Words In The Dark

[brightlotusmoon]

The following stories have officially scared the shit out of me, in subtle, gentle ways.

http://www.yankeeclassic.com/miskatonic/library/stacks/literature/blackwood/stories/willows.htm
http://www.topbookz.com/browse/A/Algernon_Blackwood/The_Wendigo/page1/
http://www.kellylink.net/fiction/link-specialist.htm
http://gaslight.mtroyal.ca/mnkyspaw.htm
http://www.online-literature.com/hh-munro/1891/
http://www.thecimmerian.com/?p=5878 *

*If anyone has any links to the actual full text of Karl Edward Wagner's "Sticks" I would appreciate it.

Also, yes:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2009/10/27/AR2009102703745.html

I hate horror. I hate horror films, horror stories. But it's the sort of hate that makes me deathly curious. It's a fearful hate. It's a hate that makes me say, "I will never watch this movie on my own, but I will read detailed summaries that trace every step and scene." A good example would be the Saw franchise, although those films are more torture porn than horror. A better example might be the film In The Mouth Of Madness, which I did see, one early afternoon while alone. It left a very distinct impression that has been difficult to shake. I'm very weak when it comes to horror in film, and that movie probably represents the high point of what I can deal with, even though the costumes, masks, and amounts of fake gore are obvious. I cannot handle anything with too much gore, blood, and visual disgust.
I remember back when Freddy vs Jason came out in theaters. I was with a large group of friends who all wanted to see it, and it was hard for me to decline. I didn't have any way to get home unless one of those friends drove me. And I really didn't want to exclude myself from a group activity. We took seats in the middle of the theater. I never really saw the movie. I had my eyes shut throughout. After about an hour, I left to use the restroom. For thirty minutes. I did see the end of the film. But that is a classic example of what happens if I see a horror film in a theater. Which is why I will probably decline the next time a group of friends asks me to see one with them. I honestly would rather be left behind.
I remember when the trailers and previews for The Grudge 2 played on television every hour. I couldn't sleep well for a week. I always made sure my bedroom closet was shut and that a fan was blowing to drown out the freakish, horrific noises my imagination insisted upon making.
I will also admit that if a friend were to play a horror-type prank on me, I might physically injure him or her.
I hate being physically scared. But literature holds a fascinating sway that I find so hard to resist. The right author with the right words can make me shiver deliciously for weeks without regret.

Comments

[tokio.livejournal.com]

I wish I could find some healthy balance between your fearful hatred of horror and my cynical, jaded apathy towards them. I'm a huge fan of the genre. Japanese, Korean, and Spanish horror and fantasy comprise a great deal of my "favorite movies" list, but, unfortunately, it is nearly impossible to scare me.

I did watch The Strangers alone while Adam was at a bachelor party. The film itself is quite good. I'm not sure if you've seen it, but Liv Tyler is in a house being harassed by a group of people. She's just had a somewhat bad experience with her lover, and she's alone while waiting for him to come back. They're at his father's old house in a slightly rural area. The truly amazing thing about the film is the use of rhythm and pacing. It lends subtlety and suspenseful nuance. There's this old record player in the house, and she's playing a record by Joanna Newsom. Her ethereal, light, traipsing-through-the-forest music coupled with her eerily angelic and child-like voice scratches along quietly like a mouse until KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK. It was stunning.

Er, my point? Oh, yes, THAT. I was pretty afraid. I was all by myself in my dark apartment with my kitties. I held onto Cheddar with a death grip. I watched the film again this past summer with Adam, and I was completely, utterly bored. The hilarious thing is that he was twice as frightened as I had been when I watched it alone. There was a lot of jumping involved and a lot of sweaty palms clenching my knees as I just sat there nonchalantly with my beer and cigarettes (yeah, yeah, I know I shouldn't smoke around my kitties. Terrible habit).

Have you seen Pan's Labyrinth? Not quite horror, but one of the most magical films I have ever seen. It captured my mind like it was a feeble little flag. It seems like something you might really enjoy.

As for horror stories and novels, well, I've never been afraid of things in print. Even with the vivid imagery going on in my head, it's just not frightening to me.

It takes way, way too much to scare me. As a child and a teen, I would read a lot of horror simply for its craftsmanship. I'm still a huge fan of H.P. Lovecraft, but, come on, who the hell is actually scared by those stories? If anything, the frightening thing about them is how amazingly managed, crafted, and imagined they are. The novels that TRULY frighten me are dystopian novels, of which I am still heartily a fan. They make me feel like I just got punched in the head and the gut. When I read Blindness by Jose Saramago, I could feel my CHAKRAS aching.

By the way, I love your mom's website. Her art is stunning. It's hard to describe how they made me feel, but, while looking at them, I got the sense that I was peering in to some intimate moment. I felt almost like an intruder, a voyeur, unintentionally catching a glimpse of two souls reading poetry to the other. The truthful, unbiased etchings of your mother's medium coupled with the soft waves of color and movement, no doubt due to the model as much as the artist, made me think of the way an older lover might embrace a younger one, marking the beauty and naivete of youth without taking their warm, time-earned wisdom for granted.

Looking at the work of your parents makes me wonder what your childhood was like. I found myself playing reels in my head of what the family dynamic must have been like. We know the face of pain and doubt, the pang of lost childhood that comes from intelligence. I could be off the mark here (DOUBT IT!), but I sense that your parents nurtured you in a way that allowed you to grow up without sacrificing any part of you that believed in goodness and beauty. So many people lose that with time, but it seems you haven't. It takes special people to raise a child like that. It takes a special child to have parents like that. Hey, I can feel you shining from here. :)

How are you today, Miss Lovely?

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Wow, honey. Thank you. Where to start?

I did not see The Strangers but I read the summary on the website The Movie Spoiler. So I know what happens, and that she technically survives. It sounds so abominably creepy and I probably would not watch it alone.

I saw bits of Pan's Labyrinth and keep meaning to watch the whole thing.

Oh, Blindness. I've heard of it. *shudder*

Thank you for those words about my mom's artwork. I think this is the best thing anyone has said so far and I may read your comment to her over the phone. She sometimes loses confidence in her talent, living in the Hamptons, which houses millionaires who spend tens of thousands on art that often is not that good.

My childhood was wonderful. It was like someone else's dream, I think. Friends have told me that my parents are the kind of parents they wish they had. My parents nurtured every part of me, helped me stand and walk but also let me trip and fall, and they were always there to help me while letting me make my own mistakes and learn from said mistakes. My father was much more complacent than my mother when it came to pleasing me. Mom would take me shopping for clothes and toys with a small budget, Dad would give me cash and tell me to spend it wisely on my desires.
My parents have their secrets. My father's first marriage was destroyed by death and tragedy. His wife was mentally unstable and the illness was passed on to their daughter. Their son was killed by a truck at six years old. The daughter became a junkie, had a daughter of her own at seventeen, became homeless, and died of AIDS as an adult. He has old dark memories of being a Navy sailor on minesweepers during the Cold War. Some of his relatives are in the Mafia (he is first generation Sicilian). He was born with psychic gifts, but suppressed them out of concern that he was scaring his friends. He gave me his old Tarot deck a few years ago, and it hums with power. He is softspoken but can command an entire room. He was recently invited into the Stonemasons, and is the only one of his chapter who is an actual stonemason.
My mother was raised by Russian Jews who were closeted Christian Scientists, who generally neglected her. She learned to be highly self-sufficient and became atheist and skeptical as an adult with a powerful and overwhelming sense of compassion. She takes no bullshit from anyone. She has been instrumental in helping me live my life the way I do. Her art speaks of her life.

Me? I feel crappy at the moment, but I think that is a combination of menstruation, the weather, and allergies!

This is the LONGEST comment I've ever written.

[tokio.livejournal.com]

Holy shit. I am so sorry. I really zoned out. I just looked up at Adam and said, "....How long was I out?!" "A long time, sweetie. I cooked an entire meal and ate it in the time you've written this comment." 10,195 characters. WOW.

Our periods are synced! ;P I started mine yesterday. That reminds me that I need to make a tampon run.

I imagine that your father, having the life he did before you and your mother, regards you both as miracles. I also imagine he would have much to speak about with my Grandfather.

I've always been so drawn to Tarot, but I have difficulty retaining the knowledge. I've taken a spiritual nosedive lately; although my readings for myself are still incredibly accurate, I just don't "feel" it the way I used to. What deck does he use? The first deck I had was the Faerie Tarot by Brian Froud -- I loved it, but eventually felt that it was too "childish" for me. I moved on to The Gilded Tarot deck with its stunning medieval imagery, but, during a particularly draining trial with a "psychic vampire," (my family has many), I gave the deck to someone else to use in her art. Now I use Rider-Waite, and I find that the answers it gives me deal less with the spiritual and more with brutal honesty. Intellectually, I know that every deck deals with the same archetypes of the human experience, but, spiritually, it took me until very recently to realize that the different results from different decks were an untapped energy source, and now I greatly regret leaving those other decks behind. I imagine if I still had my Faerie deck, I would get some very lovely things from it. I had a lot of positive, childlike energy when I used it. It was my little "secret," and I loved it.

I would very much love a reading with your father's deck. Its energy and the love inside of it must be fantastically spiritual.

(I love that I can talk to you about these things. There isn't anyone in my life who would listen to things like this without boredom or judgment.)

May I ask what prompted your father to suppress his sensitive intuition?

Part II

[tokio.livejournal.com]

(I realize this is a HUGE comment dump and it's really irrelevant and tangential. Seriously, though, after writing all of this out, it seems silly to delete it!)

I wonder how much of intuition is inherited genetically (or even if it can be) versus how much of it is nurtured from intuitive friends and family members. Your father and my grandfather seem to have so much in common.

My grandfather was a Navy sailor as well. He tracked submarines during the Vietnam War. He has hinted at darker things in the past, but I haven't dared to ask. His experiences AFTER the Navy were particularly terrible. The military left him with nothing. He had PTSD. He was drafted right after he started college to be a veterinarian, and when he left the military, he was no longer capable of paying for college. During this time, he got into aviation. He never had a Pilot's License, but he worked on jet engines and flew them with friends.

One day, after fixing an engine with a friend, his friend got into the jet and took off. He was almost at altitude when the engine burst into flames. The jet crashed, and his friend died. My grandfather's PTSD deepened.

Shortly thereafter, he and his friends went to a very saloon-like bar. He sat at the bar between his friends and a stranger. He had just started drinking his Kahlua on the rocks (his favorite drink) when a man walked into the bar, walked up behind his chair, and shot the stranger next to him in the head. Again, his PTSD worsened.

There's something else that happened. Grandma calls it The Trifecta. Grandmother told me she does not know what happened and that I should never ask -- she said it's between Grandpa and God.

This was all before he was 21. He met my biological grandmother, who is one of the psychic vampires I mentioned, around that age. As a child, Betty and her two brothers were repeatedly raped and abused at the hands of their adoptive family. She had a very serious drug problem -- she was pregnant with a child, my aunt (the other psychic vampire) Cynthia. She conceived the child while on LSD, and continued to use LSD, marijuana, alcohol, and cigarettes during the first month of the pregnancy. She continued having periods and didn't see any signs, so she didn't know she was pregnant until she did a reading with playing cards. Apparently, the cards told her she was pregnant.

My grandfather didn't know about her LSD-usage, but he wasn't one to judge people. They weren't terribly serious until she became pregnant with my mother.

Grandpa took over raising my mother and her sister after my biological grandmother was admitted to a psychiatric ward where they administered shock treatment. Betty's older brother, Jim, got into a bar fight. He punched his opponent in the nose, and his opponent died. He was serving life in prison until his death a couple of years ago. Her other brother, Daniel, gave me weird vibes from the beginning. I met him when I was eight. My mother took me out to a bar with him where I got food and they drank. Afterwards, he took us back to his house where I had to use the restroom. Well, on the way back to the bathroom, I noticed he had pornographic images of women tacked up everywhere. There was a stack of pornographic magazines in the bathroom and pin-ups all over the wall in front of me. On the way home, I told my mother I didn't trust Uncle Daniel, that I got weird feelings about him. She didn't believe my claims about all of his porn. Due to her mental illness, she stopped talking to me for two weeks. Yeah, fucked up priorities, but that's how it goes. I'll explain more about her mental illness later.

Two weeks later, after visiting with Uncle Daniel a few times, she called me crying. She picked me up, made dinner for me, and sat me down at the table. I remember this so vividly, wow, and I haven't even thought about it in years. She said, "If I ever doubt you again, remind me of this moment. If I ever doubt your intuition and your judgment again, remind me of what happened." She apologized profusely before telling me that Daniel sent her an e-mail telling her that he'd been having wet dreams about her (yes, she used that word, haha), and he described them in vivid, pornographic detail.

Part III

[tokio.livejournal.com]

I never saw him or spoke to him again after that. He killed himself a few years ago.

As for Cynthia, she didn't even know she wasn't my Grandfather's daughter. When she found out, she was devastated and the family dynamic changed. My mother was an incredibly beautiful, sexually alluring young woman. She had a cute body and had a sweet personality (albeit a very manipulative one), so she constantly had men coming after her, and she was pretty popular with their crowd. Cynthia was not. She was actually VERY unattractive, and was a pretty mean person. Cynthia beat my mother up on a regular basis, and my mother also had to endure sexual harassment, sexual abuse, and other women beating her up because of her beauty.

Now Cynthia is an alcoholic sociopath with delusions of grandeur, histrionic disorder, and narcissistic personality disorder.

My mother became crippled by Borderline Personality Disorder and drug use. She believes her worth as a person is equivalent to her sexual worth, and she's only worth as much as she'll put out. She's been arrested for prostitution seven or eight times. Her calling me from jail is one of my earliest memories. "Do you know where mommy is?" "Yeah, you're in jail." She gets beaten up on a regular basis and stolen from on a regular basis. She mostly believes that people are good, and will get involved with the wrong people. These people always wind up hurting her very much. She's not very beautiful anymore. Hepatitis C and two and a half decades of addiction have taken their toll on her. Even her beautiful golden hair, which has not yet turned grey, is dull and lifeless.

She wants to come here to see Grandpa, but... well, I was more her mother than she was mine, and I know that she can't handle it.

My grandfather, still haunted by Betty, who clung to him like a life rafter, met my Grandma in the 80's. Five years later, I was born. Incidentally, my father tried to kill my mother the day I was born and the stress pushed her into labor. It wasn't a crime of passion. It was a premeditated plot to murder her. I still do not know why he tried to kill her. One theory of Grandma's is that my mother told him he might not be the father. I possess no features from his side of the family. He took her out to the country in the early, early morning, but his tires got stuck in the mud in the woods. My mother, claiming to go find someone to help push the car, walked to the nearest house. The people at the house called my Grandfather. By the time he got there, my mother was in labor, and he drove her to the nearest hospital where I was born four hours later.

Part IV (WTF!)

[tokio.livejournal.com]

When I was about five months old, my mother left me one night to go to work as an operator for AT&T. She left me in the care of a boyfriend who sexually abused me and beat me so badly that he actually had to call the ambulance when he was finished rather than just leave me there for someone to find. I was rushed to the hospital under the excuse that I "got my head stuck in the crib."

He didn't even accompany me to the hospital.

My mother showed up soon thereafter and went into hysterics the moment she saw me. According to her, my face was almost unrecognizable. The hospital called my Grandparents and, according to Grandma, said, "You need to come get your daughter's child. We will not release this baby to anyone but you or CPS."

The next night, I was with my grandparents, who married two months later. My mother never even showed up to the court proceedings for my grandparents to obtain custody. She didn't fight it at all. Whatever her intentions were, whether it was because she didn't "want" me (I know she loved me more than anything, she just can't love like a normal person) or because she knew I'd have a better life, giving me up was the best decision she's ever made in her life. My grandparents saved my life and I think my mother knew that on some level, even though it hurt her to admit it.

So. WOW. I don't know what possessed me to type all of that out. I went in an incredibly different direction than I intended, but it felt pretty good to get that out. I bet my comment's going to be too long...*

Sorry, I really didn't mean to dump on you. I do think it's very strange that your father and my grandfather have such similar tragedies in their past.

* HOLY SHIT THIS IS THE LONGEST COMMENT EVER.
HOLY SHIT. This is the longest comment I've ever written.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Wow. This is beautiful and tragic and extraordinary and don't even know where to begin. But I am glad you shared it with me.

I need to compose my thoughts a bit, maybe sleep on it, but I'll get back to you on the intuition thing and why I think Dad suppressed his abilities. Although he did use them the morning before my wedding, because there was so much chaos. My friend Jenn said that he touched her forehead with his index finger and she was flooded with the deepest, most powerful sense of healing calm she had ever experienced. When my dad and I were dancing during the reception ("The Way You Look Tonight," one of his favorites), he held me really closely and I felt his gift open up and just completely envelop me.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[thedalikiss.livejournal.com]

That was one of the most amazing moments of my life. It was like he washed away all the frenetic energy I had been draining off you. The memory of that feeling is one of the places I take myself back to when I get really frazzled. Still have no idea how he did it.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

I'm so happy to hear this, honey!

I don't know how he does it, but I have a feeling that he saved that kind of power for very special circumstances. I only wish I've inherited it.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[tokio.livejournal.com]

Wow. That's absolutely incredible.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Yeah, and he will probably never tell! My father is very withdrawn and private in almost every aspect of his life. If you believe in the Zodiac, he is on a Libra/Scorpio cusp, and he's a Chinese Rabbit sign. He's like a softspoken volcano. Then again, so am I.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[tokio.livejournal.com]

My (insane) grandmother is also on the Libra/Scorpio cusp. I'd enjoy seeing what a person without psychoses is like with that!

I definitely believe in astrology to an extent. Cancer sun, Leo moon, Scorpio ascendant, Chiron in Cancer here. My chart is all fire and water, save Venus, which was in Gemini, and Jupiter, which was in Taurus. Is it a bit sad I have this memorized and spout it off like I'm introducing myself? Earth Dragon in Chinese astrology. What about you, eh? I'm trying to guess, but someone as vast as you just can't be pigeon-holed.

And woah (shut up, Firefox, I'll spell it how I want to) to the transcendental sex with past lives. The way you phrased it, it sounds like it just reached that point on its own rather than through anyone intentionally facilitating it, which is interesting in and of itself. Was that the case?

I've always been interested in the notion of past lives. Unfortunately, research on the topic has been delegated to the Realm of Fluff. Obviously, there's no way to find concrete evidence. As for myself, I've had a few dreams and a few inexplicable flashes of insight. These could be suppressed memories, but there's a tickle in the back of my mind telling me it's more than that, and that I'm just not ready for the truth yet. Since I've never had a full experience myself, my beliefs are rather uninformed, and simply fit in with the way I view everything else. I'd love to hear more about your experiences with this if you're ever inclined to share them.

I used to be a very spiritual person. I needed to be a spiritual person. I tapped into a waterfall of my truest essence, but I backed away before I got too deep in the water. I became too self-possessed and too busy. I've felt pushed back in that direction for a long time now, like this part of me is trying to claw back to the surface again. I've done nothing about it.

Until now, that is.

I hate to sound pedantic and maudlin, but the truth is that I believe we encountered each other for a reason. I've felt so much pain over what's happening and my lack of spirituality; I've needed comfort, the kind that can not be found in the bottom of a bottle, and I've needed relief, the kind that I can not buy from a pharmacy. These conversations with you have inspired me to go back and find that piece of me, to travel back to the place within me that overlooks momentum and stillness, to find my center again. The thought of going back there is painful, but not nearly so frightening as how barren I have felt without the courage to make the journey.

The Universe found a pretty hilarious way to wake me up. I believe you added me after seeing Sabrina quote my entry about sex toys on her journal.

I remember running into you on her journal a long time ago. She'd posted a picture of me and you responded with a very nice compliment. I wanted to add you, but I didn't. I thought better of it because I thought adding you after seeing you compliment me could be interpreted as egoism.

I wish, perhaps selfishly, that some day I can do something for you that brings you as much hope and joy as you've unintentionally brought to me. That way the pleasure isn't just all mine, and your reason for having found me is as great as my reason for finding you.

Yes, a beacon. Gilded.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Aww, this made me tear up a little. I wish we could meet in person some day!

Let's see *pulls up random astrology chart*
Aries Sun, Leo Moon, Pisces Mercury, Pisces Venus, Aries Mars, Cancer Jupiter, Virgo Saturn, Scorpio Uranus, Saggitarius Neptune, Libra Pluto.
It disappoints me a little, because I only feel like an Aries in certain moments. Generally I act like a Pisces or Cancer. If I had been born on my due date, I would have been born in early July.

Don't worry, you're already doing wonderful things by sharing your life with me. :)

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[tokio.livejournal.com]

That's... really strange. Yesterday, when I was typing that, I was thinking, "Maybe I should hazard a guess and see if I'm right," but I was torn between Pisces and Aries. Then I kept thinking, "Libra?! No. Pisces." I took a gander at a picture of you and then I was back at Aries (your eyes -- I don't know why, but they scream Aries to me). I've always been a good guesser, though.

I also have Mars in Aries.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

I know I have a ton of Aries traits, but whenever I read descriptions of classic Aries people, I never feel like they describe me.

Ad astra inclinant, non necessitant.

[tokio.livejournal.com]

I don't think the "classic Random Zodiac Sign" descriptions could be accurate for anyone, really. :) There are just so many variables. For what it's worth, I did get a distinct Aries impression. In my experience, people who seem to fit snugly into the traits described on websites and even books might push themselves into the sphere of traits rather than naturally fall into it. That's the cynic in me talking. She's been at it all day.

The way I see it, all of these variables are coming together in a way that can only be realized through action. It's like working on a character in a play. Reading through the script, you can see how the audience will interpret the words at face value. Running lines, thinking about your posture, putting on character shoes -- those steps are necessary, but this process doesn't make the role yours. The character isn't yours until you get on stage to flesh out the character's words with vitality and momentum. The script informs, but it does not dictate. Perhaps the truth of astrology lies not in our minds, not in our words, but somewhere warm instead, in a place that is nothing if not visceral and instinctual. If I were a star up there spinning in the cold and dark, I would want to nestle into something that alive too.

Re: Ad astra inclinant, non necessitant.

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Ooh, good points. Thanks! And extremely well-written.

Re: Ad astra inclinant, non necessitant.

[tokio.livejournal.com]

Aw, thanks.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[tokio.livejournal.com]

I remember hearing about that story!

To be perfectly honest, I'm SO embarrassed about my little outburst. The only thing I can think to type right now that would succinctly sum up my feelings is, "ROFL."

Apparently, I just started typing, and I was responsive to Adam if he talked to me, but then I became almost entranced. I spouted off some things I haven't thought about in ages.

I so wish my grandpa and your father could meet. :) I'm not kidding. Grandpa has a similar... I don't know... energy? I know exactly what you mean when you say you only wish you've inherited it.

The last time he used his was for shits and giggles. To set this up, here's some background information. They have a dog, Honey, who is mentally ill; we found her in the yard of a trailer in a trailer park some relatives live in. She'd been heavily beaten, hit by a car, and someone had shot her with a BB gun. She was completely covered in dirt when we found her. It takes a really long time to train her to do anything, and she needs very special attention because she requires a similar amount of validation that humans do.

So. She's easily distracted. But this one time, Grandpa was standing in the kitchen with his back to her. She was watching him with intense focus. This was so rare that I turned around to watch what was going on, and I was just as perplexed as she was. Grandpa was making a gesture with his hands like he was rolling up a ball of pure energy. He got faster and faster and faster until he whipped around and threw the "ball" at Honey. Before she even knew what happened, she literally, yes, literally JUMPED backwards a foot into the air with the most surprised look on her face.

I couldn't tell who was more shocked -- me or Honey, but it was absolutely hilarious. I've never seen anything like it.

When he was much younger, he would lead these lock-in seminars with a group of volunteer participants. Usually these people He'd hypnotize them and lead them through guided meditations or help them "manipulate" chi. I think he must have picked this funny trick up during this.

In spite of your uncanny ability to get me to talk about my past without even TRYING, I'm so very glad to have met you. Haha. Our conversations (which seem awfully one-sided because, wow, I've gotten talkative with you) remind me of some of my best memories with my Grandpa, and that's better than any medication for depression I could ever find. :)

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

HAH! Aww, energy balls! I LOVE playing with energy balls. Your grandfather is fantastic. I miss playing energy ball catch with people. I need to find someone I can do that with again.

And please please don't ever be embarrassed to babble at me or reveal your life or anything, I can take it. Jenn once told me that psychically I'm a beacon.

One night, when Adam and I were having sex, we went into transcendental sex, and I went into a deep trance. I started talking like a British woman who had lived her adult life in India. Which, apparently, I used to be, I guess, several lives ago. Apparently I'd been the student of a yogi who taught me all sorts of things. I wish I could remember those things.

Keep talking. If I can help you find peace during this awful time with your Grandpa, I plan on taking advantage of that so you can get through it.

Re: Part IV (WTF!)

[tokio.livejournal.com]

That's so sweet of you, hun.

[chiyo-no-saru.livejournal.com]

God, this entry is so true for me as well. I can't watch horror movies, but I will find detailed summaries and read about them constantly. How interesting!

[brightlotusmoon.livejournal.com]

Reading good summaries and detailed reviews gives me a way to imagine everything without seeing someone else's idea of severed body parts splattered visually. :)

[queenlyzard.livejournal.com]

oh wow-- I haven't read these yet, but last night I dreamed about reading a horribly scary story/graphic novel. I wonder if I can remember enough of it to write it down properly. I wonder if I want to!

[ofuh.livejournal.com]

I'm alone and online Go Here dld.bz/chwZK