tinhuviel: (Kelat in Mourning)

Here we are at another Earth Day, and the Earth is in more danger now than it has ever been. War is widespread, the nuclear threat seems much greater than even during the Cold War, and protections to the environment are being rolled back by those who benefit from denying our detrimental effect on Earth. I don't wonder if we, as a species, will ever learn, or will ever collectively remember, how deeply important and vital it is to honour this living being that gives us life every day. No. I have no faith in humanity, which comes as no surprise to those who've known me for any length of time. But I remember, and there are pockets of our species who do, like the Lakota. So, they will speak for us on this, the darkest Earth Day I have ever witnessed.

Earth, Mother, and Grandmother, we are speaking to you, please listen to us! We know that we are all related. We are your children, we two-legged ones, just like the four-legged and winged ones are your children.




We are all related. We are their relations, and they are ours, all children of the same mother. If we are all related to you, mother, we must make peace. Why should your children fight like this? We are all related.





Help us to make peace with each other, lasting peace among relatives. Mother, Grandmother, Earth, may we walk lovingly and with mercy upon your paths. May we make peace with all our relations.

May we wise up before our latent destructiveness ends us and many innocent Earth children, our four-legged and winged relations.

tinhuviel: (Default)

There's tons more shit that bothers me, but here's a sampling. 

When someone here in San Diego says, "It's a beautiful day!" It's always a so-called beautiful day in San Diego. People lose their shit and flock to churches when theirs a steady rain! Okay, I might be exaggerating a little but, damn, they do act like it's the end of the world.
 

 

 



 

The dude who attends my therapy groups, who identifies as a "warror for Christ." I don't thinkhe's as extreme as the Army of God, but he coule well be in the Salvation Army.  That​ doesn't really matter. What matters is, he's manipulating group sessions to bear witness and passively shut down anyone who has a differing, non-xtian opinion. He declared yesterday that his relationship with Jesus Christ made all things better, and I wanted to ask him that, if Christ is helping him so much, why is he seeking assistence from psychiatric professionals? Should he not be right as fucking rain, a bright and shining example of our lord and saviours eternal mercy and love*?


*Please read terms and conditions regarding conditional forgiveness, retribution, and hellfire.
AWSAF cannot be held responsible for your lifelong emotional scars, you fucking sinner.

Hot flashes. I've been having them a lot lately and, last night, I got up for the bathroom, and a wet imprint where my body had lain was there, perfectly formed, on the sheet. My pillow was soaked. I'm actually battling dizziness from dehydrytion because I can't hydrate enough to accommodate the excess sweating. I'm not a sweater. I don't like to sweat. That is one thing I like about Southern California more than anywhere in the South - no humidity, and therefore, not nearly as much sweat. And if you do sweat there, it doesn't linger because the air is so wet, it has nowhere to go. No, in the California deserts, it evaporates quickly and coolingly.



Shamers. No one has any right to reprove anyone else for doing something they find unacceptable. It's none of your business, you fuddy-duddy! Even worse are the shamers of those doing something the shamers themselves used to do. Non-smokers make me want to set them on fire. And don't even get me started on former fat folks terrorising those who are still overweight.  How dare you? You know how hard it is, but you can find a smudge of spite your heart big enough to compel you to engage in a soul-scarring activity. Good for you! May it come back to you threefold, all in the form of fat.

Kids. Disrespectful, bullying, little walking Petri dishes that are often too loud, too smelly, and too ugly for proper public consumption. Their parents are even worse, especially if they feel entitled simply because they rutted and bred.

Whatever country I'm living in now. I don't think it proper to call it the United States of America, because we certainly aren't united on anything, and the state we're in is the State of Disarray. Whatever my fate, though, I refuse to go down without one hell of an 80s movie-style female Pagan Rambo fight!

 
tinhuviel: (Kelat in Mourning)


She changes everything She touches, and everything She touches, changes.

This afternoon and evening, I am burning an anointed blue candle to try to bring myself a little bit of peace of mind, as much as can be mustered. The dance of the flame, along with the muskiness of my incense, allows me to still my mind, if only for a period of time.

Friday, it will have been two weeks since Janice got a lawyer to do a title check on the Mother Unit and me. He told Janice that it would be about two weeks to get her an answer. I did my own title search under my name, the address of the property in question, and of the Unit's name. The only thing that is coming up is from when I transferred the house to the Mother Unit right before I moved out here in 2013. So, that said, I'm trying to do something that is nearly impossible for me to do, and I am doing it to challenge my faith. Why? Especially at this unspeakably crucial life change.

Here's the thing: I am Mulder and Scully, all wrapped into one psychopathic fruit loop. I want to believe, but I can never quite surrender completely to what some might call faith. I worked diligently, leading up to the Full Moon, to draw upon ideas on how not to end up homeless, on how to swallow my pride and ask for help, if worse came to worse, and to light a little flame in my corner of existence to let the universe I'm here and I need help to get somewhere else, safely, with Smidgen and Toby.

But, I'm repeating myself, I know. It's just that it's a tad terrifying to think of the alternatives if I can't get us back home...ANYWAY,   
what I'm getting at is, there should be no reason any liens against the house would exist, and it clearly states the deed belongs to the Mother Unit, so I am putting my money where my mouth is, and I am not setting up a GoFundMe until I know for certain whether or not I need it. I'm being mindful of my roaming thoughts, of which I have too many, and I am redirecting the thoughts from "what if...________?" to "I am grateful for this moment's peace, and the many moments of happiness I know lie before."

Let me be clear here; I'm not talking about testing the gods, or trying to bribe anything in the other realms. It's about testing myself. It's about finally admitting to myself that being a combination defeatist/impatient tackhead is a horrible thing to be, for my own wellbeing, and that I am the only one who can change this panicky chaos. So I am almost constantly, even in the background when I'm multi-tasking, chanting Reclaiming's indomitable "Kore" Chant, which states, in part, "She changes everything she touches, and everything She touches changes." When I'm at home, and not repeatedly whispering the chant in my mind, I'm singing the Native American healing lullaby, "Nah Bvey Hi-Ay" to myself. When I'm at program, in between in group session, I walk the labyrinth and either chant "Kore" or sing "Nah Bvey Hi-Ay."

In this time of change, "Kore" is the one statement about the Goddess I have ever heard, and I've treasured it for such a long time, from the beginning of my Pagan journey way back in 1988 until present time, I even decided to have it embossed on an altar I'm getting. Before my computer died and demanded replacement, and then I was told that I'm going to have to move, I took some extra money I had in March and commissioned an oak altar I had always wanted. One of the options of the creation of the piece was to have phrases or names in the font of your choice (of what they have available), inscribed into the wood. It can take five weeks or longer for it to be ready to ship, so I don't even know right now what address to give them in place of the San Diego one I provided! That is, if I have an address at all! This time in my life is the most momentous one I've experienced, even more so than the 2013 move. 

​The moment I returned to Her, radical changes began to happen, and continue to. And it's to this I cling right now, for change indicates that all things and situations are transformable.  But I have to have faith in this, not just know it.  If I can't, I am lost, no matter where I end up living, or not.

"We are changers; everything we touch can change."
tinhuviel: (Default)

Every action is a prayer to the Goddess. When we make a simple dinner, when we look fondly on a friend, when we light a candle, when we touch a lover - all these can be rituals to the goddess. All we need is consciousness. We must be aware, as we perform the actions that sustain us in our daily lives, that we embody the energy of the Goddess. And that we art, from choice and through strength, to empower Her presence in this world.

Thus, when we enter our car to drive to work, we become the Goddess entering her solar chariot. When we cut our sandwich, we break bread in the ancient tradition of communion. There is no action that is not part of Her grand and glorious worship. Let us live each day to full awareness of that truth.

- The Goddess Companion by Patricia Monaghan


tinhuviel: (Default)

I had been waiting to make an official announcement about our moving to Longview, Washington when I better knew more concrete details, such as when we were actually moving. I'm certain this is the first time 99% of you have gotten an inkling that we were leaving San Diego. The following account is extremely abridged, as I'm going to wait until the dust settles and make as full and accurate document as is possible.

The long and short of the reason for the move is that Matt's parents followed through on their ultimatum to Matt to clean up his hoard or get out. Everyone's lives are in an upheaval, yet Matt refuses even to admit he has a problem. You can't be a narcissist and successfully get treated for hoarding, because you can't take the necessary first step of confessing that you aren't fucking perfect. But I digress.

About a week ago, the Mother Unit informed me that I would have to pay more rent, but she would make no guarantees that I'd get any more than what I'm getting for my money now, like a bit more room in their refrigerator (I'm currently using one small produce drawer, which makes for more trips to the store, which exasperates the Unit. All that said, one of the reasons I've lost so much weight is that I would go hungry rather than bear the guilt of inconveniencing the Mother Unit to take me to the store.).

Anyway, my other option is to move back East. ...if I can afford it.

So, about a week ago, and a day after I was essentially invited not to move with the Mother Unit and Matt, I was informed that Matt's parents want us all out of the house by Bealtainne, the 1st of May. I had previously been given the vague impression that the move was going to happen in the late Summer. SURPRISE! Needless to say, I've been scrambling to figure out what I'm going to do and how I'm going to do it. If things go as hoped, planned, and ritualised, I'll be selling the Duncan house back to Aunt Janice and using the money to make the move, not back to Duncan, but home, to Asheville. If things don't go as hoped, Smidgen, Toby, and I could end up homeless and stranded in San Diego.

I am simultaneously elated and petrified, because I don't know on which side the coin will eventually rest. The thought of finally returning home brings tears of joy to my eyes, but the idea of being alone in a what is still to me a strange city, with no way to provide even shelter for my bebbies, freezes my heart with terror. At least I won't have to wait for very long to find out our fate. In the meantime, I'm composing a formal request for the GoFundMe account I'm going to set up. If the sale of the house is successful, I'll refund whatever money is given to me via that method. If it's not, then I can use whatever people give me to subsist until something more decisive is in place. Honestly, though, I think this is going to turn out remarkably well, and perhaps even better than I am dreaming. Since I'm usually steadfast in my assertion that the glass is always half empty, I'm taking this optimism as a very good omen indeed.

"Country roads, take me home, to the place I belong."

Herne

Apr. 9th, 2017 04:27 am
tinhuviel: (Default)
tinhuviel: One of my first self-made icons (humanity)

This is only a test. I am attempting to find a decent, convenient, lazy user-friendly client/application for posting entries here on Dreamwidth. I am currently beta testing [site community profile] dw_beta for this post. We'll see how it goes. I'm not confident. I shouldn't be so hard on something I'm only now trying. It's just that the choices for clients in a MacBook World are grim at best. I'm just spoiled by years of lovely Semagic. And I hate change.

2 + 2 =...

Apr. 8th, 2017 09:05 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)

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Not that it's been any big secret, but I barely posted in the Cliffs of Insanity this long time past because 2016 was essentially the year I attempted to jump off the Cliffs repeatedly. I've been in therapy...a lot. I've neglected myself, my friends, my responsibilities, and pretty much everything else. It is only until recently that I've found myself looking forward to the days I attend outpatient therapy, rather than trying to figure out a way to graciously bow out.

So, now, thanks to being a Conspiracy Theorist Hipster (i.e. I was a Conspiracy Theorist looooong before Alex Jones ruined shit for everyone), I'm not sure if the therapy is helping, as in I'm feeling better and more like myself, or if it's "helping", as in 2 + 2 = 5 thankyewwwwwblubbberblubberblubberrrr.

That said, before I get into the heavy shit I need to dump on whomever is unfortunate enough to chance upon it, I need to confirm with those who've known me for a while: what do you think? Four is the correct answer to the 2 + 2 question, yes? Or is my mathematics as shitty as ever? I leave it to you.

tinhuviel: (Default)

the-alpaca-park-07

 

I am officially migrating from LiveJournal to Dreamwidth. The transition is going to be difficult, but it's past time. If I'm unable to transfer all the massive contents of The Cliffs of Insanity here, I'm going to leave it up in an archive capacity, but I will no longer be posting there, except for the occasional Twitter update, until I discontinue that as well. The Cliffs will have turned 15 years old in June, and I was thinking of making the transition at that time, but I have much to write about and many events to account, so the change must be made sooner rather than later.

My tweets

Mar. 8th, 2017 12:00 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)

My tweets

Mar. 2nd, 2017 12:00 pm
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My tweets

Mar. 1st, 2017 12:00 pm
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My tweets

Feb. 11th, 2017 12:00 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
  • Fri, 17:54: RT @neiltyson: Odd that our measures of animal intelligence are often tests for what we do best, rather than tests for what they do best.

Moises

Jan. 31st, 2017 01:03 am
tinhuviel: (Crone)

In late December, I requested an Uber ride up to the store. A handsome, middle-aged gentleman named Moises picked me up. I began a conversation with him, because I loved his accent, but couldn't quite pinpoint the origin. He told me that he was from Iran and that he was a movie director who made a film that that government did not like. For his trouble, he spent a year in jail and, afterward, it was hard to make a living doing anything.

So he legally immigrated to America and is now essentially a taxi driver, after being a creator and visionary. He told me he missed his family and that most of his money goes to them and to save enough to bring them over to him, hopefully next year.

I advised him to go to Mexico or Canada before it was too late. His optimism and faith in the way the United States is supposed to work was heartbreaking.

Ever since I heard the news on the Muslim ban, I can't stop thinking of Moises. It's much more personal when you see the soul-rending results of the decision of an extremist mad man sitting pretty in the White House, ruining lives with the flick of a pen.

Green 17

Jan. 30th, 2017 11:05 pm
tinhuviel: (Pensive)
Happy New Year to my dear ones here on LJ.  Go green for 2017.  Fight for the Earth, fight for our freedoms.
NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER SURRENDER!
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tinhuviel: (ELO)
I’ve been doing some hardcore servicing on my computer.  The keyboard and touch pad were starting to act up shortly before the trip to Los Angeles.  A few days after I got back to San Diego, the computer flew al to hell.  So I’ve been working on it; thus, my delay in relaying the rest of the Los Angeles story.  I think everything is sorted, now, so onward and upward!

I'll only be posting a fraction of the images I took whilst in LA, but you can click this pic to access all of them, if you wish.  Also, the original size pics are only a click away from the pics I posted here, so get that mouse to moving!

Our only two forays into Touristville was our trip to the La Brea Tar Pits museum (the Mother Unit and I went to the pits last year, but did not go into the museum.).  I don't think I've ever been in the presence of so many bones and fossils.  It was awesome.


Then Andy needed to go to the Harley store to get his sister-in-law a shot glass that said Los Angeles on it, so we found ourselves battling the cast of thousands on the streets, who oblivious to nothing but the stars embedded in the sidewalk, and legendary locales like Grauman’s Chinese Theatre.  I stayed in the car while Andy ran his Harley errand.  I would only have slowed him down, and the clock was beginning to tick by then.

After escaping the tourist traps, it was off to House of Pies.  This is a great hang-out place, and my biggest regret is not actually getting a piece of actual flipping pie from there!  There’s always a next time, and a slice of blueberry cheesecake with my name on it, trust me.



Now, I was under the impression we were meeting only Paul, because Richard was in Las Vegas.  When I got a text on the way to the restaurant informing us that we were on for 3 PM, I thought it was Paul.  Andy and I got there a little early to get us a booth and, shortly thereafter, Paul showed up.  I was taken aback a little, because I had forgotten he’d shaved, so I was expecting the furry edition of the beleaguered Jack Cucchiaio.  We gleefully chatted for a few minutes and Paul and Andy got acquainted, when Richard Gale showed up, which surprised the fuck out of me.  I figured we wouldn’t have a chance to meet him, because he was out of town, and all.  He even brought me a Ginosaji spoon, which is the last thing I expected, because I contributed without requesting any perks.  The perk for me is to see this film come to fruition.  If I had my way, the people with the real talent, in my opinion, which is the only one that matters, would have endless funds for their projects, frighteningly organised promotional work, everything they need at their fingertips, and 100% creative control of their own work.  It was the only way to change the music business, which we’ve seen on almost every level, and I believe that’s how it’s going to end up in what we still call “Hollywood.”  Anyone with any shred of talent, and imagination, and a Tribe that will back them up no matter what will eventually own the world. Jeff Lynne found that out initially at Hyde Park.  He’s still being shocked by it all.  It couldn’t happen to a better person, except people like Barry Andrews and Richard Gale.

The Spoon of the Ginosaji has found a place of honour next to my baby dancing Groot.  Behold the oddest couple in fandom!

Our early dinner lasted longer than expected.  We talked movies, film-making, music, and general tomfoolery until it almost ran Paul and Richard late.  I thanked them for being two of about ten people on this planet to make me genuinely happy and laugh since 2011.  That means more than most everyone can possibly realise.

Richard introduced Andy to the wonders of Uber, which saved our butts as far as getting to the Hollywood Bowl in time, we took an awesome picture, courtesy of the kind cashier at House of Pies, and reluctantly parted ways, promising to do it again soon.

Both Paul and Richard are funny, talented, delightful souls, filled with stories about what it’s like to live and work in Los Angeles.  It was deeply insightful, none of which I’m sharing here, because I haven’t asked permission to share, and there are some things that just shouldn’t be public without the consent of the persons to whom it happened.

I will say that the Ginosaji movie is progressing nicely and is beginning to live up to its description as epic on a level that’s hard to imagine.  Impressed doesn’t even begin to cover how I feel about the project.  I can’t wait for it to all be a reality.

Before heading back to the apartment, Andy wanted to go get the tee with the space cat invaders, so we hied down to the shop to find it.  Whilst there, I found a shirt that was so anti-this trip, I knew I had to have it.  I’m not one to buy frivolous stuff for myself, but I knew this would always conjure the memory of the grooviest birthday I’ve had so far whilst incarcerated in this current veil of tears, and it was only $10, so I took my chances, in more ways than one.  They only had the one shirt, and it was a woman’s medium.  Since I’m still having problems figuring out what can and can’t fit me, I decided to go for it anyway.  Luckily, it fit perfectly, so I wore it with my galaxy pants, because you can’t go to an ELO concert without having the cosmos nearby for their spaceship to have a place along which to triumphantly coast.

Jumping into our Uber with a tad of time to spare (we would have been woefully late, had it not been for Richard’s suggestion.  Thank you for that!), Andy and I were on our way to what I believed would be a defining Life Moment, and Andy was keen on a concert at the Hollywood Bowl.  He specifically said that he wasn’t tingly like I probably was.*  Since I tend to try to keep my emotions in check, my tingle factor was definitely present, but I did my level best to keep it together as we hunted for our seats, which was relatively.  The folks who work at the Hollywood Bowl are quite courteous and helpful.  They’ll also read you the riot act and not give you entrance if you have a camera that even vaguely looks professional.  Mine does not, but I didn’t want to take the chance of losing my camera, so I took my iPhone, which has a very good camera, so I wasn’t too very lower-lippy about leaving the camera at Brian’s apartment.

Andy’s phone had very little charge and he was responsible for the Uber ride back from Hollywood Bowl, so it was up to me to get as many decent pictures as I possibly could.  I even managed to get part of All Over the World, which was personally important, since it was Xanadu that officially introduced me to the Electric Light Orchestra.



The concert began with the Hollywood Bowl Orchestra, conducted by unspeakably cool Thomas Wilkins, playing pieces from English composers, like the lush Nimrod by Edward Elgar, which thrilled Andy no end, considering it’s one of his favourite pieces and and he can play it on organ.  I wish I had that kind of talent.

Being raised on various Classical composers (like Antonín Dvorak and Johann Strauss) along with the Beatles, the Carpenters, and early Electronica like Popcorn by Hot Butter, I was eating the opening act by the orchestra up like a thirsty dude in the desert who just found a water fountain.

When Jeff Lynne and his band finally took the stage, it was nothing short of a religious experience, especially since the opening song was Tightrope, which is one of the closest songs you’ll ever get Jeff Lynne to being cynical.  Even then, it turns out in the end.  Yes, I admit, I got teary.

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All of the songs the band played were their classics, and they were played with precisions.  The only exception was the single release from the new album, Alone in the Universe, When I Was a Boy.  Despite his hearing the new album prior to the concert, Andy was very deeply impressed with Jeff Lynne’s autobiographical opus.

After the concert, I said on Facebook, “No words.”  Honestly, I’m still having problems putting into words the experience I had at the ELO concert.  It turned me into Ellie Arroway, no doubt about it.

I had a suspicion he might do All over the World, but knew there was no hope for Xanadu or the title track from Eldorado.  Jeff just doesn't consider Xanadu to be his best work, and Eldorado is just too obscure for your "basic fan", whatever that means.

There was one song that brought me by surprise, and that was Wild West Hero, which they did with the a cappella in tact.  I thought I was taping that portion of the concert but, unfortunately, I screwed that up big time.  Wild West Hero is my second favourite ELO song, specifically because of the a cappella portion of the piece.  You can hear the breath, albeit very slightly and you need headphones, in between each phrase in the song.  It makes it real.  It makes it human.  It makes it breathtakingly beautiful.  Anyone interested in seeing the concert, along with this exceptional performance, you need only click the embedded video here, with the masterpiece in question beginning at 50:30:

As Richard and I had discussed earlier, the subtly of sound makes all the difference in anything, be it music or film.  If you can’t appreciate that, you’re losing a completely vital portion of your creative process.  Unless it’s a silent film or sommat, then you have to be living in the 20s or be Mel Brooks!

I must freely admit that it was during this song that I lost my shit.  I never expected to hear Wild West Hero live.  Ever.  EVER.  EVER EVER EVER. And that harks back to my initial statement that you never know what’s going to happen in this crazy existence.  Ten years, I never expected to be in England meeting one of my heroes.  Ten years later, I never expected to be in the presence of my first ever hero singing a song that only hardcore fans know by heart and audiophiles need a cigarette after hearing it.

Just as I’d heard from concert goers from previous concerts, there were moments Jeff would forget the lyrics.  None of that mattered, though.  The audience, most of us who had already forgotten what we had for breakfast that day (except for me and the Popeye’s Breakfast I’m craving like crazy right now), filled in the blanks for him.  Besides, it showed that Jeff Lynne is human and aging along with his fans, both older hardcore fans, and his new generation.  It shouldn’t be held against him for interchanging the occasional lyric the man wrote 40 years ago.  We should all just be lucky he’s willing to get up there and sing it live for us, when none of us expected to ever see him on stage again, especially not in this capacity.

His typical banter in between songs was “Thank you so much,” with his thumbs in the air.  This wasn’t surprising, coming from a man who said four words after being cornered in a studio back in 1979, that made me fall in love with him.  He was ambushed by an interviewer who asked why the band were named “Electric Light Orchrstra.”  Jeff’s reply, short, sweet, to the point, was, “Uhm...well… why not?” Right then and there, I wanted to be an eccentric recluse.  Got my wish. Haha!  What surprised me was that, even after all the concerts he’s done since Hyde Park, and the worshipful reception he’s gotten every single place he’s played, he’s still shocked and humbled that so many of us are there for him, singing with him, celebrating his life like he never expected it would be.

Paul saw the band at their lowest point in 1986.  I wish he could have been there to see how drastically times have changed that ebb in their career, and see how the band was always supposed to be seen live.  Even though always called Electric Light Orchestra, the orchestral part would still be lost to the electric instrumentation, despite the sound department doing the best they could with what they had to work with at the time.  Technology has finally caught up with Jeff Lynne’s vision, and we who never got to see the orchestra during their supposed heyday, got to see and experience something that is unique and miraculous to our times.  We got to see ELO the way Jeff Lynne always envisioned it.  There were live bands, then there were bands whose light shone brightest in the studio.  What Jeff Lynne finally got to do was bring his fans into his studio and let us see, at least in part, what he sees in his mind when making the music we so adore.

Prior to the concert, Andy asked me what I thought their opener and encore would be.  Getting it completely wrong, I suggested Last Train to London and Mr. Blue Sky.  As mentioned above, Tightrope opened and the perfect marriage of Rock and Classic closed us out with Roll over Beethoven along with perfectly-timed fireworks.

It took us a while to get out of the area, and it was such a relief to get back to the apartment and just lie there, basking in the glory I just had the honour of experiencing.  Even though I was exhausted, I didn’t sleep the entire night.  My inner vision was too filled with astronomical imagery, and my inner song was pure harmony.  I figured I wouldn’t sleep the night of the concert, so I had it in my head to do all the laundry and perform any other duties to ensure Brian’s apartment was exactly as he had left it, or at least as close to that as possible.  The problem was, I didn’t know where the washer and dryer were and couldn’t find them.  Texting Brian, I revealed my intentions, but he would have none of it.  So I limited my restoration to cleaning everything I could, and triple-checking everything I could think of…  I haven't heard any complaints, so I'm hoping we left Brian's uber-groovy pad just as fabulicious as it was when we arrived.

*I would like to note that, by the end of the concert, Andy admitted to being more than a little tingly.  HA!

tinhuviel: (Dr. Who Boogie)
There is a theory in the Great Miasma of THINGS that anything that can happen, or was ever even thought about in passing, exists in some form. It may not exist in the reality in which we think we all currently reside, but exist it does.

I write this statement as if I am a scientist on the verge of proving this theory, but I am not; however, I am an individual who has experienced this phenomenon many times over throughout my life.

On the night of my 49th birthday, those odd occurrences that remind you that there is Something the Fuck Going On culminated in a concert that had been proclaimed for decades would never happen.

At the beginning of the year, it was announced on the official Electric Light Orchestra mailing list that Jeff Lynne would play three consecutive shows at the Hollywood Bowl on Septembers 9, 10, and 11, and to be on the lookout for the announcement for when the tickets went on sale, ‘cos they’d probably go quickly.

I wrote every friend I had to let them know, to see if anyone would be interested in seeing this concert enough to buy tickets, with me making arrangements for everything else, from travel to lodging to food.  One of my oldest friends and most fun faux musical nemesis, Andy, opted in.  Not long after, the tickets went on sale, and I went to work making arrangements, which included couch surfing with Brian, the man who plays the spoon-wielding demon, the Ginosaji, himself.

I got into town first, in amongst about 30 surly homeless people who were arguing with the police.  You gotta love Greyhound!  Making my way to the airport, I waited to Andy, fetched him, fetched the car, then off we went to Brian’s, who was just getting home himself.  He had weekend for luxury in the desert.  After a while of visiting, Brian gave us fierce hus and went off on his own adventure, leaving us to it.

After a late dinner at the House of Pies right down the street, Andy and I crashed for the night with tentative plans to explore some better known areas of the city – at least better known to us Gen X’ers – and soak up some architecture. 
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We kept a lot open, as Andy was still jet-lagged – yes it is thing! – and my ability to move around like a teenager was received by someone else when such superpowers were being handed out once upon a time.

Up early the next day, we went for pancakes (Andy) and eggs and tomato juice (me), then set to figuring out where we wanted to go and how we were going to get there.  GPS is a thing of wonder.
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Andy at Melrose Place (I think?!)

First was the Ennis House, which is closed to the public, but that doesn’t stop people from lurking up and down the winding road upon which it rests.  Although a famed Frank Lloyd Wright creation, it is also known for being the location for many movies, not the least of which is the original Vincent Price film, House on Haunted Hill.  Even though it only has two bedrooms and three bathrooms, the structure is huge.  It has some amazing windows, from what we could see from the road, and I simply fell in love with the gate.  There was a massive, heavy chain blocking the gate from the road, but that didn’t stop me from shimming underneath to get a blurry picture of LA through the intricate design.  There was a camera trained on that particular area, so I’m probably a wanted woman by now.  I don’t care.  Come get me.
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Afterward, we headed to the Griffith Observatory, but could find no place to park, so enjoyed the drive and scenery up, took a couple of pics , then back down, going next to another Frank Lloyd Wright home, the Hollyhock House. 
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There were no pictures allowed there, so I have no visual offerings to provide here.  Suffice it to say, the domicile is astounding, and I can see why the wealthy were so keen to have FLW design their homes back in the day.  I don’t think they’d be as prudent in this day and age, because of climate change, because the homes were certainly not designed for air conditioning; rather for maximum air flow throughout.  But, when the temps are higher and the air flow isn’t what it used to be, I’m think some rich people would be a bit surly with Mr. Wright.  I guess that’s one of the reasons why Hollyhock and, eventually, Ennis, are public landmarks rather than residences now.  Besides, who wants to ruin great architecture by doing anything other than restoring it?  Adding A/C seems almost sacrilegious. 
DSCN0050.JPG
Afterward, it was Pop Culture time, where Andy was hellbent on finding and eyeballing the Brady Bunch house.  Hey, don’t judge.  We were raised on this stuff!  A lot of it has changed, but you can still tell it’s the house.  We never saw anyone there, so I just assume the family were vacationing in Hawaii, battling cursed Tiki carvings.  Funny, I thought that was Paul Clemens job, or maybe he’s the one who carves them.  It’s not for me to say.  ::looks about shiftily::

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After all the driving about, we both needed a breather.  Andy was still seriously jet-lagged, and me being a hermit, I needed a mo or few away from the hustle and bustle.  We found a grocery and purchased a few things for ourselves and for Brian for later, and returned to the pad for a breather and regroup for a little while.  Time just flew.  Later, Andy was keen on some Italian food, so we walked down to a place called Palermo where Andy got a lasagna that could have fed a family of forty North Koreans, and I got a delightful lentil soup.

I called Paul when we got back to make arrangements to meet the next day.  We decided on House of Pies at 3 PM, as he had a film showing to attend in the area a little while after that, and we needed to be at the concert venue about an hour prior to the concert beginning.  All seemed in order.

We then crashed.  Hard.

Come 10 September.  Another early day, but we both seemed more energized than the day before.  Extended travel, no matter what form, can suck the life out of you like Cadmus Pariah snacking on the first two rows of an audience at a Magnificat concert.

On Paul’s suggestion, we ate at Mel’s Drive-In, which is a 50’s style diner in the style of Pulp Fiction, which was something Andy was jonesing to experience.  I opted for a Popeye’s Breakfast, a super vitamin/protein shake made of spinach, kale, beets, and parsley.
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Just a guess, but I’m thinking Andy was wondering what the draw vegetarianism has for me, so he ordered – and I may be wrong about the name – eggs verde.  It was primarily green in colour, with tomatoes, corn, soft-boiled eggs, and toast.  Even though he wasn’t impressed with the taste (non-vegetarians seems to need to get accustomed to the rich flavour and aroma meat can add to any dish), he later admitted to feeling really energized.  When food is no longer a major priority, taste isn’t that much of a thing, but fuel is.  I think it kept him going a lot long than the day before, and he admitted to not feeling as weighed down or as sluggish.  One note before I move on to our next adventure, Andy went down for coffee before we began our day, and spied a t-shirt in a window of cats in UFOs attacking dogs, which he had to have.  This comes into play later. 
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After breakfast, we drove downtown to stare menacingly at the Cecil Hotel, which is now called Stay on Main, but everyone still calls it the Cecil because of its notorious reputation.  Richard Ramirez and Jack Unterweger both stayed there whilst on their festive killing sprees.  Being one of those big honkin’ donkey Sith girl cowards, I was satisfied taking pictures from the car, but was fortunate enough to get pictures of the famed water tanks, one of which contained the two-week old body of Elisa Lam, whose decomposition made the hotel’s water black for a short time.  If you haven’t heard the strange story of Elisa Lam, you really should do yourself a favour (or disservice) by watching what happened with this unfortunate Canadian tourist, who thought it was a good idea to party in a bad part of town whilst staying at a hotel that offers amenities like hostel shared bathrooms and showers, and a death or two.
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Andy fell in love with the area.  He like grimy, gritty, sordid parts of cities.  But he’s male, and probably not as worried about ending up like the Black Dahlia.  Elizabeth Short had been to the Cecil when it was in better shape.  She was last seen at the Biltmore before reappearing later on, bisected, wearing a Glasgow smile, and bisected. 

Despite our long and deep friendship, Andy and I had radically different interests in the story of Los Angeles.  Our themes, other than meeting friends and basking in the glory that is Jeff Lynne, were architecture and gruesome happenings.  Opposites attract indeed. 

To be continued.

My tweets

Sep. 12th, 2016 12:00 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)

My tweets

Aug. 21st, 2016 03:19 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
  • Sun, 12:34: RT @joelcomm: Go 3 days without your favorite thing. Then go 3 days without sleep. It turns out sleep is actually your favorite thing.
tinhuviel: (Pensive)

Okay, y'all are probably gonna get sick and damned tired of this post, but it's one of the most important things in my life ever, so please be patient with me. I have spent 36 of my life waiting for this moment, which means I was just 12 years old when I discovered the genius that is Jeff Lynne. So here goes.

Hold on Tight to Your Dreams

Hello. My name is Tracy Angelina Evans, a long-time fanatic of Jeff Lynne/Electric Light Orchestra since 1980, who is, is thanks to one of my oldest and dearest friends, Andrew, and I are going to to go to the Hollywood Bowl concert in Los Angeles concert on my birthday, 10 September 2016. To see ELO growing up in the Southeast of the US, with little money to make long distances to get to the venues the band were playing, I never had the chance to see the band with their wonderous spaceship and special effects, especially for that day. Now that I am living in South Diego and one of my dearest and olded friends' bucket list is to attend a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, it woud seem that the stars are finally aligned to make mutual dream come true, as well as getting to see one another in many years. I will be turning 49 years old on September10th 2016, and wanting to seeing Jeff Lynne playing his greatest songs of all time since since the age 13, I can honestly say that this is is at the very top at my Bucket List.

In addition, Andy and I will have the honour of meeting the cast and crew of 'Ginosaji: The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Ineffiencent Weapon', all for whom I have promised drinks for the multitudinous abundance of laughter and joy they have brought me over the years, which means more than they can possibly conceive. I owe them too very much, upon facing some of the bleakest time of my life.

So that said, living on a fixed income, it would be an incredible amount of help for my friends to assist me in a decent tee shirt and and some souvenir fundage to make one the most important moments of my life, as well as help to offer thanks and appreciation to my best friend Andrew and my new incredible friends the Ginosaji posse, who are intent on persisting again, again, and again!

As soon as I can start acquire the moneys, the more appreciated. I hate having to ask for help in this way, but if it weren't one of my most important moments in my life, I would not be asking. And I promise that, if I can reciprocate in the future, you can can count on me.

tinhuviel: (Here is the news!)

Hold On Tight To Your Dream

Hello.

My name is Tracy Angelina Evans, a long-time fanatic of Jeff Lynne/Electric Light Orchestra since 1980, who is, is thanks to one of my oldest and dearests friends, Andrew Welchel, I are going to to go to the Hollywood Bowl concert in Los Angeles concert on my birthday, 10 September 2016. To see ELO growing up in the Southeast of the US, with little money to make long distances to get to the venues the band were playing, I never had the chance to see the band with their wonderous spaceship and special effects, especially for that day. Now that I am living in South Diego and one of my dearest and oldest friends' bucket list is to attend a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, it would seem that the stars are finally aligned to maker our mutual dreams come true, as well as getting to see one another in many years. I will be turning 49 years old on September 10th 2016, and wanting to seeing Jeff Lynne playing his greatest songs of all time since since the age 13, I can honestly say that this is is at the very top at my Bucket List.

In addition, I will have the honour of meeting the cast and crew of 'Ginosaji: The Horribly Slow Murderer with the Extremely Ineffiencent Weapon', all for whom I have promised drinks for the multitudinous abundance of laughter and joy they have brought me over the years, which means more than they can possible conceive. I owe them too very much, upon facing some of the bleakest time of my life.

So that said, living on a fixed income, it would be an incredible amount of help for my friends to assist me in a decent tee shirt and and some souvenir fundage to make the most important night of my life, as well as help to offer thanks and appreciation to my best friend Andrew and my new incredible friends, the Ginosaji posse, who are intent on persisting again, again, and again!

As soon as I can can start acquiring the fundage, the deeper I will appreciate it. I hate having to ask for help in this way, but if it weren't one of my most important moments in my life, I would not be asking. And I promise that, if I can reciprocate in the future, you can definitely count on me.

tinhuviel: (Here is the news!)

Hello.

My name is Tracy Angelina Evans, a long-time fanatic of Jeff Lynne/Electric Light Orchestra since 1980, who is, is thanks to one of my oldest and dearests friends, Andrew, he and and I are going to to go to the Hollywood Bowl concert in Los Angeles concert on my birthday, 10 September 2016. To see ELO growing up in the Southeast of the US, with little money to make long distances to get to the venues the band were playing, I never had the chance to see the band with their wonderous spaceship and special effects, especially for that day. Now that I am living in South Diego and one of my dearest and olded friends' bucket list is to attent a concert at the Hollywood Bowl, it woud seem that the stars are finally aligned to make mutual dream come true, as well as getting to see one another in many years. I will be turning 49 years old on September10th 2016, and wanting to seeing Jeff Lynne playing his greatest songs of all time since since the age 13, I can honestly say that this is is at the very top at my Bucket List.

In addition, I will have the honour of meeting the cast and crew of 'Ginosaji: The Horrible Slow Murderer with the Extremely Ineffiencet Weapon', all for whom I have promised drinks for the multitudinious abundance of laughter and joy they have brought me over the years, which means more than they can possible conceive. I owe him to very much, upon facing some of the bleaking time of my life times.

So that said, living on a fixed income, it would be an incredible amount of help for my friends to assist me in a decent non-tee shirt and and some souvenir fundage to make the most important important of my life, as well as help to offer thanks and appreciate to my best friend Andrew and my new incredible friends the Ginosaji posse, who are intent on persisting again, again, and again!

As soon as I can can start acquire the moneys, the more appreciate, I could appreciate it. I hate having to ask for help in this way, but if it weren't one of my most important moment in my life, I would not be ask. And I promise that, if I can reciprocate in the future, you can can count on me.


My tweets

Aug. 15th, 2016 03:08 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
tinhuviel: (Pensive)
Some kind soul located my psychiatrist and now he's sentme to the ER for observation. Who knows how lonh they'll keep me, but I am pissed to the hilt.

Honesty

Jun. 19th, 2016 05:55 pm
tinhuviel: (Here is the news!)

I am obviously from a burgeoning Internet Old School, particularly when it comes to blogging or social media. I tend to be honest. Some people don't appreciate that, especially on Facebook. I'm not changing anything here on Live Journal because this is my place, and I will do as I fucking please. But, as far as Facebook is concerned, if any personal matters must be addressed, I'll just link them here if they aren't full of fucking rainbow vomit. Deal?

The only problem with this is that some news may need to be shared there, in the event of some unfortunate occurrence. So, does anyone want to be my Walter Cronkite, if the need arises? I'm kind of looking at you, Michelle, [livejournal.com profile] xevokitty, or [livejournal.com profile] brujah. Any other volunteers are more than welcome and met with gratitude.

In the meantime, let's just have fun dissing politics and listening to great songs and videos on Facebook until the world blows the fuck up. When it does, I'll do my best to let you know, if you even want to, that is.

tinhuviel: (Devil Smidge)

You know, the time before last (which was three days ago out of desperation from migraine pain), when I seriously tried to commit suicide, within a week of getting to the house, I was offered a stay in England and in Australia.  When I was in serious danger of losing the place Smidgen and I live, I was offered a place to live, at least for Smidgen, which is my first priorty.

All this started in 2014.

I have gone nowhere and still have no home for Smidgen.

This is why I have trust issues with people.  They will say anything if it makes them think they will with either help and things will get better or I will choose to live.

The hopelessness of my chronic pain only seems to get worse with every passing day.  I live in isolation in this room in a house with people who hate me.

When I bought this harness for Toby, I thought I'd still be able to walk this canyon hill.  In my condition, that's just not happening.  I can't even walk up to the bus stop stop without almost passing out.  I had one dude treat me like like I was some kind of crazy person, because my blood sugar went so low.  Depending on the sentiment, it was either a curse or a blessing I was gotten back in time to get some sugar.

https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B009028QSC/ref=oh_aui_detailpage_o06_s00?ie=UTF8&psc=1


The harness is easily prepared for idiots like me who never learned how to tie a knot.  It'll be fast and no one will notice.  I'll be taking Smidgen with me, since no one wants her.

When will this happen?  I don't know.  Probably on the spur of the moment, when I have enough money to get to the park.  Sometime in July, probably.  All I know is that I'm sick of the exasperation I receive when I have to go anywhere, even the doctor. I'm tired of being treated like a criminal because of the illnesses I have. I'm tired of being tired and not being able to sleep. And I'm tired of being placated to just to keep me alive, when no one really wants me alive. It's a reflex. What's the point in living when there is no one and nothing to live for?  I'd rather just have honesty and be told that, yes, I am a throaway who was only ever loved by Aunt Tudi.

She's dead now.  What's the point of anything? I am constantly in pain, these migraines are getting more frequent, no hospital or doctor but Sharp will give me any relief, there's no point in continuing like this.

tinhuviel: (Asthma Hound Chihuahua)
Sorry for the misspellings, but when you're out of your head with pain, that's kinda what happens.

Your Review View business Between Scripps H. and Tracy E. Back to your inbox Tracy E. Tracy E. San Diego, CA 27 4 Your review of Scripps Mercy Hospital San Diego 1.0 star rating 6/16/2016 I've had a migraine for 5 days. The third night, after two visits to this hellhole, I tried to hangng myself because the pain was so bad and I just wanted it to end. Almost succeeded. These people are a joke. If you are in pain, even severe, they treat you like a criminal junkie. The only thing that helps my migraine is 2 mg of injected dilaudid (pill form come back i\up because of nausea and vomiting). All they gave me was toradol (when I told them it doesn't work, phernergan (which gives me severe restless legs, and reglan to counteract the phengern. I did get some sleep for the first time in days, but I woke up myself up pooping on myelf. excessively, and still had the migraine. Turns out reglan causes massive diahrrea. So I had to clean myself up, after no food for days, still with the worst migraine ever. Decided to go to out of network and went to Sharp. They gave me my shot, and after 2 hours, no pain. Screw Scripps. Their title "MERCY' is in oxymoron. They'd rather have people suffer and even commit suicide than risk an addition. DON'T GO HERE. If you have a network that accepts only this, go out of network until you can find a decent medical network that doesn't treat you like a lying piece of trash.

"Scripps H. Scripps H. Manager Block & Report Owner Scripps H.'s comment on your review: Hello, Tracy, Thank you for taking the time to review your experience. We are happy to hear you are no longer in pain. It is our mission to provide the highest quality service and medical care to our patients and we are sorry your experience at Mercy San Diego did not meet these standards. We value your feedback and would like to learn more. If you are interested in speaking to a patient advocate, please respond to our private message. We appreciate your time and look forward to speaking with you directly. Sincerely, Your friends at Scripps Scripps H. Scripps H. Manager One hour ago Block & Report Owner Hi, Tracy, Thank you again for reviewing your recent experience at Scripps Mercy Hospital San Diego. We understand your concerns and would appreciate the opportunity to learn more and help, if possible. To speak with a patient advocate, please reply to this message with your full name and phone number; an advocate will reach out directly. Of course we understand not everybody wishes to have further communication, and if that's the case, we respect your decision. Whatever your choice, please know we value your feedback and have already shared your review with management. We wish you good health and a great weekend. - Your friends at Scripps

Tracy E. Tracy E. San Diego, CA 27 4 52 minutes ago What do you mean I am no longer in pain? I had to go back to my PCP who did did little to help me until I can get into pain management. I'll most likely have to visit SHARP again before I get to see the doctor on Friday, at $75 a pop, which I DON'T have. You wasted me five pairs of panties from explosive diarrhea, did NOTHING for my pain, gave me medication I said did not work and will probably charge my insurance for it, probably "prayed" for me, like so-called mercy-givers do, gave me not only restless legs but restless body from from the phenergen. Do you know what it's not like to not be able to stop moving when you have a severe migraine? My doctor couldn't even get blood from me today because I am so dehyadrated from not being able to hold anything down. I TRIED TO HANG MYSELF THREE DAYS AGO BECAUSE I COULDN'T TAKE THE PAIN ANYMORE. Unfornunately, I did not succeed. When my enrollment period comes up, I'm going to try to get as a far away from SCRIPPS "MERCY" as possible. I don't know why you're congratulating yourself for helping me with my migraine, but it was SHARP who did it, NOT YOU. And I'll probably have to go back to them before Friday, so thanks for exacerbating my poverty. Right now, I would LITERALLY DIE than darken your medaeival doors again. If your definition of mercy comes out of the middle ages, perhaps you should rethink your line of work because, right now, you're costing people sanity, sleep, relief, and EVEN LIFE. You're not my friend. If my head begins to feel it explodes, I'm coming to you, just so you get to feel the nice warm goodness of my untreated headache. I hate you.

My tweets

Jun. 17th, 2016 12:00 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
tinhuviel: (Londo Mollari)

Let's a wee survey, just for shits and giggles...


NAME: Tracy Angelina

NICKNAMES: Tinhuviel, Tin, TinTin, T, George, Dumpling, Darth Shriek
GENDER: Female-ish

STAR SIGN: Virgo-sun, Libra-moon, Sagittarius-rising

HEIGHT: 5’5”

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Aesthetically, straight.  I’m very attracted to the male form.  In actual practice, I’d have to say I’m asexual, as I’m just not interested.

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Sytherin

FAVOURITE COLOUR: Green

TIME RIGHT NOW: 3 PM Pacific Daylight Time

AVERAGE HOURS OF SLEEP: Maybe around 3, if I’m lucky.

LUCKY NUMBER: 5 and increments there of.

LAST THING I GOOGLED: Solar flares

FAVOURITE FICTIONAL CHARACTER: Tom Hardy.  Yeah, I know he’s not fictional, but he’s damned close, in my personal canon.
NUMBER OF BLANKETS I SLEEP UNDER: One, but it’s really thick.
FAVOURITE BAND OR ARTIST: I have five.  They are:  1) Shriekback 2) Electric Light Orchestra 3) XTC 4) Oingo Boingo 4) Concrete Blonde.
DREAM TRIP: One way to England.
DREAM JOB: Writing in various capacities.
WHEN DID YOU CREATE THIS BLOG: 3 June, 2002.
CURRENT AMOUNT OF FOLLOWERS: 282
WHAT DO YOU POST ABOUT?: Anything and everything.  If I’m able to write about it, I’ll do my best to do just that, here on the Cliffs.

tinhuviel: (Cliffs of Insanity)

On 3 June, 2002, a fellow Shrieker and longtime tribeswoman sent me an invitation to join LiveJournal. Fourteen years, and an assload of comedy, tragedy, weirdness, and wonder later, I am still here.

The only thing that will stop my association with LJ would be my death.

Or The Alpaca Lips.

My tweets

May. 1st, 2016 02:09 pm
tinhuviel: (Default)
tinhuviel: (Angry Writer)

Five Problems with Social Media


  1. Grammar and spelling. It wasn’t, and generally still isn’t, that evident on social media sites like LiveJournal and Dreamwidth, but social media sites that limit the size of posts have the unfortunate side-effect of encouraging people to make spelling and grammatical shortcuts, in order to get the most bang for their posting buck.  Twitter, I’m looking at you, here.  Sadly, it’s beginning to bleed over into “real life” writing habits, breeding a new generation of illiterate morons who will spell wait as w8, even when they have no word or character limits.

  2. Keyboard Warriors. Not everything on Earth or in the virtual world is a fucking trigger.  Get over yourselves and stop making everyone who is unfortunate enough to attract your attention miserable.

  3. Selfies. We’ve all made them, yes.  But you don’t have to make them every day, much less more frequently.  Instagram has got to be the best thing to happen for narcissists, and the worst thing to happen for everyone else, in the history of Teh Intarwebz.

  4. Emojis. This kinda ties in with #1.  On many social media sites, you don’t have to use words to express how you’re feeling anymore.  You need only post an image of a thing with a face that best represents you at that moment.  Even though it comes in handy, when you don’t have the ability to say “I’m feeling a little sniffly right now.  I may be coming down with a cold”, when you are able to write out how you’re feeling, using emojis so much may dull your ability to go beyond adding what is essentially a cave painting to a message board.

  5. Lack of Fact-Checking. I’m guilty of this just as much as anyone else, even though I try to be as attentive as possible.  In a world where anyone can claim they are a journalist, and images can so easily be manipulated, you really can’t completely trust anything you see, especially on social media.  The problem is exacerbated by people blindly reposting misinformation, based solely on the headline, often without even reading the article itself, much less double checking what’s being reported.

Loss

Apr. 25th, 2016 04:02 pm
tinhuviel: (Hickey Monster)
the_loss_by_whiluna-d9h0l0s.png.jpeg

Last Tuesday, I officially ended an almost 30-year friendship that unofficially ended when I was thrown into grief over losing Aunt Tudi.  It would seem that suicidal depression and self-isolation clears the room every damned time.  I’m not saying anything further about it, because there’s nothing more to say, except for one thing.  The friendship could often be very toxic but, because of who we were and how we were treated before we met, the two of us always ended up back together.  It won’t happen this time.  There are too many miles, tears, and life-changes between us now.  I will miss him but, honestly, I’ve been missing him since he moved across the country back in the 90s.  It’s time to accept the inevitable.

In other loss news, I’m still reeling over the death of Prince.  From the moment I heard and saw him in the Controversy video, I was in love with his music and in lust with him.  From 1981 until his death, that never changed, and it never will.  After so many losses of beloved musicians so far this year (fuck you, 2016.  fuck you hard.), I’m pretty much walking around in a combination of stunned grief and abject fear.  Why the fear?  Well, there’s Shriekback, Barry Andrews and Carl Marsh in particular, with whom I’ve developed a good friendship/acquaintance and a fine working relationship over the years.  Then there’s Jeff Lynne, who’s resurrected ELO I’m supposed to finally get to see in concert after ages of dreaming.  If any of them passES this year, I’m going to lose my fucking shit.  I’m not exaggerating here.  I can barely handle thinking and writing about it.

My tweets

Apr. 20th, 2016 03:14 am
tinhuviel: (Default)
tinhuviel: (Dodo)

Whitley Strieber is now channeling his dead wife Anne and, if you subscribe to Dreamland (the portion of Unknown Country people have to pay for [I almost subscribed years ago!]), you can learn more about her messages from beyond.  I can't decide if he's completed his journey to the Cuckoo's Nest, having lost the woman he so clearly adored, or if he's ramped up his charlatan side and decided to steal a little thunder from the likes of John Edward.  At any rate, when someone starts claiming that they're talking to the dead, or having the dead talk through them, my respect for them is gravely damaged.  I've always supported Whitley Strieber, even when what he's saying borders on kooky.  I believe he experienced something and that the Greys were involved.  'Communion' touched me in ways I can't even properly express in written or spoken language.  But this "my dead wife is imparting great wisdom through me" schtick is going a bit too far, even for me.

August 2017

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