11:18 p.m. -Susan B. Anthony
Sooner or later we all discover that the important moments in life are not the advertised ones, not the birthdays, the graduations, the weddings, not the great goals achieved. The real milestones are less prepossessing. They come to the door of memory unannounced, stray dogs that amble in, sniff around a bit and simply never leave. Our lives are measured by these.
11:18 p.m. -Susan B. Anthony
-Susan B. Anthony
Previously in Xenology: Emily was a rather religiously well informed witch. Zack starred in DCC's production of The Fantasticks. Dances with Bunnies tried to infuse every minute we are in this Developing Adolescents class with Christian mysticism and New Age posturing. Emily is deprived of commercial holidays because she was Jewish.
After watching Stigmata a week or so ago, Emily and I entered rather innocently into a dizzying theosophical discussion. Oooh, I can feel you skipping over this part already. So be it.
As I think is evident, I tend to yield to Emily when it come to the topic of religious facts. She can talk for hours, non-stop about the lives of various saints and the path of the church in political matters blah blah blah get thee to a nunnery-cakes. This doesn't mean that I can't and don't offer my theories inspired by too much general reading and a skewed observation of life.
Anyway, after having watched that movie, we were high on the concept of religious ecstasy. I was chittering on and we both started to attain this state that I can only describe as divine consciousness. I espoused this theory to M, that we were tapped into something greater than ourselves because we were already on this sort of a topic and it was late at night (greatly lessening our attachment to conventional consciousness). I also stated that we likely would not remember half of what we said, because this was not a state of mind we were used to. She agreed that I was likely right and my lack of conversational recall pretty much acts as a self-fulfilling prophesy.
I would like to say that the actual words were important when compared against how this made me feel, but I can't. I know we both said some rather powerful things that made me feel (from an outsider perspective) that we were both rather amazing. I wish we could get back to that state with a dictaphone present. However, that might pose the problem that we would no be as willing to speak with this non-participatory listener present.
Since I am clearly not going to be able to afford you a thought more profound that there are other forms of consciousness that link us to others and that we don't really understand, I will describe how this experience made me feel. Certainly full and warm, as would logically accompany a concept one would title "divine." More than that, I saw more of M than I had in a very long time and was insanely fond of this complex, vibrating organism next to me in bed. She was both physical and paraphysical, more so than I think most people would have been were I in this state. It likely helps that I think we arrived at this state (after a good half an hour of conversation) synergistically. There are few other that could have shared this experience with me, let alone help induce it.
There Is Something In Us That Does Not Love a Wall
Ah, Zack needs updating, in that he has not really played a part in the journal lately. Don't get overly excited, we haven't actually seen him yet.
Remember when M and I saw Zack in The Fantasticks? Recall also how I complimented and fear I confused the Mute? It turns out that our good Mr. Zack took the deserved opportunity afforded him in having been in this energetic play to get to know our dear Miss Mute. And now, I am delighted to hear, they are a couple. Isabella (for this is the lass's name) the Mute had this elegance to her that I can certainly imagine would be quite intoxicating to Zack. And, to be frank, she is quite the hottie (though I am far more certain that she has other attributes too numerous to mention right now, I am forced to judge her on her physical appearance and theatrical abilities, as this is the only capacity in which I can confess any knowledge of her). I think that she will be a fine companion for dear Zack. Pretty, talented people should be together so they can create super children for my future army of darkne... I've said too much.
The other news (which will likely alter how he interacts with the main plot) is that Zack is going to move to Albany come next fall in order to get his degree as a masseur. I speak from prior experience after long rehearsals, that boy has always given amazing massages. He has a definite gift and has always said that he would either be an actor or a masseur. Likely he will do both, but massaging certainly would pay the bills. I will, of course, miss him. But Albany isn't terribly far from me, and might make for some nice adventures.
The Strength of Ten Bunnies (Plus Two)
Today was the day that Dances with Bunnies would prove to us the incredible power necessary to bend a spoon with the power of our minds (plus the use of both hands). But first, it is wholly necessary to expend my urges toward violent outburst in class by sharing fun and educational stories.
During our last class, which I chose to leave early because there was icy-looking rain and a generally disinterest in listening to anymore fluffy, misinformed balderdash, DwB informed the class that overweight people are only that way because the fat serves as a defense and protects them from the world. Thus, it has nothing to do with eating disorders, genes, physical dysfunctions, or anything that her reviled "Western Medicine" claims it is. Nope, all they have to do is release their issues and the weight will just melt off. Can we thus construe that thin people have fewer issues? I know a few anorexics and bulimics that maybe, just maybe, disagree with her. Hey, but what do they know, just because they have a serious medical condition? They are just buying into "Western Medicine," which is always misinformed.
This, however, was not the killing blow to my attendance that day. No, that honor is saved for her informing the class that women only get ovarian and breast cancers because they are failing to properly express their femininity. Thus, according to DwB, it becomes internalized and grows malignant. If only the 203,500 new cases of breast cancer and the 23,300 new cases of ovarian cancer this year alone could benefit from this amazing knowledge that DwB seems to possess. All they really need, evidently, is a good women's retreat. To think they are wasting all that time and money on chemotherapy, drugs, hysterectomies, mastectomies, hospital stays, and funeral costs when all they need is a good sweat lodge! I have said it before and I will likely be given reason to say it again, DwB should not be allowed in teaching or counseling positions (though she is in both).
You should also know, for the record, that the Virgin Mary watches over DwB personally and that the Virgin Mary put us all in her class for a reason. Mine is clearly to exercise my ocular muscles through extensive rolling of my eyes and a confirmed dislike for ridiculous New Age people. She also told us that, when she was teaching in Illinois, her students used to ignore her all period and just read their bibles because they thought she was doing the work of Satan. I sincerely hope no divine or demonic being is wasting energy on DwB, as it would only feed into her personal fable.
Ah, on with the spoon bending. I had M with me, as I clearly needed a witness to this. We both procured sturdy spoons that could not easily be bent with our hands. We could bend them using only strength, but it was difficult.
DwB had a different sort of spoon, though we got our spoons from her pile. Hers was thinner, according to M. It certainly didn't seem outside the realm of possibility that she would give herself an aluminum spoon that a child could bend. She lisped out a generic New Age guided meditation and pushed the handle of the spoon down. It bent with slight effort. I wasn't terribly impressed, as I wanted to see it get floppy on its own. Pushing a spoon handle down with physical force, even if it is apparently very little, wasn't nearly as impressive.
Emily quickly had her spoon bend, which makes since given that she is a black belt is Tae Kwon Do and Reiki I attuned and thus used to using the proper application of energy to accomplish the task at hand. I couldn't bend mine, because I wanted there to be some mystical answer beyond the proper application of force. When I finally figured out that it was just a matter of telling your mind the spoon was malleable enough that slight pressure could bend it, mine withered. Stupid ordinary task.
There is no spoon.
Emily had come over Saturday in order to spend Easter with my family. Hopefully there will be more on this later in this entry, but I promise nothing.
As we were bored, in my room, and I work for a library system with abundant videos available through interlibrary loan, we ended up watching a few movies. The night before Easter, we watched The Road to El Dorado when we were not making Easter eggs or eating. It is definitely just as homoerotic as I remembered, a fact that Emily more than caught onto. We ended up screaming at Chel to leave the appropriately named Tulio to his true love, Miguel. It is always nice to be on the right wavelength when revealing the subtle intricacies of a bisexual love triangle (if we are not counting the horse or the armadillo, but this is supposed to be a children's movie). Emily does affect the proper innocent wonder (when she is not urging on sodomy among animated characters) when confronted with good animated movies, so it works on multiple levels.
The next day, we watched Dangerous Liaisons which I admit to finally renting when I realized it featured a young Uma Thurman being seduced by John Malkovich. At least my porn has a nice title and features the French aristocracy. The movie, as you should know (Cruel Intentions is based on it), is excellent and evidently quite erotic.
Emily brought up the fact that she honestly thought I was going to have sex with her because I had seen this movie. I was more than slightly offended by this remark, as I felt like she didn't know me at all and thought that I was slutty to the extent that I would give my body to her just because a movie was arousing. We both proceeded to cry, as tends to occur with these sorts of situations. I will skip through the process, as it was long and painful and I almost asked her to leave a dozen times. The end result is that she had been trying to be sexually forward thinking, that I wanted her to be. I confessed that there were times that I consented to more than made me comfortable because I thought she had wanted this. In an objective way, it is kind of funny how destructive a miscommunication could be. I would say at least 70% of the problem she and I suffered through in our relationship stemmed from this. She told me how she had never really had the sort of adult relationship where sex was only loving and where she did not acquiesce to more than made her comfortable. I told her that I would always admire and respect a polite and gentle "no" if she were not in the proper state of mind or heart. She swore that she would communicate her needs to me from this day forward.
I have to say, this honestly gives me hope that she and I can build something better and stronger from this newer established land. Only Time, the great revealer and unraveler, will tell.
Soon in Xenology: A return of space mutants. Maybe a ghost. It's been awhile since my reality was infused with the paranormal. Rollerblading. Easter. I am not depressed. Ennui at work. Stoning the heathens. Blaxploitation midgets. The pond.
last watched: Dangerous Liaisons, Road to El Dorado, A Goofy Movie
reading: Dispatches from the Tenth Circle
wanting: more warm days.
interesting thought: The time between meeting and finally leaving is sometimes called falling in love.
moment of zen: Having a long, tear-filled conversation with Emily that genuinely made me want to be with her.
someday I must: create a talking ferret named Kiki. Thomm Quackenbush is an author and teacher in the Hudson Valley. Double Dragon publishes four novels in his Night's Dream series (We Shadows, Danse Macabre, and Artificial Gods, and Flies to Wanton Boys). He has sold jewelry in Victorian England, confused children as a mad scientist, filed away more books than anyone has ever read, and tried to inspire the learning disabled and gifted. He is capable of crossing one eye, raising one eyebrow, and once accidentally groped a ghost. When not writing, he can be found biking, hiking the Adirondacks, grazing on snacks at art openings, and keeping a straight face when listening to people tell him they are in touch with 164 species of interstellar beings. He likes when you comment.