I am having trouble deciding how I will remember this year.  On the one hand, I met my love, who I am certain I was literally destined to be with, and on the other…. our country fell to fascism.

My health has both improved and regressed.

I have become both more generous and selfish with who I am generous to.

Up and down, up and down, up and down.  It’s like we are all getting roughly fucked by this year to the point where at times, it hurts too much to enjoy it.

2017 has been about rediscovering me, what matters to me, and being me without apology.  In that rediscovery, I feel I have grown.

My lovely fiance, has been the driving force behind much of that growth.  She saw me, and loves me, and so she is helping me be much more me.  With her, I feel better about myself (with the exception of my health), than I ever have.  Her love of those aspects of me I was always a little ashamed of or feared judgment about have greatly improved my self-opinion.  I hope I have helped her grow as well, as I see and love all sides of her, hidden or not, light or dark.

The biggest thing that I have learned this year, is that I just don’t belong.  I belong with my fiance.  I belong with some family.   I belong with a chosen small group of friends.  I belong with the few like-minded people who have no taste for the fucked-up way our society works.  Trump’s election, while a catastrophe, did serve to cause me to stop trying to fit in with so many people in this goddamn backwards country and only bother trying to hold or maintain relationships with those who I consider my tribe.  Us weirdos, who are only weird because we don’t choose to so willingly conform to the expectations of a failing society.

I am getting better at brushing off the negativity of those who still believe that misogyny and racism make a geographic region great.   I am getting better at ignoring the notion that people are successful if they drive a certain car or make a certain figure at the job they work in order to support the family that they lose connection to while working too much to provide for that family.  I am getting better at rejecting the advice of people who never really seemed as happy as I have been, or who have no idea what I have been through, or have been actively responsible for the terrible life choices I have been presented with.

In 2017 I realize that anyone who has an issue with me, has never walked in my shoes.  And when I think of how fucked up they are, despite their advantages, their lack of catastrophic illness, and not having to face even one-tenth of what I have faced but still feeling like maybe I have my shit better together than they do in what actually matters to me, well, 2017 is the year that says I am glad they have issues with me, because I have issues anyone who thinks they have some clue how I should behave.

It occurs to me, that I never wanted the life that was taken from me anyway.  I never wanted that 40 hour a week office job that created nothing but profits for a behemoth conglomerate exploiting my labor so that I can stress myself to a heart attack while missing out on life.  I never wanted that plan that was predetermined for me.  Maybe I knew somehow, that it wouldn’t be possible anyway.  But more likely, I knew I was never cut out for a life resembling most people, because from an early age I knew most people were fucking miserable.

My biggest regret is ever being swayed away from myself in the first place.  I only ever wanted a creative life since I was young.  But my generation was pushed so damn hard into academic, paper-pushing jobs that were all downsized while we were in school anyway.  Now that I am disabled, somehow getting lucky from selling some creative work is the only chance I have to really generate any wealth that is available to me.  And given that people who work for other people haven’t really been able to generate their own wealth in decades without property gambling… it seems as though more creativity is  also the only chance for many others who aren’t physically unable to hold a “normal” job.  The problem is, if I had been able to devote more time and effort to creative pursuits than to the useless paper chase that was school, that long-shot chance of getting lucky selling something creative would be much less long.  I must admit, I am still deeply resentful that I was purposefully steered toward a life that could only bring mediocrity in the best of circumstances.

I shouldn’t have listened.  I never should have conformed to what others wanted from me.  I wish it didn’t take me so long to realize that.  2017 is not the year that I should have figured out that I can’t stand the thought of being anyone but me.  Oh well, better late than never.

I am excited for 2018.  I am ready to live next year with both middle fingers extended to those who try to tell me how to live it.

Featured Image by By Dan Bennett from Seattle, USA (DSC_2046 Uploaded by X-Weinzar) [CC BY 2.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0)%5D, via Wikimedia Commons

 

 

 

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The Day After Yesterday

It was 19:06 when the author began writing his post in this here blog-type-thing.  A cool, autumn breeze blew past his window, but he didn’t really care, since it was closed.  Despite that, the fact it was not shitty, hot, stupid fucking summer was evident even inside his house.

The author reflected on the events that happened to him, just the day before.  He reflected on the special breakfast, the good wishes, the special dinner, the gifts, and of course, the traditional Dia de Los Josh, pumpkin pie.  For a moment, he smiled.

The smile quickly faded as he remembered the horrors that also happened on that day.  The screams of the post-Halloween jack-o-lanterns still echoed in his ears.  Then the images.  Pumpkin guts everywhere.  Orange all over.  Seeds, strings, and pumpkin meat littered the cardboard spread on the ground.  First a claymore, then a machete.  And his own hands yielding the weapons of the pumpkins’ demise!

He racked his brain, trying to figure out what had gotten into him.  Why did he kill those innocent jack-o-lanterns?  Why did he have to cut them into so many pieces?  And…why, why did he want to do it again?  What was the reason for his pumpkin blood lust?

Suddenly, he remembered.  It was Dia de Los Josh.

He knew that one day every year, it would come…and it did.  Yesterday.  And the day after yesterday, well…we all know what that is.  It is that which shall not be named, because it didn’t really like all of the names we had picked out for it.  I really liked Bob, but its grandparents objected.  Wait…

What?

Oh yeah.

Hello dear reader(s)!

So life is good right now.  I am getting settled in the new place, and things have finally calmed down from the move.  We had an amazing Halloween/Samhain with more trick-or-treaters than I knew existed on this particular planet.  We had some pretty kick-ass decorations, and it was a lot of fun.  Then yesterday, my birthday happened.  I got some great and thoughtful gifts, and yes, a traditional birthday pumpkin pie.  For fun, we took the six pumpkins we carved for Halloween and destroyed them with my claymore and machete.  We then had to clean up pumpkin, but it was Loreal.  Because it was worth it.

Today was just very chill, but with some running around.  Nothing too exciting, just a good find at a local shop.  But that was really nice, because I am a little sick of too exciting right now anyway.  Chill is good.  Tomorrow I am hoping I won’t even have to leave the fucking house.

Anyway, just checking in to say howdy.  Things are calming down, and though I do intend to really get working on my book, I plan to devote a lot of time to writing now, so I may just be able to get back into a regular posting routine complete with regular posts and routines at no additional cost to you!  But wait, that’s all!

 

Lughnasadh

Hello dear reader(s)!

As far as the Pagan Sabbats are concerned, Lughnasadh or Lammas to me is “Meh”.  Don’t get me wrong, I will still do a couple of things in order to celebrate it, but all the Sabbats for me are times to connect with nature or observe the changing of the seasons and to me, Litha and Lughnasadh feel roughly the same.  They’re both hot as fuck and around times where being outside for any major length of time will result in skin cancer or heat stroke.

It is the first of the harvest festivals, so fruit and grain are big on this day.  My love is baking some braided bread that looks amazing.  It is rising right now, but I am sure it will smell and taste even better.  I am looking forward to that.

This evening, when the sun goes down, I will try to get outside.

I belong to a local group that celebrates the Sabbats and they are having a celebration this evening, but I am pretty certain I will not be able to attend due to extreme gastrointestinal issues which will make me want to stay close to home wherein lies my magical porcelain throne which the seven kingdoms do not fight over.

I will feast tonight, because my love is an awesome cook.  Maybe I will light a fire in the evening (as this is a fire festival) or burn an effigy to release the negativity we carry.  Incense and candles will be burned (of course), and good times will be had.

But I am still kinda “Meh” on this one.  One of the problems with a nature-centric belief system is that sometimes, nature sucks.  You understand the necessity of it.  You are thankful for what is provided by it, but you don’t want to go outside and play in it.

“That’s great that the love between the Goddess and the God burned so hot it literally consumed him, but could they not get their passionate heat all over the rest of us?  I don’t want to be consumed too!”

If you want to get really technical, this celebration should have happened yesterday after sunset since that is when the day began for the Celtic pagans, but fuck technicalities.  I do what I want.  Besides, if you get in to those kind of technicalities, you probably actually want to celebrate on the closest full moon.  My path allows me to mark days on a regular calendar, thank you very much.

Perhaps if my stomach feels any better later, I will let my Goddess consume me, if y’all know what I’m sayin’.   😉

Happy Lughnasadh, everyone!  May it be more than “Meh” for you!

 

 

 

 

MyFridayBlog is Independent

Hello dear reader(s)!

Here in the good ol’ US of A, it is Independence Day.  On this day, we decided to leave the UK which was maybe a good idea given Brexit and the Tories, but we fucked it up by electing Trump.  I guess dying by losing healthcare is better than being burned alive in a fucking tower, though.

Anyway, I’m not really celebrating ‘Merca today.  What’s to celebrate?  We are being fucking assholes.

So, I’m finally feeling like I can start being back at this shit again a little more regularly.  I am sorry for the false starts, reduced schedules which I couldn’t keep to, etc, etc…

A lot of shit has happened recently, that left me in no position to be able to post.  They include, but are not limited to…

  • 2 recent moves  1 long distance, 1 across town that was sudden and unexpected.
  • Falling deeply in love  When you start trying to spend all your time with someone, it doesn’t leave much time for blog-type-thinging.  I am still deeply in love, only now I can blog-type-thing while still spending time with my beloved.
  • A multi-day hospitalization  Severe sepsis is what they called it, although I think it was only a mild bacteremia.
  • Outpatient infusions  Having to get IV antibiotics through a PICC line for days after my hospital release due to the bacteremia/sepsis.
  • Dealing with an SSDI review  That likely will not take my most recent hospitalization into account.  Good times.
  • Worrying about the vast majority of my town being on fire  Okay, that is more recent, but still…  Meanwhile, in the area of a fire yesterday that has burned over 13,500 acres, dumbfucks are still lighting off illegal fireworks.  ‘Merca.
  • Enjoying delicious scones  Well, they are good, and do take time away.  Right now I am enjoying a delicious vanilla scone with a lime glaze, courtesy of my love.
  • Freaking out about the lack of “humanity” among humans especially those idiots who think that being patriotic is waving a piece of cloth made in another country for profit as the very ideals that piece of cloth are supposed to represent are no longer important to them 

Anyway, despite my definite decision not to celebrate this day of nationalism and false superiority, I will be barbecuing later today.  Not with anyone but those close to me, and not for Independence Day but just because it is going to be hot, everyone else will be barbecuing which will lead to barbecue aroma envy, and I like to barbecue.

We will be making uncured nitrate and nitrite free dogs, with potato salad.  I am rather excited by this development and might live-stream the whole event on my FUCKLIVESTREAMING account if I feel there is enough interest.

So, long story slightly less long and candy coated for your enjoyment, I am back, bitches!  (I understand “bitches” may be offensive to some, but that is okay, because you can call me a bitch and I won’t care, and if a certain someone were to in the correct context, I might actually enjoy it, or I might not, but that is none of your business, is it?)

I look forward to reestablishing myself as a regular post-type-thinger and reader, and you should too, because I said so and you have not fought a revolution against me to get out from under my rule.

Happy Day, everyone!

 

 

Sex And Magick

Hello dear reader(s)!

Let’s start with a warning for those who freak out of over the concept of sex…

WARNING:  This post talks about sex baby.  It talks about you and me.  It talks about all the good things and the bad things that can be.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  It talks about sex.  

That’s protected by parody laws, FYI.

If you’ve been reading this here blog-type-thing for any amount of time, I feel very bad for you.  But that’s not the point here.  If you have been reading this here blog-type-thing for any amount of time, you know that I am someone who is proudly sex-positive.

Being sex-positive, I view sex positively.  It’s right there in the words.  You’d know that if you paid attention in class.  I think nothing is inherently wrong between consenting adults with full knowledge of everything involved.

What is really cool (besides me), is that in my spiritual path, sex is viewed positively.  In fact, Beltaine is coming.  And Beltaine, is a very sexual Sabbat.  Sure it is the halfway point of the year, but in marking the changes that are taking place at that time, sex is certainly a huge a part of it all.  The bees are pollinating.  Taking away the flowers by taking their pollen and fertilizing the plants that will bear fruit.  If that doesn’t bring sex to mind, then you are a far cleaner thinker than I and I feel bad for your partner(s).

In my path, you can even practice magick using sex, called…wait for it, sex magick.  (I know, right?  Who would’ve thought magick during sex would be called sex magick?  That’s just totally unrelated!)  Anyway, I am not going to go into the practice of sex magick.  I am not an instruction manual, unless someone specific wanted a lesson, and called me “teacher”.  Maybe just showed up one day, like today.  And said, “Teacher, can you teach me sex magick, pleeeeeease?”  Maybe then.  Maybe.  If she was lucky.

But you don’t have to practice sex magick or be pagan to know sex is a kind of magic in and of itself.   (Notice the change to just magic, without the K.  That was intentional.  See, things can be magical but not magick.  It’s an interesting distinction.  Like a square is always a rectangle, but a rectangle isn’t always square.  I am getting off topic here.  Shapes get me all worked up.  Mmmm.  Quadrilaterals…..)

Sex bonds most people.  (Better than duct tape, even.)  It can keep connections strong.  It can allow people to feel safe and comfortable.  It can allow people to explore what is inside of themselves.  (How did that get in there?!?!)  It can lead to a deeper understanding of your partner(s) and yourself.  (Nice and deep…)  It can be an outlet for your deepest emotions and desires.  (Butter pecan ice cream?!?)

And sex can hurt.  If used improperly, it is capable of great harm.  Sex is powerful, and must be treated with respect.  “With great power, comes great responsibility.” – The rice guy.

Anything so powerful is magical.

In witchcraft, the acts you do, the spells you do, matter far less to the determination of whether it is light or dark magick than your intent.   (Which isn’t to say that anything you do in the name of magick is acceptable.  Like, no playing Nickelback during a spell or something equally horrific like live sacrifice.)

The same could be said for sex.  The acts, while they can be wonderful, (very, very wonderful, if you’re with me, baby…), matter far less than your intent.

You don’t have to be a follower of my path or a believer in magic to know that sex is powerful.  Even if you are a member of a more puritanical system of beliefs, you know that much of trying to control sex is based on the power it can have over someone.  Or the power it can give them.

But it’s my opinion that there is nothing wrong with power if you use it properly.  Whether it is magical power, sexual power, political power (can we please get someone to use that properly?), or any other kind of power.

Taking power over our lives, our bodies, and our desires is our right.  It can lift us up and remind us that we are feeling, passionate human beings.  It can remind us of what is within us that makes up a huge part of who we are.  It can also make us feel really fucking good.

For as much as sex is shied away from in our society, it is important to remember that we are only here because of the magic of sex.  Just because the sex you have isn’t intended to reproduce, it is not accident that in the right combination it is literally why we are here.  Fortunately, not every type of sex or every sex act is intended to cause reproduction.  The world is overpopulated enough as it is, and not everyone is intended to reproduce.  That is magic.

Straight sex, gay sex, self sex, monogamous sex, poly sex… if it is something between consenting adults who are fully aware of the factors at play, you are feeling the magic.  (If you are not totally selfish, your partner(s) is/are too.)  If your intentions are good, rough sex, vanilla sex, whatever you like, is good, positive magic and you should be proud to be living a magical life.

I hope this season is very magical for all of you.   😉

I leave you with a little mood music.

Featured Image By Yoninah – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=10216975

Ostara Greetings

Hello dear reader(s)!

Blessed Ostara!  Or Happy Spring Equinox!  Or Happy Vernal Equinox, for those of you Vern worshipers.

I’ve decided that I need a Stonehenge.  I think it would a be a really great addition to my local community and I believe it should be installed post-haste.  I would like to see it up on a hill, surrounded by fields.  And none of this half-crumbling shit either.  I think it should be constructed as originally intended.  And I could charge a fee for entry to anyone who wanted to see it except on the equinoxes and solstices when it would be free to all who wish to bask in the glory of the light of the sunrise as it aligns with the structures.

Maybe I should start a Kickstarter.

Tonight I have an Ostara celebration to attend.  I am rather excited, except my post-nasal drip is still bothering me.  It needs to stop, post-haste.

Like the other equinox (that which shall not be named, today anyway, because it isn’t all about that one), today is a day for balance.  That is a good thing, because my post-nasal drip has really fucked up my equilibrium so I can use all the balance I can get.  I do not intend to drink tonight as it would be hard enough to balance during a field sobriety test stone-sober (although being stoned, isn’t exactly sober, so I really don’t get that term).  I shall not be stoned either, unless I got some bad Sudafed.

I intend to do a spell to increase the power of the Sudafed that I shall take so I am hopefully not coughing or spewing mucus all over the new people I meet.  “Blessed (cough!  hack!) Ostara!!!”  {Extends slimy hand outward for people to look at disgustedly before running away.}

The festivities are potluck style, so I need to bring something.  I was thinking deviled eggs, as eggs are traditional to the whole fertility, rebirth aspect of this particular festivity, but deviled eggs are a pain in the ass and need to be kept cool in order not to give everyone Ostaritis, an Ostara specific food poisoning.  I may just do some phallic shaped bread (easy enough, most bread loaves are cock-shaped) and like an artichoke dip or something else low maintenance.

Today is expected to be the last good weather day here for a while.  In fact, this evening, it should rain.  I can live with that.  As long as it doesn’t snow, I will be a happy camper, only I am not camping anywhere.

Today is a good day to grow your intentions, just as a farmer would be growing crops to harvest later.  I need to think about what mine are.  I know a few, but I really need to make them more concrete, as this cement alone is just too weak.  Besides, having an intention like, “I intend to make that woman cum more times that she ever thought possible.” is great and all, just probably not the most beneficial intention to have for my life.

I actually do have a few real goals.  Real goals I am progressing toward despite my post-nasal drip.  I must take those goals and the momentum made toward them and transform them into Autobots.  I must take those goals and combine them to determine what they mean for an overall intention of how I want to live the remaining time I have here in this life.  I must prevent them from transforming into Decepticons.

I need to get up and shower, so I can go get the food.  I need to take Sudafed, so I can make it through the shower.  I need to end this post-nasal drip post-haste, and make it a no-nasal drip.  I need to stop saying things like post-haste.  There, those are my intentions.  That shit was easy.

Blessed Ostara one and all, and to all, a good day or night.  Or both.  You know what?  How about a good as long as you want it to be good?  Why not?  Why should I be stingy with my good wishes?  What are we teaching the children?!?!

 

 

 

Saint Day of Paddy’s

Hello dear reader(s)!

Today is Saint Patrick’s Day.  I don’t celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day.  Why would I celebrate someone who made Ireland into a theocracy where nuns threw babies into septic tanks rather than acknowledge that woman might fuck when they’re not married and those babies aren’t evil?  Why celebrate that Ireland getting Christianity caused women’s rights to be stomped on for decades?

I love Ireland, don’t get me wrong.  I think it is beautiful.  I think the people there are pretty awesome.  I love how they voted to legalize same-sex marriage over fierce opposition from the church.  I love the many Irish accents.  I love the traditional Irish music.  I love the beer, and some of the food.  I love the language.  I love all of the history and all of the Celtic and Gaelic influence.

And this is where Saint Patrick actually is a problem for me.  He drove the snakes out of Ireland.  The snakes were not actual snakes.  The snakes were a metaphor for the Pagans.  The Celtic and Gaelic influence that Ireland still hangs onto was Pagan.  As a Pagan, why should I celebrate that?

So I don’t.

But like Christians celebrating a combination of Yule and Saturnalia, and calling it Christmas, I am going to celebrate on the day for my own reasons.  I don’t celebrate Saint Patrick’s Day, the solemn religious holiday that used to be dry until Ireland realized that they could make a serious amount of tourist dollars by allowing the kind of drunken partying that used to only happen in the US, I celebrate St. Paddy’s Day.  St. Paddy’s Day, while, yes could be short for Saint Patrick’s Day, isn’t to me.  Instead, it is a celebration of Irish culture, art, and a time to eat, drink, and be merry.

Plus, I get to wear my cool green stuff.

Saint Patrick actually was known for a light blue color.  The wearing of green didn’t become popular until the movement for an Irish Republic began to take hold.  So wearing my green today, is not celebrating Saint Patrick, it is celebrating Éire (Ireland).  Éire, incidentally, comes from Ériu, which was the name of a Gaelic goddess, the matron goddess of Ireland, a goddess of the land.

I’m not Irish.  Well, I mean, I’m not Irish enough to call myself Irish.  I don’t think up to a quarter of my ethnicity being Irish really makes me Irish at all.  But I do know that I am absolutely fascinated by Ireland, and by all things Irish.  So, I am going to celebrate today, based on that and that alone.

Besides, we need more excuses to celebrate.

Just remind me not to overdo it.  Ostara is just days away.

Happy Dia De Los Santo de Paddy, everyone!