Mr. MASK brings down the House and Lordy LORDY, look whose forty!? Scream! Scream!

  You're walking along a path...a dark path, that twists and winds further into the black trees surrounding you.

You are faced with a sign, leaning so far over that it seems nearly to be bound to the ground, yet you are still able to see the words printed in cursive there:

'The Sinister Meeting Room has been momentarily moved to a deeper part of the forest. If it is still your desire to find your way through the twists and turns of our merry, merry house to find a table to sit at then please proceed with reasonable measures of caution and frivolity.'

    So you want to be a Word Craftsman...a shape-shifter of the written speech? To make people forgive you with what you have merely written or to so embed in their mind a series of sentences or poetry that it doesn't leave them for years after: if at all.

    To create words that become more than words and can change people and worlds.

     I am not the best writer in the world or anywhere near the closest good one, but I do love to write (even if I often procrastinate and disbelieve at times), and the fact is, I have found that at times in my life - a lot of times - words have rescued me. They've aided me when I've had to reconcile a relationship with someone I cared about, and they've helped people to see the words as actual worlds and images when they've read what I've written.

   I'm not boasting, merely saying that anyone who has writing and its world of galaxies and forests in their heart...that when they want to achieve something so badly with their writing and words...well usually they'll get what they desire. Maybe because they have an affinity with the words they write, I'm not sure.

   It's like with surfers - and so many of my family members and friends surf and are dedicated to that lifestyle in heart or action - but for them, they can go out there to seek the waves and when it's in their heart...well the sea opens its' doors to them. They catch waves and find peace and they respect the ocean. A respect that causes the ocean to allow them their small time playing in the waves.

   Lately though I've been thinking about how it feels and is to write. I read somewhere that there is a phenomena called a through-line in the process of writing. I know what they mean, in that the only way to actually make it to the end of any novel or poem or art piece is to find that central, glowing line that will pull you through to the end.

  It's so strange though, when you actually think about it. When I'm writing, yes I always know where I'm going and I can see the end of my book, more that it's just taking all the small steps to get there and just tapping out the words. But if you don't focus on that central line it can become so crazy. Even when I do follow it, I can feel all around me - like some chaotic, shifting grey forest of other bits of the story pressing against my mind from my right and left. I think this chaos is all the other parts and details of the story that fall in place as you plough your way through to the ultimate point in your novel.

   Ah yes, ah yes.

    You know the most curious part of my stories I found was that all of my characters names...well, when I looked up the meaning of said names after they were given, it shocked me to realize how well the names suited the characters. As though someone had been guiding me when I chose (or when they chose) their names.

   Have you ever wanted to be lost, to smoke a galaxy...see and hear the sky shifting? Become what you're afraid of?

Those who wish to dare...to find the Sinister Meeting Room again, need only ask by way of the Dastardly Cotton Tree.

  How, you may ask, will I know the Dastardly Cotton Tree from all the other trees?

  Well dear friend, most likely there'll be a gramophone issuing forth some kind of music or another from beneath its' wood. You should also encounter a cat with pale wings in its' branches.

This cat is named MASK and she/he/it...well I've heard that this feline prefers people to refer to it as they, but so is so does. Sometime's they're black in colour, sometimes they're white.

In thought of your well-being however dear friend, pray that you find MASK when they are a black colour, as the white version of this fabled creature is as unruly as a jury consisting of goats and mice.

     There is a simple thing you must say to MASK so as to find your way back to the Sinister Meeting Room:

     'Oh MASK dear friend, a song to wake the dead, 

For you are most esteemed Decision-er,

      Show me the way, through a point, a tail, a wail.

To the road leading backwards and forward again.'

   

     Well MASK is most likely to smile, though sometimes they tend to howl, and hopefully they will speak to you. You listen and watch, and after a moment of pondering, this feline looks down at you and this issues from within:

 'Follow the road past the marked tree,

Turn right then left then move straight ahead,

You'll come to a bathtub, poised on Cliff-edge,

and my dear, dear sir...I invite you to hop in,

Your weight should cause this pale chariot to slide,

Down the mountainside...

Do not scream (if you can help it), 

but if you can't, then make sure you bellow it,

You'll land in a pond, filled with snails and gaols and sails,

Please don't dawdle, swim out instead,

On the shore will sit a door...please enter inside,

There you will find, a whole new sky,

Dance beneath the clouds and say hello to the ghosts,

the Sinister Meeting Room you say?

Well you should be happy to know...

That no where is such a thing confined to four walls, 

and the only place I can lead you to is your own front door,

So take in your heart that you carry your goals,

and that finding the way back is just being in the know.'

    One last little thing, if you would humour me, is that I wanted to write down a small poem I wrote about otherly things, and a video clip from YouTube about these peculiar noises in the sky that people heard one day:

   Until fever strikes us and death makes his call, let us laugh and play and while away, the days of our summer, and maybe we shall learn to touch the stars,

  Much Love,

  Miss CLScarlett xx

Tonight.

Tonight I looked into the eyes of a queen and saw myself. 
   She spoke heart to heart, in a whisper only I could hear.
She mistook me for someone else yet she understood me better than anyone...
    Tonight I endured a pain, 
a pain that was not entirely mine. That boiled and swept over my barriers, telling me to give in...
    Tonight I was called back to the deep by the hands I had created. And in their eyes I saw fake smiles, that masked the hunger, the will to tear me down.
    Tonight I sat upon a ridge, silence my only guest, as I watched those people,
hungry yet glad, that forever I'd stand on the edge.

THE......Post-Nomadic Society of the Beat the Dark Week.

  Lately, I've been filling the gaps with spaces, and the stars with moons...
 
   I feel what I don't and really...sometimes my thoughts and mind and shadows don't leave me time to feel anything normal. Or emotional.
   Mainly I think it has something to do with me being a phlegmatic (ahm, rather than some emotionless robot for no reason whatsoever), in that I don't really feel tragically upset when something happens. Heck, drop a tin behind me and I won't feel much surprise or any tendency to jump in fright.

  Not that I never feel anything, more that I think of myself as having many layers that are like galaxies - and friends, I believe all of us are like this, in that we have many, many layers - just that for me, most of my top layers are the grinning, numb monkey mask. Throw a rock at me, I'll smile and throw it back at you. Or perhaps I'd just smile and laugh as you continued to throw.

    Yes yes. I still think everything (fate included), has a furious sense of humour, and really it is my own fault, in that I've brought so many things on myself lately because I've basically been talking and thinking and joking around about fate and death too much.

    Jinx-Twinx!

    Words are powerful, and I think I...and many of us can mess around with them too much at times.

           

      For a while my mind has been toying with the idea (and many ideas), of creating a piece of artwork that honours all my characters and the other figures that have conjured up at times in my life (and who sometimes still do like the besmittened Mr. White and S harhar). Doesn't mean that however I portray them is how they would look exactly (or how others I know imagine them), more that I want to capture a part of the spirit of them.

 

 

  This was shown to me, I believe, through a dream I once had. It was simple really, and just a short one but it sung out. It was a group of my main characters: Karen DeVinci Hazen, Damien Sam Hazen, Cara Faxon and maybe another. They were my characters but their appearance was different. Yet it didn't make them better or worse because they were still the ones I know, and mine...and I theirs.

    Things are going swimmingly in my life aside from the occasional instances (such as this morning), when I walked out onto my balcony and found it covered in blood like a scene from a slash flick. Then my damn poor greyhound appears (also covered in blood), and I discover it's his. Poor thing.

   Or the fact that I dreamt of a man being baked alive the night before. Ohh yeah you're a ray of sunshine aren't you Scarlett?

    Remember to laugh, remember to laugh. Har-de-ha-ha!


   Life isn't all bad, and no matter how much I bawl and complain and screech about it all, in the end, I'm always unable to hide my smile and laughter. Sometimes you've just frowned for so long that a smile has to break out, you know?

   I'm sorry I'm being so morbid lately, and really I think it's more a...lovable gloom. In that it reminds me of this book I read called The Replacement, which I mentioned in a previous Blog entry. But even though it was dark and people were sometimes being sacrificed and everything else...it was also so very much able to pull at our heartstrings. Meaning that sometimes things have to be darker before you can see the real beauty hidden inside.

   So...this week is Beat the Dark Week ladies and gentlemen and boy do I ever, boy do I ever! This is an event NOT to miss, and really who with two foots two could dismiss this most esteemed chance to celebrate the last few months leading to the end of the world? Or hadn't you read the Mayan posters? That's right ladies and gentlemen our world is programmed to end on the 10th of December at precisely midnight, ohhhh it's gonna be a hoeeDOWN!

   In honour of living large and living terrifyingly, I invite you to attempt these varying methods of practise over a single weekly long period, at your closest convenience in time. :D

   Day One.  To start off with: take the week off! Or if you are hitherto, unable to escape work to partake on such an adventure, perhaps just take a few days off to start you on your quest to stamping out the darkness in your life. (Or at least till the end of the week).

  Day Two. Do something drastic: that thing that you always say you'll do one day. Decide to burn and throw out all the pictures of that person who hurt you. Start baking your way through a cookbook or a language, an instrument...don't vow to start doing said thing, just do whatever it is. Start this day to do something drastic. If you're stuck for ideas, then why not try something simple. Say hello to that person you never talk to but always wonder about. Make a tiny gift or buy a rose and leave it at random letterboxes and welcome mats with the note: Someone cares.

  Day Three. Spoil yourself. Forget the I-don't-deserve-it voices and the guilt blade and just do it. Go out to a restaurant that you can't afford with some friends. Go to Gold Class at the movies, give yourself an extra slice of cake (but of course, don't think that too many rewards lead to a perfect body heehee, no harm), go to a spa, lay in the sun by the side of the pool with music playing and a tropical cocktail in your hand. Whatever you dream.

  Day Four. Smile at everyone you see for the entire day. (Except perhaps the odd fellow in the shadows with the creepy eyes...or the police, they may believe you're taking drugs).

  Day Five. Do something shocking! Perform a practical joke on someone and anyone. Remember, fun not un! Fill an empty vodka bottle with cold water and drink it in public. Or fill a mouthwash bottle with Gatorade. Harhar. Play spin-the-bottle or change your hair colour or name.

  Day Six. Organise yourself! I mean this in an agreeable way. Stress does nothing for your peace of mind, and so - even if it's against your artistically disorganised personality - try for a little structure. Write down all the problems that are plaguing you both in mind, body and your daily life and work and then list all the solutions. Talk to someone about it all for a second opinion, and trust that in the end, events always work themselves out to some conclusion. Structure your week.

  Day Seven. Reconnect with yourself. Reconciliation. Just relax, take a break from drinking or whatever poison you use, and just sit for a while. Decide what's important for you and where you're at, or just be. Sometimes not even thinking leads you to better understand where the way out is and which door to take. Possibilities are a lot like birds, or butterflies, if you strain and leap and thunder after them, all they'll do is scatter and rarely come back. Yet if you creep up to them, or bide your time until they come to you or feel secure enough with you being around, then everything comes together.

 

 

 

 

      So I will leave you for now treasures, and with this small video of a song we all know to lift your hearts,

 

      Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

 

 

 

 





P.S. The night has wings and the sun has eyes, and we are all the children of the skyy. It also should have been added that looking in a mirror and laughing at yourself will lighten your mood too. (Usually)
 

The Way to Float in the Pool of Lost Girls and How to send a Letter to the Man in the Moon...

   I feel like I've just woken up. Though really I have been feeling this a lot lately.

   But I sense that grey rain is imminent and I could stand in it and lift my arms like in the scene of the movie V for Vendetta, when Evie escapes her prison and raises her hands into the stormy sky and water.

   That everything could and sometimes is greener and colder and wilder and more there, you know?

   Perhaps you don't know what I mean but...I think it would make sense in some ways, just...being able to feel physically there in your own body. I don't always do(which harhar, some of you may get and think already), because yes while I'm not per say off with the faeries, I am off in the shadows of fate and I can't always feel the firm edges of my own body.

   Sometimes when I'm just waking up or half-asleep, I'll feel spirit-like, like I can feel my body like a weight, but me...I'm lighter and only thinly bound to this tent-like body I've got. Meaning, sometimes things just get weird :].

     I'm not scared though...it's sorta peaceful, in that in-between light.

     There were things I read about, in a book I love. It's this quixotic tale (I lovelove that word by the way), in which a junk mailer named Erskine goes on a long journey through the night as he tries to deliver all his pamphlets.
      Along the way he encounters a girl who always looks as though she's just been crying, and who speaks a language she long ago forgot; a group of white tigers that appear here and there without warning, an estate ruled by a beautiful girl who wants to consume the world until the entire earth is covered with the estate and another place that can't be reached by tram and in which time stops...that is reached by way of the sea and the Pool of Dead Girls.

      Sound eerie? Well it is and it isn't, in that it calls to me in some way. It's actually dedicated to this little girl who drowned in Australia somewhere, and the secret heart of the book is her...an angel trying to find her way home. But, lately the Pool of Dead Girls (and please, I'm sorry if that's not the real name), has been on my mind a lot.

Ruby Bloom's Blog

   
     Morbid much Scarlett?

     It seemed very beautiful I thought. This pool see, is tended by a man with two daughters whose faces are never seen. But all the girls that die or are lost in the world eventually find their way through the ocean to reach this beautiful pool where they float forever amongst the calm waters and flowers...forever asleep.

    Lost things...are really so close to being found, and I thought I'd say something that has also been in my thoughts lately...

    A small pair of wings to guide you home, and a little star to watch by the sea. 

   Walk the beach and face the storm and maybe it won't crush you. 

   Then again maybe you'll fight your way through to be stronger and greater than all that.

    It may not be possible to fix but just think...that darkness that is everywhere is only a plain room in which you haven't yet turned on the light...

 

Neil Armstrong...August 5, 1930 – August 25, 2012...

You know, I don't want to make this into a boring entry about a subject that you are surely tired enough of hearing but...come on.

We were alive in his time, which I think is pretty darn cool. I recall in one piece about him, they said that he was always so...serene and there.

Well who wouldn't if they'd been to the moon?

I admired him though, and I know heaps of people did. I'm sure he's seeing ten zillion more stars than we could ever dream of or believe to exist now, and that it's a Hell of a lot better where he is.

   Rest in peace dear. xx

     You know I had a dream about the sky once (well a lot of dreams about the sky), but this one stood out in particular:

     I was standing on a cliff edge that looked out across a large valley to an opposing cliff face. There was a town at the centre of these two cliffs and my gosh the sky was so so blue. Well I looked up at the sky and before my eyes...well, it was incredible. It was daytime but I could see constellations, only they were actual shapes. Bigger than anything in life, and so there that it was tangible.

   They were 3D sorts of shapes but they were also pretty much just white outlines of each particular thing. There were great sky ships, huge star-edged UFOs and many other things. They were bulging out of the sky and as I stood staring up at them, crazily happy, a long path of clouds joined together between the two cliffs. And I suppose, that if the dream had gone on longer I would have walked over them.

   

That was a wicked dream. 

    However it reminds me of how sometimes (and I have no idea if this is normal or not), in varying situations, I'll feel a heavy weight in my mind. Similar to what I mentioned before about the feeling of lightness, but the opposite.

   It's as though at the very front base of my mind I can feel my hands as an actual weight, or just a heavy weight inside me. It's a little bit euphoric but it's also unnerving at times.

  Like all of the feeling in my body has pinpointed itself into that one single spot.

      

      So dance, so love, so Be. Let's find our way out of the labyrinth, and to some kind of home.

      Much love Angel's,

      Miss CLScarlett xx

The Creeping owl and a wish that was Taken by the Sea...

   Owls... Harharhar.

    You know what they say about owls...

No, not that they are wise (although who can really tell with a bird), no...really if you know what they say about owls then you know what I mean...but really, what do you think I mean, heehee, because whatever you do think I mean, well...that's what I mean.

   Nah, I watched the preview for this movie a while ago called the Fourth Kind, which oddly enough began my love-hate relationship with owls.
    Namely, because of this movie preview I was petrified of owls for ages afterwards, but then that grew to love. Same with the Joker, same with my bad-o characters and especially (at the moment), Pennywise the clown from IT by Stephen King.

     Namely, in this movie (which I ahm didn't end up watching), it was all about these abductions that happened in some remote part of Alaska  that are meant to be based on actual interviews done with the supposed-victims. But every person who claimed to have been abducted would see a small white owl with eyes that were like moths. Big black eyes that seemed to stretch, and stretch, and they'd see this creature every night before they would be abducted.

  The Fourth Kind movie trailer...look for the owl... 

     Okay so call me flighty or over-active imagination-wise, but I became obsessed, thinking that...well how can you really know if abductions like that actually happen, and so yeah I became afraid that if I went to bed at night I'd open my eyes and see the owl looking in at me.
     Eventually I got over it and now I love owls so much that most of my stationary and journals and some clothes I own have owls all over them heehee.

    But really being scared...I mean have you ever tried to do the things that make you afraid at a primal level? Try these few spooky ideas (if you dare muhaha):

 1. Sit in a dark room at night and sit facing the wall, with your back to the room.

 2. Play Bloody Maary. (I have decided that Maary sounds scarier that Mary, don't you agree?)
   This legend freaked me out, and really it's rubbish and shit so don't get too enthralled with it. But basically you are meant to wait until everyone in the house is asleep and it's midnight, turn off all the lights and stand in front of a mirror.
   Then you say blood Maary seven times, turning around once each time you say it. Supposedly you die after the seventh time, or something leaps out of the mirror at you. But it's freaky nonetheless. (I also heard one version in which you're meant to hold a knife while you're doing the whole thing, but unless you're an idiot and actually want to accidentally fall on your knife because you're spinning around in the darkness too much, do NOT do it).

3.  If you (like me), believe that a zombie-like creature is going to launch shrieking at you out of the darkness if you take too long walking around outside at night, then turn and stare at the darkness for as long as you can.

   Heehee, ghost stories around a fire never hurt either. Oh! And watching the movie The Covenant! If you want a good, exciting scare, watch said movie.

  You know I was spending some time at Belongil Beach in NSW once and I decided to spend half an hour on the beach as it was getting dark after sunset.
   So I stood there in the chilly wind and darkness, staring out at the waves and occasionally the lighthouse beam would sweep over me and the water.
   It was great for a while, but then, my eyes began to play tricks with me in the darkness. And I'm honestly telling the truth here, in that I've heard of this happening as a kind of ...aural hallucination or something like that. I really don't know, just that it exists as something.
   But as I was watching the waves, I began to see something. You know how sometimes you can see the air particles, or little sparks of movement if you stare at something hard enough (if you don't know what I'm talking at, please try it. Just stare at something for as long as you can when there's sunshine around)?

    Only in my case it was tenfold. The particles (if that's what they were), unfurled huge wing-like shapes, as though it was a great shadowy bird and it moved towards me. I freaked and high-tailed it off the beach, but it reminded me that in the past, I had seen something similar. Maybe my eyes just started seeing shapes in the wind and darkness, I don't know, but it was creepy.

    Then there were the ghosties on my island - including the fact that the old Nicholson house that was there since who-knew-how-long used to have this door that you could access but it was forbidden us to go there. We got up to mischief sure, and I recall one week seeing the door to the house open every time I went past it. Then when I asked one of the old timers who'd dwelt on the island a while about it, they told me that the door was...dumdumdum, never open. Harharhar!

    
   Anyway, tishtosh.

     So I will leave you with a small thought.....................................

      Don't let them in! Arghhhhhuuuuuuuuuuuuueeekekeke

Fear not dear ones, Miss CLScarlett xx Claws by ~SweetMahartaSongbird He laughs in my face, takes hold of my heart, grips me in his claws - won't let me shout...     He consumes my dreams, his face twisted up, the cruel glint of steel, in his touch...     When such a thing consumes, so that no thought can come, when your mind is slowly being torn - from end, to end, to end...     He fills my thoughts, my very breath, until I cannot see... A creature that was destined to live as a figment, yet has forced its' way into reality...      True he may not exist, in the realm we call life, nay he is not even a creation of mine - and yet how is it, that at night I am consumed, and my first waking thoughts are him...      Such terror, such thrill...a longing, a confusion, how can these feelings be true? How can they be not?      Perhaps there is no remedy for this nameless disease, that plagues my heart, my mind, my soul and makes me wonder if I am indeed like he.

Owl City - Umbrella Beach.

   

The Blind Man's other EYE....we...re loo...oo.o...kingggggggggg...ekekekeee

   Spring and heat are coming darlings, yet there's still room for one more cold day...

    There always is.

    What would you do if you were sitting at a bus stop one stormy day and out of nowhere, a gigantic green dragon flew down from the clouds and landed beside you? Would you:

     a. Run up to the creature, give it a hug, jump on its back and then ride off into the Heaven's to defeat evil side by side.

      b. Scream and cry and flee from the monster. Most likely running onto a busy road without looking.

      c. Screech at the monster, pull our your sword and slay the beast. It is evil and unnatural.

  d. Ignore it, dragons don't exist.

  e. Call in your men and capture the beast, use it as a new part of your TV or internet broadcast to make you rich and famous.


    Harharhar, I don't know what I'd do. Probably not b or c.

    You know I used to believe there were secret, in-between places. I still kinda do, in that I see no reason to say that this or that is impossible, I mean really...how do you know? Maybe at some point in history or somewhere in the world those things are possible. At the same time though, if a dragon did actually land beside me I'd probably lose my mind. (Not that it's that far from being chaotic already harhar)

     Mainly, it probably didn't help that I'd have dreams in my past where they were so close to reality and where I lived that I could have been sleep walking and seeing apparitions as I slept walked. There was one time when my family and I lived in this house on the gold coast that had a steep driveway down onto the main road: it was more steep than long and windy though, just straight down.

     This one freaky night I had a dream where I woke up after midnight and walked down to the base of my driveway to sit there. Then, as I was staring across the street, all of these things spilled out of a nearby drain. They were small aliens, but they also looked robotic. They were brightly coloured and clicked and whirred as they moved. They actually looked like something out of Halo.

 The way they moved was as though they had millions of small centipede legs and were scurrying on them, yet I couldn't see any legs. They all moved about and I stayed perfectly still until they noticed me, at which point I believe I ran inside.

   Then there was another part (which made it much more a dream than the previous part), in which one of my brother's and I, well I convinced him to come to the base of the drive way with me, so as to show him the things I had seen. They didn't reappear but then my Dad replaced my brother and this time...they did come.

   We ended up becoming trapped inside one of the alien's, somehow.

   Okay, you may tell me that this is obviously a dream, and yes I agree, but...is it completely a dream? How do I know that I didn't walk outside late at night, half asleep and then see things on the road in my half-asleep state of mind? Creeps me out harhar.

     We are in the era of the sun...and boy do we burn brightly. We race along like flares in a gale, digging ourselves away and we are so brilliant but so quickly dying. Maybe that's why everything feels like it's going so fast.

      Really, I feel more monkeyish today, and really...ever since I found out which member of my family is which Chinese horoscope animal, that's a lot of what I see. My Dad is a rabbit you see, and hey...rabbit's are lucky. And my Dad is constantly being dealt good luck, thanks-be. (And knock on wood, hemehm).
      But gosh, that languor, devil-may-care, watching-eyes, with an eternal smile and a soul reflected in his eyes of two spirits ever battling the other. This monkey. It's what it is and I am and we all are at times and what we sometimes dream to be or know others to be. Like a creature that vainly loves itself only to hold up a mirror so that it can constantly and cruelly laugh at itself. The Steppenwolf mindset.

 I feel aspirational, that I could scream or laugh or turn into a wolf and rip something in half. I feel like I could sprint and race the wind through a forest and actually find faeries and gnomes in the roots of trees.
  That somewhere a cat would have wings and its fur would no longer be white. Where a cat who was once a boy would run with a small, thin tabby cat through shipping docks.
  Where a lion could create a door in the air with its roar.
   Where the mysteries of the world were there and tangible, and in which the sky did move and the waves could be heard at every moment and the light never faded.
   Where time stopped.
      I feel that I could turn away from the world forever..or face my shadows so as to finally not run. Maybe that's what it takes to be free.
     I like the idea of being free...and wanting it. Though I think there's really been only a few times in my life when freedom has been felt strongly for more than a few days or hours.
   Take those people we all know who just seem to be unbreakable. That no matter what horrid relationship their in or situation in life...they don't belong to anyone and they never will.

   Sometimes I hate myself. Sometimes I love myself vainly.
     Sometimes all that is fit is to laugh at myself until the mirror breaks and...
at other times all that is needed is to break the mirror instead.

    So so so, some of you do know. I seem to be rhyming, though honest I'm not trying! It's simply a habit that will not rabbit. Oh yes, I used rabbit to rhyme with habit!

    So now I while go and so I wanted to let you know, that I love you all and hate to drawl, but seems are seems and know is know.

     Christmas Cherubs!

Miss CLScarlett xx

The Gentleman with the Indigo Gun.

'They are born for the solid earth, not for the water. And naturally they won't think. They are made for life, not for thought. Yes, and he who thinks, what's more, he who makes thought his business, he may go far in it, but he had bartered the solid earth for the water all the same, and one day he will drown.'

'Whoever wants to live and enjoy his life today must not be like you and me. Whoever wants music instead of noise, joy instead of pleasure, soul instead of gold, creative work instead of business,, passion instead of foolery, finds no home in this trivial world of ours.'

 'Cool and unchanging is our eternal being,

    Cool and star bright is our eternal laughter.'

  (Extracts from Steppenwolf, by Hermann Hesse)

    It was one day that I happened upon, a most peculiar gentleman as I walked along an old road...forgotten and droll. Despite the heat he wore a suite, and a top hat that stretched five metres tall. His moustache curled in circles three centimetres wide at least while his eyes hosted a disturbing gleam, between the grey colours in-between.

    I stopped by him and he leant on his cane - a charming piece with the similarity of a fish -  and I asked him what he was doing...perchance his name.

    He grinned like a jackal and he tipped his hat, bent down to me and hissed.

    "How's that?"

    He paused barely a moment, eyeing me with one eye, before he embarked in a most curious style:

    "I came across a crow the other day, flying against the wind. His beak pointed northward while his wing-tips to a Southward end. His eyes were a curious blue while his screech could have woken the dead, and there I stood, beholding this black flight of my new friend. So I took up my Indigo gun, finding myself quite disturbed, and aimed it between the dear birds eyes. Such as was my fortune, the wind was blowing...in a gale-like manner that night."

   "But before I could shoot, the crow happened to hoot, down at me with a voice like iron:"

  "Oh dear please sir, if you would allow me a second, I guarantee that you will not decide to send me to Heaven."

    I laughed at this and paused my aim, giving the old feathered fellow a chance to claim.

   "My dear black crow I didn't know, please do so indulge me with what you know."

   Well the crow he looked, across the sky and by a chance he began to cry.

  "Oh my dear good sir I have an alm, that no doctor on earth has been able to balm. It's with me each day, it's with me each night and by goodness dear sir! It's that I can't fly!"

  "Oh true here I fly, before you right now...yet utter not a sound, I shall tell you how. You see my sir, it makes no mark, whether I puff or flap about. No matter what I do the wind is too strong, and I do not make progress from here or the lawn. Oh is such a credit, to the mightiness of Miss Wind, but oh dear sir, how I long to be free-winged!"

  "Well I held back a moment, regarding the crow and did so decide - and you aught to know, that I really am not an indecent man - so taking in mind, I shot that crow in record time. Surely to put up with oddity is fine, yet is it humane to allow such a crime, of a foul-aired-thing that cannot fly? 

  "I cried for my friend, yet left that road...and did I turn back? Not once, oh no! For my deed is done and I shall not be forgiven, in fact all that is left is to progress to Heaven! Yet go I shall not, for I still have long paths to walk, but perchance you found favour, with this small talk."

   With a wink and a smile, the gentleman turned from my side, and with a hastening of his heels he skipped through the fields. I watched him go, and still wondered his name, and as it began to rain I heard him bray.

  "It's Mr. Denver dear friend, and beware what I said. For better is dead, an unused talent my friend."

     

   Heehee, oh my gosh that was so fun to write! Sometimes I find that you just need to write things that have no ulterior motive and are light hearted and senseless. I think it makes for good inspiration. 

   Anyway, last words if you would. Fate has an even more wicked sense of humour than I first suspected (and, hint hint, do not go around claiming that fate/death and yourself are old chums.) No one is except perhaps God and saying otherwise only makes fate pick out the nasty-shock cards for you. As it seems that he likes to hit you when you have it all figured out.

   Though, backtracking a bit, from what I read of the Bibliosis, apparently God and death aren't such great pals either. I mean, if that weren't true, why else would all the Bible be aimed at defeating death?

    So yeah, I've decided that death and fate are to blame for everything...well except of course for the things that we bring on ourselves. Then again, I've always believed that harhar.

    Music, music and wolves. :} If you're feeling wolfish like I am today, here are some wolfish things to enhance your mood:

   1. Read Steppenwolf by Hermann Hesse. (Book about a man who believes himself to be part wolf inside)

   2. Listen to The Cage by Sonata Arctica (It's a loud song about a man who feels himself to be a wolf whose trapped from true freedom)

   The Cage by Sonata Arctica song 

   3. Find a steep, grassy or sandy hill - like those ones you find on really untouched beaches - bring a few of your mates and wear a crazy mismatch of wigs, capes, odd clothing and hats. Then run and jump as fast as you can down the hill, screaming and howling as you do it. Makes you feel very wolfish.

   4. Watch the movie Bolto: which is about a half-wolf, half-husky outcast.

   5. If you're up for a trilogy or series either read: The Wintering Trilogy: ICE, THAW, STORM by Stephen Bowkett OR Wolf Chronicles by Dorothy Hearst.

     So I hope you have been utterly enlightened by this blog. :D

Until next time dear friends,

Miss CLScarlett xx

  

Alice, the Bird in the PaperClip Cage and an Addiction to Fruit-mince Pies...

You know there is an ancient Chinese proverb that says: 
 “An invisible red thread connects those destined to meet, despite the time, the place, and despite the circumstances. The thread can be tightened or tangle, but will never be broken.”

    Pretty cool huh? 

     Bird's keep getting caught inside my home...and isn't it peculiar how they can find their way in...but never out again?
   I've been thinking, about a lot of things, and of noteworthy news I may or may not be going to a possible interview for a position somewhere tomorrow. It may not happen, or it might and I can't bring myself to talk about it too much because when I think about or say I'll do it, things don't seem to work out. So! We will stay positive and...whatever heehee.

    All I know is that it feels familiar, in the pits of my stomach, the prospect of this particular job.

    Dreams within dreams...don't we all love to dream. Even in books that are based on the author's view of real life, turns out that nothing is as straight forward as that (and yes most of us do realize that by now), but when you spend time watching movies or reading books where everything works out right, that the right people always fall in love or you receive that dream scholarship or job, it never seems to happen that way in reality. Fiction is much more straightforward than fact, oddly enough.

    So a dream, a dream...oh to dream.

     I had a dream once, it was curious, would you like to hear?
     In the first part of my dream, I was being driven somewhere in a car, down a suburb street. We were driving slowly, and as I looked out of the window...I saw a man. (I know, unusual hey...)
   Well this man was unusual. His long hair, his eyes, his skin and his clothes were a pale, unnatural white. He actually looked very much like how I'd imagine my bad-o character Sodom, but...it wasn't Sodom. Just looked like him.
   Now what was odd was that we drove past him, and as we did he stood there, statue-like on a driveway, and turned staring at me as I went pass. Then, to my disbelief copies of this man appeared on all the other driveways, copying his actions and turning to look at me. But you see, they weren't just copies, they were somehow him as well, they were all the same person...and he himself was something...other.
   
   In the next part of my dream, I found myself inside this small square room, all blank walls and no way out that I could see. On the floor of the room was a black weapon case: in the shape of a machine gun. Now there was a certain, horrid smell that came from the case, but despite this my curiosity got the better of me and kneeling down, I opened the case.
    The smell was like death, and inside was a weapon that looked like a strange cross between something alien and a machine gun. It was faintly green-licorice-black in colour. I reached out and took the weapon and began to pull it out of its case. Yet as soon as my skin touched it, it literally began to melt.
    It was so horrible, becoming a black tar-like substance that hissed and stank more and more, pooling onto the ground in a big mess.

    I just recall staring at this weapon melting, unable to get myself to move and in a state of horrified fascination. The dream ended after that. 

  Curious...? ha! Yesss Scarlett, your idea of curious is disturbing to others. :]

     So I shall drift away and end a bit, seeing as I've held you up for long enough now. Mainly, I just keep thinking that fate and everything else has a vast sense of humour.
      Or he just likes to toy with me.
       There I was eating my mind down about everything and believing that I am destined for this rut for the remainder of my life and even if I did get a job it would be shit (and really this is only a small part of my mind-state at the moment, but it is the part that was plaguing me yesterday and lately) (And! I don't have the job yet), but after all that, a job interview is thrown at me in a pretty coolio place.

     Basically meaning that even though I rant and hate fate and death quite a lot, and complain about the shadow of doom, at times there really does seem to be a humorous affiliation between us. Such as jousting, it's a love-hate relationship. Not meaning any disrespect either. Like a cat that occasionally plays gentle games with you before sticking you with its' claws...then again sometimes he let's you go.

   Mainly, I'm just grateful there is something on the horizon for me.

For now though I shall disappear back into the ether.

    Until....
    Miss CLScarlett xx

     P.S. I simply can't wait for Christmas so I can have fruit mince pies again!

The Long Pale Road...into There we go...humhumhum

 Peace...tranquil, and in-between places,
 
   If you had a choice, if you had to choose one burden to bare forever, would you take the demons you know? Or would you take a horror that seemed more attractive, or known, or easier?

    Each day I find myself hating, and loving, hating and loving...like a damned malfunctioning light switch.
     The truth is that the more I feel this slow bitterness growing in me like a plague, the more bitter I am towards myself for it being so.

      Even this is nada, and no cause for concern. Things pass, and they always have, and they always will...forever. It's how we look at it all that get's us through, but sometimes the shadows are long and sometimes claws appear in the darkness and I don't know if I'll ever sleep again.
   Sometime's I love them so much that I feel I could rip my heart out to be rid of the intensity of that emotion and warming to those I care for. Some thing's can just be so unbearably beautiful that it would be wiser to stab them in the heart or bind them away, so you don't have to see how despite this...despite how much you love things or others - or how beautiful things can seem to be - they are more than likely going to be marred by life.
   Is it better to kill them quick so you don't have to bare the pain of knowing something like that could exist even when it's doomed to perish and be turned into something ugly. Then again perhaps life will be merciful and just let it die as it is, rather than morphing it into some blackened version of what it once was...

     Nah, lighter lighter...pant's on fire, curiosity killed the cat...but then again, so did generosity...

  Memories...huh. The most important thing we have I think. What are we but creatures remembering things that at the time we took for granted or didn't think about too much?
   Like night-lights in a dark, dark night.

  Back when I believed more in...Him, (and I'm not trying to preach to you here or make you uncomfortable.), but I had this one image, like...it was just one day out of any and I wasn't even that aware, I had this sudden flash of a single, short image. Like I'd just regained a memory, or a de ja vu of knowledge. The image was simple really: a salt and sea-like atmosphere, a breath of wind blowing against a pale wicker chair, a soft white embroidered fabric sheet, lace and open spaces with warmth and sun fragments.

   It came with such a beautiful feeling, something Heaven-like, almost...and the certainty that one day, everything that has been taken from us will be given back.
    I really don't think that God is the maddening, rule-slamming, jealous, overlord religion makes him out to be. Meaning that, somewhere deep inside me I still believe that one day it will be all different and it will be what no one expects and just...

     I mean, what if that incessant restlessness that we all feel is that nowhere this side of here is where we belong...that there's a homeland...somewhere?

Ah...just bare with me.  

   I've had other fragments like the one I described, and some places where it's felt like something solid has rooted hold inside of me, and it feels right. Yess, hippy girl...I find most of these in nature.

   I used to comfort myself through thinking of a long pale beach that stretched into nowhere, and I'm just walking along it, heading into the white (and my type of beach is cold-winded and warmish stills, with clouds and occasional blue lacing the sky.)
   I'd keep walking and I wouldn't hear any of my normal thoughts, or the negativity or the shadow of doom and...I'd just be me, and not anyone else and no one would really care.
   Then, in the distance a figure, a silhouette would appear. Eventually he would come closer, a man I knew...a faint glint of green or blue because I could never really tell. Maybe even gold flashing.
   Then he would lead me somewhere...to a jetty perhaps, at which a boat would be waiting to take me away to somewhere...the right place. Where it all stops, and the time moths cease their gnawing and the shadows don't grow long.
     An Eventide place.

    It's almost too much to bare...thinking about that homeland-like place, argh.

   

     So we do not forget...that the darkness is only a terror we cannot see, and only the brightest...most Brilliant light is found in the darkest dark.

    I will keep going, and we all will keep going, and maybe...if I can learn to start laughing at myself and my fears, I'll be able to sit down with death and fate at one hundred for a nice cup of tea and a laugh at all our old antics and fights.

  That would be rather nice,

Much Love,

Miss CLScarlett xx 

P.S. Christmas cherubs!!