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sublingua | |||||
| The heart with a mind of its own.(Be present.) | The mind with a heart of its own.(It's past.) | The dream that is your waking life.(Go there now.) | |||
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Nine Moonwatching Demons--And The Demon Who Watched Those Demons
Shouting Into The Void My life recently has included a lot of what seems like shouting into the void. There is precious little feedback these days, is what I'm trying to say. That, and I'm also doing that thing where I start, a month before my birthday, taking stock of the last year. I don't do this especially consciously, it's just that The Brain starts up at this time of year this kind of list, the list of what I did and did not get done in the last year. What kinds of things are on that list? Well, things like: Leaving Max, getting my own apartment, getting divorced. Finally finishing the two degrees that were in the works for what seemed like forever. Reaching my goal weight. Adding a few names to The List--that is, the list of people who have seen me naked. Falling in and out of love with The Aka Demon. Starting and sticking with a vengeance to an exercise regiment. Those are all relatively positive things (though some things, like The Aka Demon thing, are in the gray area between positive and negative). Happy Birthday, Demons So, yeah, my birthday is coming up. In a little over a month, I'll turn 33. I'm excited about getting older--really. A lot of women, I think, dread getting older. But me? I actually think things like wrinkles and gray hair are damned beautiful. I always thought that, by this age, I'd be more wrinkled and have more gray hair. I would look more like my beautiful mother did at my age, is what I'm trying, very gently, to say here. What I forgot is that, at my age, my mother had a seventeen-year-old son and a thirteen-year-old daughter and an eleven-year-old hellraiser. She had a lot more experience than I have at the kinds of things that give a woman gray hair and wrinkles. Me? I've been lucky. I don't have kids, I don't have an alcoholic husband, I don't work the graveyard shift in an emergency room. Me? I'm a lazy, exercise-obsessed hausfrau sans a husband. (It's my life though, and I love it, am grateful for it.) So, in further regards to birthdays, I try to spend each one in a different place on the planet. Some years it's been a neighboring town, or a nearby state. Some years, it's been a distant country. So I'm also, while The Brain is taking stock, trying thinking of where I want to spend this birthday. I'm thinking that I might like to go somewhere alone--though having Max along is always a joy. I want to see more of the desert, so there may be a trip to Utah. I've also wanted to see more of Wisconsin, to see Laura Ingalls Wilder's home. Those are just a couple of possibilities. We'll see though. The Goddess Of... I forgot to tell about Mayflower's goddess obsession. Mayflower is so enthralled with the idea of being a goddess, that she had the word tattoo'd on herself. She recently came up with the goddess version of my demon question: If you were a goddess, what goddess would you be? Since I have a hard time thinking in terms of self-goddess-hood, I told her that she'd have to come up with my goddess persona. And she agreed, then did the only sensible thing: She asked The Enforcer what my goddess persona was. The Enforcer, she says, thought for less than a minute, then said, "Sublingua would be The Goddess Of Cunning Witticims." (Okay, okay, not so much today, but on some fine, rare days I'm perfectly capable of hitting my mark and delivering my lines like a pro.) Anyway, I love me some Enforcer. Max's True Love, Or, That Summer I Married The Moon Last night there was a full moon--did you notice? Max told me that he took a walk and saw nine cats sitting in various yards, all of them looking at the moon. At the last show, I used big pieces to decorate my booth. Since artistic tradition seems to specify women as the subjects of so many significant pieces, I decided to use men in my big pieces of course. (Don't agree? Think of the impact of having a man be the subject of a big work like, say, Michaelangelo's David. Not too many pieces--that an American audience is generally familiar with anyway--with men like that in them.) So, I featured Max's face in one of the big pieces, one that I called, "That Summer I Married The Moon."
More lies:
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