Note: This is the description that popped up, Throbbing Insertion- Spears of love pains of dripping peace" I was really scared it might turn out to be pornography, nonetheless, I was intrigued.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
WOW! alright, so I figured out how to hook my laptop up to the huge HD tv in my living room (it's my roommate's) and I'm house-sitting the two Westies (who are the doggy reason I pay not so much in rent). They're very cute and kind of a handful so I decided to find them some Doggy Movies to watch while I do some cooking. Not finding any, I decided to put, Babe on for the pooches- you know, that movie about the pig who herds all the sheep. I open up the youtube and type "Babe part 1" and this pops up. It's so freakin' weird that it's almost cool...
Thursday, October 22, 2009
bliss.giggles.sweetly
Bliss can overflow from one to another
tickling noses and pin-pricking.
Bliss laughs it's way around a room
making giddy little knots all over
that can only ever be giggled,
stretched, hugged or smooched out.
Bliss can lead you astray from dogged
drudgery painting a path in your life.
Bliss waits for no-one and beckons
by tugging your shirt-collar incessantly
pulling toward your inner magnificence,
bright, shiny, and full of dreams.
Bliss wants what's best for the world
and what's best for the earth is you.
bliss knows best and bliss knows true
the deepest and holiest place inside
that beats fiercely for happiness,
comfort, hope and life; follow it.
innocent.simplicity
04.13.09
I do get tongue-tied
trying to use few words boldly
to convey a sense greater
than the blue in your eyes.
But they trip me, you see
into dreams I don't remember
huddled in the warmest car
with snowflakes on the windowpane.
I have naught but pen
and paper whiter than teeth
with which to coax this hand of mine
out of it's uncooperative ease.
To dabble in between lines
that intimidate my eyes
eyes brown as deep earth
gazing ever-upward heaven-bound.
I find myself hard-pressed
to define a disney blue
who confuddles my thoughts
into innocent simplicity.
Bare-breasted naiivety
was once my closest friend
until I sold her for walls
walls I tore down vice for vice
to come back to myself again..
We are all caught up!
I have just spent the past 2 or 3 hours posting/copy/pasting/inserting my blogs from my old blog at wordpress.com into this spiffy, new blog here at blogger.
Note: I did not copy/paste my old old blog from myspace, but you can find it here- http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.ListAll&friendId=40383455
my myspacey page was about 3 years of cataloging my life, funny that it'd already be thrown in the ancient pile along with dial-up internet and skorts... No love for the skorts, by the way. Do you even remember those? UGH! They all looked like a super-short skirt until the chick turns around and you realize she's just wearing shorts with some flap over the front. BOO!
Real skirts with shorts sewn inside, on the other hand, are a lot of fun!
As I was saying... BLOG. My ever broken-up, half-assed, sometimes I write- sometimes I don't, but still consistently THERE blog is now here.
Oh dearest google, I pray fervently that blogger will be kind and that we will get along so well like friends; that your formatting is easy and beautiful and most importantly... that it does not fuck up my line breaks in the poems I write.
That's why I broke up with wordpress, it kept fucking with my formatting and my Poems and I could not abide. Poems need specific line-breaks in order to better convey the rhythm of the piece. Now that I've said my piece, I'm done.
Ooooh... and for those few peeps who've been following my blogs and never knew my name outside of botticellibelle, I have very bad news... I just googled botticellibelle (which has been my and solely MY penname for about 10 years now) and there's some other chick on blogger with my name. BOO! She seems all sweet and whatnot, but I am still pissy because this was my name first. There is Chopin on her blog, and she has not written a single thing since December of 2008, when she only started in September... And I thought I was lazy... Geez!
On the bright side, at least she has good taste!
Anyhoo, Hi! my name is Nitya Prem and this is where my blog is.
Over.Earth.Under.Sky
The ceiling in the elevator to my cave in the sky... my old studio above Berbati's Pan
09.26.09
I write of love that was deeper than the space between stars
and as unreachable.
White hot and luminescent, glittering eternally
too bright to hold.
Still, it was my guiding light, my constant joy and sorrow
kept so close.
A bird pressed to firm against a beating heart, even in love
will die.
I lover held too tight must stretch, lest they claw your heart
from your chest.
I've felt the rip of too many bleeding beats keeping time
as daggers.
I've patched up one too many tears from leaking tears
in my footsteps.
My swan's song carried me far below the crashing waves
to rest.
I dwelt in secret hope and hushed fear to see the sun again
and kept to shadow
To the dark went my desires, my pulsing love and fervency
I slept so long.
Golden rays danced upon my skin one day to love again
and pray.
Bright as it is enticing to jump from the earth to heaven
up high.
I braced myself and let the sky smile from above
to me below.
We met somewhere on the horizon between here and there
dusk and dawn.
And I will swim with you over the earth and under sky
to everywhere in between.
A Friendly Wager...
09.25.09
I currently have a bet going on amongst 9 of my friends and I. It was my boyfriend’s idea and after discussing it with our compatriots at the Night Light (one of our favorite hang outs in Portland) we ironed out all the little details and settled on this:
Each of us is to pick what we think is the very worst movie we can find. So as to avoid things like 6 hour student films following the life of microbes, we limited it to movies that can be found inside a Blockbuster store- not online, a physical store, in the Portland area.
Each participant bets a whole ten dollars on their movie, the lucky winner gets a whopping jackpot of $100!
One might ask, what defines the worst movie? Obviously not any B (or even C) horror films like Bog Creatures, these have proven entertainment value- at least you can laugh at them, right? We’re talking about true mediocrity here, the movies that put you right to sleep (although, that could be a good thing if you’re an insomniac), the movies that make you shrug your shoulders in cold, cold indifference that make you think, “Who is responsible for this piece of shit, this complete waste of resources? I’d rather stare at my popcorn ceiling for two hours than ever again watch this tripe!” That kind of movie.
The next problem was, how to watch so many horrible movies without becoming biased? We figured we’d first give everyone two weeks to pick their movie, during which time, nobody is allowed to discuss their choice. Afterward, we’ll get together and watch two movies a week over the next five weeks. That way, we don’t have to watch more than one monstrosity a night. After we watch each movie, we’ll vote independently. No-one is allowed to vote for the film they selected.
At the end of the very last movie, we’ll all probably get together, view the results and get some drinks.
Also, we’ll be rating each one on a 1-10 scale.
This evening I watched Kevin Costner’s truly epic movie, The Postman, for the very first time. Honestly, there were a couple moments when I seriously considered picking it as my entry into our friendly little bet. Unfortunately, we’d probably have too good a time making fun of it, thus nixing it from my list of possibilities… Ce’st la vie!
bad.seeds
09.22.09
Right-O.
There are some people, that no matter how much you love them, disappoint you every time. I try and try so hard, I think, “Well, I do believe I got rid of my last expectations of said person. No WAY I’ll be upset again because of expectations not being met. I expect nothing and will only be happy when they’re around because without any expectations, I can’t be disappointed, right? Right!” and then out of nowhere I’m sad again.
There are some people who will always disappoint… When they’re not surprising you delightfully with unexpected little nuggets of their golden personality.
Still, so sad.
I don’t think it’s healthy to NOT expect anything from anyone. I feel that in doing so, I’m giving up on some sacred hope in humanity that I’m not ready to let go of, just yet. I think that sometimes people should be expected to be steadfast. I feel in not expecting anything of others, that you’re dishonoring them, because, well… I just do.
I feel good when people tell me they know they can rely on me for such and such. I feel good when people come over to my house for dinner and expect a delicious meal. I feel that when someone expects something of you, it’s a good thing, because it shows a strength in character that has already been proven. I would not like to be a blank slate all of the time. I want to play host to other’s expectations of me and sometimes fail, in the knowledge that doing so has given me room to grow.
But if there’s nothing there but room to grow, than what is there, really? A seed that doesn’t start is no good at all. A seed that doesn’t start disintegrates into dirt when planted, all the sunshine and water in the world won’t make a bad seed grow.
My growth may be choppy, I might have stunted in the frost and not borne as much fruit as one would hope… But I still stretch for that sunshine and soak in the rain.
I don’t want to cry over spent seeds anymore, I’d really like to watch my flowers grow.
Russet.smoothie
Life’s been running like a roller-coaster lately; hard, fast, topsy-turvey and steel everywhere. I’m on some sort of Mr. Toad’s wild ride where the turns come so quick, I can’t tell what’s around the bend but it doesn’t stop it from coming… not by a long shot.
I feel as though I’m finally starting to come into my own, like the Universe said, “Well guys, she’s ready. Let’s throw her some LIFE!” and BLAMMO!
It’s been a long time since, I’ve been this happy with my life, my creativity, my friends and this whole crazy nutshell kind of world…
On a side note: I am making smoothies and they are SO incredibly delicious!
A couple of my favorite people, Happy and Maquette are getting married on July 4th; they’re having a Victorian Steampunk wedding… How cool is that? I’m still trying to figure out what in the world I’m going to wear, I’m sure I’ll think of something just right. They are the first of my good friends to get married and I am so excited for them! It’s also (obviously) got all kinds of thoughts swimming around in my head like, “What kind of wedding would I like to have someday?” and “Am I really such a silly girl as all that?”
Turns out, I am. I am just as silly, goofy, romantic, tee-hee-hee as the rest of them. Also bad-ass. Always also bad-ass, but I suppose that doesn’t come out as much when is mushy girlie situations.
I’m going to go eat my delicious lunch now: Hefeweisen pork sausage with grilled onions, sauerkraut, horseradish (I am a good Rusyn girl) and grilled rosemary russet potatoes…. and peach, berry, banana SMOOTHIE!
To be Home Again, So Soft in my Bed
06.25.09
I arrived in Eugene the morning before last, driven down from Portland by a gregarious photographer named, Van. Seemingly appropriate, I appropriated a ride from Van on Craigslist… gotta love that rideshare. We talked the two hours down in amicable discussion and am pleased to report that I got my first paid photo-shoot ever… Thanks Van!
We turned onto Nectar Way, pulled into a long driveway and met Mr. Michel Savage of Grey Forest– who has requisitioned me to model for this Sci-Fi project he’s working on called, Hellbot. His studio is cozy, the grounds are green forests and I almost expect to see precocious little faeriebugs peeking above every leaf and zipping through the branches. I was rather apprehensive about posing nude so he could transform me into some faerie or other, but relaxed into the process… kinda? I believe I’ll be either a red pixie sprite or some sort of dryad by the time I’m done. I felt a little awkward posing, not that I’m all that self-conscious or anything… It’s just that I went to a tanning booth to even out my tan lines for the shoot…
The first time went fine, everything was a little smoother. The second time (two days later) wasn’t so fortunate, I came out of the booth pleased with my 14 minutes of radiant meditation, pleased as pink to be traveling the next day for a photoshoot… Until I sat down a couple hours later and realized that my bum was a little ouch. One glance in the mirror revealed a bottom as rosy red as a baboons’ ass! It looked like I’d been a very naughty girl and someone had spanked me magenta with a large paddle… Not so great for the happy frolicking faerie.
That was my inspiration for a fire pixie, I thought maybe he can just turn all of me red; a crimson pixie with a pissed off attitude who is in no mood for more spankings! After photoshoot (he’ll “paint” them later, the pictures are for reference) and dinner, we took a dip in the hot-tub which further (momentarily) inflamed my already bright buttocks. We watched, Silent Hill which was an interesting horror movie, I found out from my friend, Alain the next day that it was adapted from a video game.
In the morning I had a bagel, soaked in the hot-tub and got some more reading done. I’m reading Atlas Shrugged and I’m not sure that it’s nearly as bad as my best friend thinks it is, but we’re all entitled to our own opinions. On the other hand, I am not yet half-way through, so there is plenty of time for me to become frustrated to the point of pelting the book across the room when I finish (like Tabitha).
Day two involved shooting for the Sci-Fi project he’s working on called, Hellbot. It’s about some scavenger chick flying through the universe in the hunk o’ junk spaceship her daddy gave her. She hears rumors of a belly-up settlement planet who’s terraforming went berserk and turned the whole thing to dust… er… sand, like Arrakis, Tattoine, the Sahara… desert. So she hops out of her ship and goes searching for sweet, sweet H2O.
Through unfortunate circumstance she’s knocked out and left stranded in the middle of the desert, far away from her ship and without her guns, or any scrap of clothing. Our naked heroine journeys across the sand-dunes, finds an abandoned building and a scrap of fabric that she secures around her person, meets a friendly droid and sees some weird shit… To be continued.
So, the goal here was getting some epic shots that he can later super-impose against a desert background and make me look all bad-ass sci-fi babe looking for a little clothed comfort.
I ate salad, watched some Jim Henson’s Storyteller stories and generally chilled out the rest of the day, in anticipation of getting to see some sweet pictures once they’re all colored-me-pretty. Now we’re off to do a little photoshoot for a local jeweler in Eugene, meet up with my ride and head on out!
by: Michel Savage
In closing, I would like to state that I miss my boyfriend more than I thought I would and am super-stoked to see him again on Sunday night so we can cuddle up all sweet and happy… mmmmmm happy cuddletime!
Also, I kinda miss the little doggy pooches with whom I live. Oscar and Willie may be very silly dogs, but they are sweet and I would very much like to take them on a long walk.
My Lonely, Invisible, Dream
06.16.09
Yesterday was really rough… I’m not sure why exactly, I mean, I suppose I have my reasons but my reasons make me feel like I’m self-centered or wallowing in my own little self-pity party. But I suppose everyone needs the allowance of understanding sometimes, even from oneself.
I’ve been feeling a little lonely lately, disappointed in my friends. I found a guy (G) and it was a nice transition with minimal “No, I can’t do that tonights.” It seems that without really doing anything myself, I’ve been labeled by my friends as… In boyfriend land. Which has resulted in so many less invitations to go do stuff. Now, I do spend a fair amount of time with the G, but not enough to warrant being brushed off by those dear to me. It makes me really sad and I spent so much of yesterday on the verge of tears alone in my house while my G was at work and I felt so ignored.
I think part of this comes from the fact that I had so very few friends growing up. Being raised by wandering hippies, I didn’t spend a whole year in the same school from 2nd until 8th grade. That’s six years of going to at least 2, sometimes 4 schools a year. I did not have time to make friends. Additionally, I was raised by hippies, always the, “new girl” and relentlessly teased by my classmates. They’d sometimes spend an entire recess chasing me around the schoolyard, calling me names and throwing things at me. I learned to run really fast as a little girl!
Last night I had a bad dream. It started off well enough, battling forces of evil and whatnot- that’s what I usually do in my dreams, save people; this would probably be my Messiah Complex acting up, but that’s a story for another day which probably (coincidentally) coincides with me being picked on all the time growing up.
Anyhoo, I was riding around the park/bar with a my best friend, two other ladies and some guy and we were all talking to eachother… kinda. More like they were all talking and I was being ignored. They’d say something and I’d have a response to contribute and they’d just kinda look at me and then continue on with whatever it was they were talking about. At one point, I had some glorious pearl of a little story that related so well with what they were discussing and I tried to tell them. Every time I’d only get the first sentence out before they’d start talking over me again and I was seemingly invisible.
–Note: Seemingly invisible is bad for a Leo… There are few worse things for such natural borne leaders/gregarious types than to feel completely ignored… Seriously, just about the worst thing ever.
To continue, this happened about four times, me trying to join my friends in conversation and each time, them going on about their business without me. I got exceedingly frustrated, got out of the cart without anybody noticing and went to our favorite bar in the park on this series of patios surrounded by lush greenery. One side of the main patio ended in a wall of lustrous hanging vines with leaves and soft flowers, it was an amazing sight. Cornering the wall of foliage, was a bar that ran the length of the Patio and it seems that we were regulars there. Adjoining the aforementioned patio was a smaller one a couple steps down, with a little table.
The trio, my best friend and some guy got there just behind me, clamored out of the golf-cart looking car-amajig and proceeded to the bar, where there was a photographer waiting for all of us to do a photo-shoot. Well, It turns out I was invisible again because the photographer collected them all up, dressed them in such pretty clothes and started shooting everyone except me. I went up to try and make my presence known but they just gave me dirty looks and ignored me again.
Feeling slighted yet again, I figured I’d just go home when I ran into a friend from my comedy troupe. He was pretty busy, but had the time to chat with me a little on my way off and that helped me feel a little better, but I was till deeply hurt by the mean looks and uncaring behavior of my best friend.
When I woke up this morning I curled up into my lover’s arms and recounted to him my dream. “Looks like your dealing with some friend issues.” I look up, wide-eyed and still a little sleepy, moan a, “yeeeaahh.” and nestled into his warmth again.
With all the acquaintances and friends I’ve made since I got out of high school I sometimes forget that I was a very lonely little girl. She’s still there inside and sometimes she comes out and I spend a day crying for her. Mostly I am writing this so she’ll leave me alone (how ironic) today and I can just sit and paint and be productive without feeling that (unwarranted?) sense of self pity.
So guys and gals, oh friends of mine- I just want to let you know that you’re really important to me and I very much love you…
Downtown, where the wild bums grow
06.15.09
It’s always colder downtown- I did not realize, until I moved into the sunshine. Downtown is an ever cloudy day grey in the twilight of her years. She’s a bag lady carting around second-rate treasures murmuring sermons, “Could you give me a quarter?”
White hair jerking hands and jittering speech, downtown will tell your future in the bottom of Starbuck’s coffee cups. Downtown will read your past in the stock market and smell your present in the cracks on the side-walk, overflowing with cigarette butts and stale urine.
Grandfather Time measures success in crusted vomit on the side of the street; an executive’s sixth martini. The frat boys drank vodka redbulls last night, but it’s their girlfriend’s kamikazes staining the curb.
I speak of just before dawn and far after sunset, the interim that knows no bounds. Here is in between, the bustle of the business day when all proud Americans are safely locked in their cubicles and corner offices, the urban dirt and decay. Here is the liver after moonlight when all good party boys and pop princesses retire into eachother’s arms to boff the night away.
I see, I say, my friends, what a day!
I have a confession to make: I almost completely forgot about my blog… It has been floating around in the murky waters of my guilty subconcious for the past two months or so. ..
HOLD ON A MINUTE… THIS IS REALLY PISSING ME OFF, let me explain: I have tried many times now to use the apostrophe button on my keyboard and EVERY FUCKING time I touch it, some pain in the ass “quickfind” bar POPS up on the bottom of my window! This is really irritating!
Figures that I remember my blog only to have my experience destroyed by some quirk in modern technology that is supposed to (no doubt) make my life easier.
I do NOT want quickfind. I signed up for no quickfind. Turn off the FUCKING quickfind!!!
As I was saying: Have performances with Cosmic Lee (there is supposed to be an apostraphe here)s Intergalactic Traveling Show.
Have Open Mic Night (Myriad Monday) every monday at ten pm at Bar XV in downtown Portland.
Almost had art show, the owner of Berbati fell ill and his daughter was oh-so-stressed so Tabitha and my art show for June is no more.
Have boy… er… man… er One stupendous GUY! His name is Graham and we have been dating for two months now. As I would really like to NOT jinx this one, I am now shutting up. Be warned, he is AWESOME! … Come to think of it, he is also probably one very large reason that I have not been writing so much as of late. I write less when I am happy. Notice the absence of apostrophies in my oh so correct english.
POOP ON YOU QUICKFIND!
peace,
I am out!
Pack it up, pack it in, let me begin...
03.16.09
I have not been living in the luxurious (ha!) Western Rooms apartments for an entire month now.
I almost miss living above the three most fantastic bars in downtown Portland. I really miss my cozy little cave in the sky. I miss my kitchen OH so much, it is packed away in boxes half at one house and half in another. I also miss my wall-hangings and altar, the books, the mass of creativity immediately available to my curious fingers in my little art-nook. I have been staying at a friend’s house and as they are so gracious for letting me use their couch- I have no real complaints.
I’ve been working so hard toward unemployment that the not receiving such and still no job has been pretty brutal on my happy-go-lucky psyche. I was talking to my father in tears over said situation and he says to me, “Are you still on birth-control? I think you should stop that because it is making you overly emotional.” POO on that, I say. I have let my parental unit know that the anti-baby medication really has nothing to do with it. Also, I seem to be dealing with things pretty well, given circumstance and I am absolutely allowed to break down and cry during said time of change…. so take that!
p.s. I did taxes. I will get monies back, which can be used to rent a room in a lovely communal housing arrangement. So, if anybody out there would like to rent a room to this wonderfully qualified (did I mention I love to cook?), vivacious and generally happy-go-lucky person (me!)… both of my friends will be eternally grateful and momentarily indebted to your oh-so-kind soul.
broken.dreams
04.16.09
I’m so very tired of broken dreams
helpless as they fall away into a million pieces
and I watch them break down with me
to sink into that nothing I know so well
I remember my only nightmare
wherein my teeth crumble inside my mouth
I spend the whole night spitting
broken bits into my hand like gravel
This time it’s my life that scares me so
my job, apartment, happiness and confidence
shattered into a million tiny pieces
with every other tooth in America’s Shit-eating grin.
Valentine.peach.fuzz
02.14.09
It’s not that I’m bitter, really.
Just a little sad, kinda blurry around the edges.
I’m the embodiment of Monet’s painting
as I fade around and into my day
Waking life and walking dream
for this moment I emulate peach fuzz,
not to be told where it begins or ends
but sweet beneath, juicy soul.
To ripen in the sun once more
Cast aside Saint Valentine’s cloudy shackles
resurrect into sunshine this gloom
I will burst into linten faeries.
Drifting here and there, soft haze
will dance light until people sneeze full of me
spreading blessings contagion
we will all melt together today.
The Lucky One
02.13.09
I’m staying with friends right now until I can get back on my feet… and they haz cats! Usually they are so sweet sisters to eachother but today, on Friday the 13th they got into a little catfight. I wrote a poem about it!
The Lucky One
One cat sat by the purse, staring intently on a slender leather strap
the dark one looks on from a distance, silently waiting, looking back
Until the lucky one attacks nibbling on soft tanned cow-hide
Of the moon she comes, swift to swipe her feline friend aside
The lucky one, she snips fierce and swift, accurate with her teeth
and deftly turned by luna’s side-seen paw tufted with talons underneath
and quicker than the eye can see, this cat fight stops to glare
one eye into the other match as Lucky does not mean to share
Luna raises paw again to raise the stakes once more
then Lucky darts upon her prize beneath the table on the floor
She triumphs rolling in leapord skin, pink and stuffed with catnip glee
As Luna sidles demurely back to observe her rivals’ victory
Oh! Those Blues that Swirl in my Head
01.30.09
I’ve reached another one of those low points in my life. I’ve been trying like hell to break this cycle for years now… somewhere around 8 years. hmmm… Doesn’t seem to get any easier, really. I’m lost, confused, I feel like I am incapable of making correct decisions or managing my life. Precipice. That’s a good word for these times. Teetering. It seems to me that when things get very hard and I think that the universe is going to throw me a bone at any moment, they get worse. More difficult. I’m trying so very hard to let go of my ego. I thought I’d demolished it pretty well, but I still cling to things like a drowning rat escaping a leaky ship. Glub, glub, glub.
Oh, what a hole. I want to be independent but it seems that the more I strive toward independence, the more I find myself dependent on others. I want to be part of a collective, I want to be part of a whole. I want to inspire people and help them smile. I want to be that source of sunshine that so many people have come to think of when they imagine me. Do they spend days crying too? Wallowing in self-pity when they know it’s the worst thing for them at that moment? Maybe I’m just trying to get it all out so I can move on. Because I certainly need to move on.
But my head is so fuzzy with seemingly conflicting bits of information, it’s a data storm up there and all I see are colors standing out and overlapping, blending into dusty greys and weirdest off-beat browns. There’s blue in there too, a veritable ocean of deep blues, that calm and confuse my reds. Funny also that I have two distinct colors in my head that swarm around but never mix to purple… Well, they are now. I suppose I should be thankful at least, for this oh so vivid imagination that conjures images with the slightest protuberance.
If only I could sit back all day long and look at the pretty colors in my head. The goal, I suspect, is to take all those colors and unleash them on the world in varying shades of compassion and love. I can do that, I think… With a little bit of that underrated motivation…
MOTIVATE ME SELF MOTIVATE!
GO!
star.chart
01.05.09
silently in wonder at the brightness in you.
Encompassing worlds of sentient delight,
I always meant to gander at the implicitude of it all
and was yet unprepared for such a sight.
and was yet unprepared for such a sight.
Now, I think with vision grown
grand enough to break my peace
by piece within.
This colossal orb of prescience
engulfs futile neighboring stars.
Pinpoints glowing for naught
that I can any longer glean,
so away with meaningless symmetry
of bodies juxtaposed in inconsequential play.
For there is a universe on the horizon
whose spirit is known but territory unexplored
and I find myself graciously seated,
Mon Capitan, to steer a course
hopshod through uncharted bliss!
waiting.bruise
01.05.09
As I watch the sky turn from slate grey to navy blue
meandering green in the middle,
my thoughts form to fill the spots in-between
sworn lover’s vows ringing in the firmament
this cool, dark air leaves me wondering
I’d rather love balmy words blithely pronounced
on naked evening’s revelry
whispered most fair in earnest covenant.
But the spaces barely there expound come morning
seeping memory in shades of deepest bruise.
Unrepugnant Dreams
01.25.09
The smoke still burns
little wisps floating
through the air
fascinate each other
dancing vibrant streams
melting through time.
Cordially uncoordinated
avatar daze
hazes beyond cardinal
melancholic aftermath.
This Saturnine relation
of fiberglass integration
speaks arias searing
pure crystal clear
hopes and unrepugnant dreams.
Smells Like Change
I smell it in the air, a deep earthy base wafting through shades of spring green, ever luminent in inevitable springtime glee. A change is comin’ a Big ol’ whirlin sorta change that blows the dust out from under the rug, the kinda change could make a person think. Well hell, I’m thinkin’ already. Thinkin’ on just how much change could fill such a big distance as I see agapin’ right in front of me.
I stand in front of an empty horizon, armed with my creativity, intelligence and most importantly love. I’ve got enough love to fill that canyon right ahead, fill it to overflowing into starshine, I will… Agape. A love so big that you feel it for everything because your so grateful just to be here, in this moment, the one that matters….
Because all moments matter and I found my cajones. They were a little harder for me to locate than others, I reckon. Seein as how I’m part of the sweeter sex of womanfolk who were blessed by sweet God with peepee on the inside. Back down south in the soul slingin’ Sonoran desert, cajones is what you pacnorth people call balls. Gumption.
Well, I’m not afraid of fallin’ anymore ’cause I think I’ve just about hit the bottom enough in my life to have developed one tough ass. And this ass is not going to not do something because she’s afraid it won’t work. Or worse, that it will. I strapped my carpenter’s hammer on the other day and after spending a lot of time tearin’ shit down, I’m gonna build something. I’m going to build something true and beautiful and happy, I’m gonna build myself a life.
I’m workin’ on doin’ what I’ve been talkin’ about for years now. Doin’ something I love all the way down to my bleached red in the desert sun bones- I’m gonna get myself an art show…. 
tee hee heeeeee! I’m goin’ on auditions. I got myself two photoshoots comin’ up. I’m part of a performing comedy troupe (Cosmic Lee’s Intergalactic Traveling Show) and I got me an open mic night (Bar XV every monday).
My well-defined nose is positioned way up in the air to sniff me out some opportunity and not because I’ve got rent to pay (ouch) but because I just want to do what I do well. I want to utilize the gifts the maker gave me to fill the space in this world that’s waitin’ just for me. I’ve been workin’ on it for 25 years now and those colored pencils were fun and all, but I’m bringing out the acrylics to now… So I can finally have something to share with the world and all those brilliant people that I’m fortunate enough to have met and love so much!
Not Enough Pillows
This is my children's story :) My friend is illustrating it. Maybe you'll be able to buy it in a shop soonish...
Bunch, pat, poke and fluff! No matter how Laralee squished her only pillow, it just wasn’t right. She did NOT have enough pillows to help her sleep tonight. After wrestling with her blankets, trying to make them round, Laralee gave up and put on a frown. Slowly rumbling, tumbling around, she knocked her pillow under her bed. Stretching, reaching and squirming, she fell underneath. Fell and fell going down, down, down, she wondered where she would land until…
Plop! She found herself in a very big cave on top of an even bigger pile of pillows. Big ones, small ones, striped, spotted and paisley, she had never seen so many pillows in her life! “I wonder who is the lucky person that has all these lovely pillows? Surely they would not mind if I just took a couple.” Laralee grabbed two beautiful pillows, one purple like the sunset and another as white and fluffy as her kitty named Cloud.
Laralee climbed down the mountain and when she reached the bottom, she saw a glowing silver path winding in-between hills and mountains of more pillows than she had ever dreamed of. “Since this is the only path, it must lead home!” Laralee said aloud into the dim light.
Laralee suddenly found herself surrounded by guards and each one of them wore armor made of pillows. One was pink from head to toe, one was red, another was blue, and another green, but each and every one of them looked very, very mean. “Arrest that girl! She’s a thief, stealing from the prince!” The guards took away Laralee’s pillows, one purple and one white and dragged her off into the night.
After walking for what seemed like forever, the guards brought her in front of Prince James. He was just a little bit older than Laralee and definitely in charge. The guards told him how they caught the little girl stealing his precious pillows. Laralee spoke up, “I did not know they belonged to you, I just could not sleep and only took two…” “Silence!” yelled the prince, “You must be punished!” Laralee began to cry and told Prince James how she had fallen from under her bed.
The prince was very curious and asked her all about her home and friends in the land above. “I live in a big house with my dad and my cat, Cloud. I have a bunch of friends and we like to play games.” The prince asked Laralee what kind of games she played and if she would teach him some. “In the Land of Pillows,” Prince James said, “there is a lot of sleep and naps and stories, but not so many games and I get lonely and bored.” Laralee agreed to teach the prince as many games as she knew and followed him to his back yard. Laralee taught him how to play Hopscotch and Tag, she taught him how to play Rock, Paper Scissors and Ring Around The Rosey. They had so much fun that even the guards played with them!
At the end of the night Prince James had so much fun that he told Laralee that if she played King of the Mountain with him, she could go home and have as many pillows as she wants. The guards took Laralee and the prince to the big mountain of pillows that she had fallen on when she first got there. “I have always wanted to play, but I never knew how. If I win this game then I will finally be a King and a prince no more,” said Prince James. In no time at all Prince James was on top of the mountain, throwing pillows down at everyone and no-one else could touch him. Laralee looked up at prince and bowed beautifully, “You win. I now declare you King of the Mountain and King James of the land of pillows!”
After all those games, Laralee was very tired and she yawned and yawned; “May I please go home now, King James? I am sleepy and I do not want my daddy to worry about me.” James gave Laralee a big hug and told her, “If you ever want to come play games with me again, you are welcome to visit any time you like.”
Laralee made a very soft bed on her two favorite pillows. One was as purple as the sunset; and the other was white and fluffy, just like her cat, Cloud. Soon she fell up into a very peaceful sleep.
As Laralee woke up and rubbed the sleepy from her eyes, she remembered a land of pillows, many-colored guards and a prince who is now a King. “It must have all been a dream.” she thought to herself. When Laralee hopped out of bed, she was surprised to her pillows on the floor, one purple and one white, with her kitty, Cloud sleeping right on top. It must not have been a dream after-all!
abundance
written: 01.10.09
Oh! indescribable joy to to him which guides my beating heart,
overflowing my cup with pure, abundant love.
I am overcome by the immensity of this feeling inside that relates to you
Speaks softly in my ear and shouts from the rooftops,
“I love you.”
For my love too, is great as all the saltwater in the earth,
brimming with life and plentiful beyond compare.
I once tried to chop it up and dole it out to many, unprepared
One taste is never enough and none could be satiated with
a broken love.
Looking into you, looking into me I saw a soul deep and willing,
veritable fathoms craving to encompass and return such bliss.
Never before have I met a man who could hold so much as an inch
of this warmth and light which is given unconditionally,
“I love you.”
I stand to willingly weather the brave storms that life will serve,
with a partner as apt, as ready, we could steer those waters.
Let’s float to my little red island swimming in a sea of dreams
to caress our souls openly and stargaze on each other
in bountiful love.
words.words.words
written: 01.08.09
Words words words… They hit me like a spear being thrown by a Zulu warrior in the depths of Africa- fast, piercing and straight through the head; hurled into my skull cavity so hard I was stopped dead in my tracks, still standing and agape at the world… And somehow, I’m still here.
I’m always still here, inside a tepid nucleus miasma- clear and sticky gellstuff, sometimes shining brightly but mostly just present.
I don’t know how to reiterate who I am.
I don’t know what to make of America’s Three Ring Circus Society and how in the hell I’m supposed to squeeze in. Am I operating lights? flying trapeze? It certainly feels like it lately. Maybe I’m shoveling mountains of elephant shit in the sweltering shade of hot trunk breath… whatever it is- I sure don’t feel like the Ringmaster, because I think he ran away and left us all playing; children in an empty house with all the grown-ups in town mysteriously disappeared.
I am supposed to be part of society, right? We are all supposed to be in this together, right?
Community.
And then there are words. So few to wonder at why one should bother, too many to sit in one’s head without rattling around… words. At once, prismatic nectar giving my soul cause to breath and space enough to fly; yet strange in my head unsettling what tremulous equilibrium I manage. My faith in humanity falters with each fluttering eye movement, prompting wavering keystrokes to make sense of something I can take home.
In regards, I’ve been writing for five years now, prompted by a dying ember nestled in the ashes of a charred heart once smouldering. Can I let the cat out of the bag? (Wait, I’m a leo- that’s funny in a sordid kind of way) I kept that cat in that bag for so long, I wonder that it didn’t suffocate.
I hereby bequeath all my bags to the betterment of my trashcan. Au Revoir, I say- to dying embers and all. I can’t afford any more of that sort of hope; not if I want to wholly love again- which I do.
I really, truly do.
I remember saying that I would never build those sort of walls. I would never erect tall walls of stone about my heart, to keep it safe. Safe from hurt, but also safe from real love- unconditional and scary, crazy, viral love that catches hold and won’t let go; BIG love, so big it won’t fit within any kind of wall and positively permeates your being. No, “I won’t build a wall around my heart” to keep out that kind of love or any kind of love. “My heart will always be free.”
I spent the last three years building just such a wall. An immortal monument to my understanding of self and unwillingness to let anyone that kind of close again for fear of inevitable abandonment.
My wall was solid until someone said, build a door… “Now,” thought I, “There may be a real start.” So I built a door and it was good. I placed a Welcome Mat right outside and after my first visit- well, I was left alone in that big ole’ wall once again. So I left out the Welcome Mat, but locked the door, sure and tight.
Over the past year or so, I’ve been breaking down that colossal wall of mine. I now stand before the last bit of rubble, shamed to have ever let it grow. Because grow it did, and it wasn’t until I was ready to tear it down, that I ever even knew it was there… Goodbye wall.
See now? How I have relinquished my boundaries and stand, willing before the universe? I am stripped bare on a fertile plot of land- surrounded for so long by such cold, and ready at last for some sunshine. I am scared, so very scared, but I am free.
I am done with walls, I am done with them and I will help you break them down. We could all use a little sunshine. I will bring my warhammer, but I won’t swing until I see resolve, sure and sweet with a sledgehammer of your own.
One swing to words my friend, and another for walls, this last swing is for myself; to break my heart once more for good measure- it will save someone else the bother, later.
Because I’m done with broken hearts, too.
Ohm Party Shuffle
01.05.09
Ode to itunes, I say! Sweet perfector of mood and tone, map my vibes today and bless them with highest attitudinal bliss to carry me through my daily meanderings. For to you and you alone do I offer in safekeeping, my melodious tome… ohm party shuffle ohm.
A Qualifying Statement
Written: 05.11.08
Who am I to summarize epochs? What studious accomplishments lend credence to my musings? How could I possibly assume that my opinions hold a modicum of gravity? Others ask me where I get my information, where I read something or how I came across this or that school of thought. My usual response is something along the lines of, “Well… um… I don’t really recall… It… ah… just sort of seems to make sense in my head.”
Usually that works. Sometimes, however, people require qualifying statements, are not able to readily accept original thought. I don’t understand why I must have read something in order for it to be true. Why can’t I just glean from my experience and what I see all around me? Isn’t it a truer path to let the cosmos teach you directly rather than to absorb, second-hand through someone else’s studies?
People do not see. They look for goggles of knowledge that others have made instead of using the true-blue crystal sight gifted them by our innate nature.
Do not ask for my opinion and expect me to quote the tried and true philosophers or intellectuals of any time; expectations are a hotbed for disillusionment and shattered dreams. I will disappoint you. I will not wear your glasses; I will see with my eyes what this world would have me see, naked, cut and utterly intertwined. I will feel what I see, think upon what moves me, and respond unadulterated unfiltered actuality.
I would have you see like you; perceive and fully realize the sallow, abundant, awe-inspiring, gut wrenching, odious grandeur in the minutest tidbits of life. Your cognoscence subconsciously sifts all facets of the world around you, absorbing information and methodically gathering relevance in every shade of the rainbow. The world paints lenses for your ocular accoutrement, a second skin, auditory amplifiers and personal sensory perception with which to view your life.
Somewhere amongst each of our independent and veracious sights our thoughts coalesce into a mandala of all-inclusive and ever-encompassing knowing. With all our individual assessments pulling from the same deep well, how can one not glean universal truths through open perception and reflection on what is experienced? How are not each of us Socrates, Freud or Gandhi?
The Sky I Was Born Under
written: 1.14.08
I was born under the same sky as anyone else. It was a blue sky somewhere between morning and evening. Something I’ve noticed about skies which seems to hold true for people also: all sky is vast, at once bespeckled with clouds and rain in one hemisphere, while clear in another. People too, are vast; immense in out capability for love, sorrow, kindness, hatred, fear. Our possibilities like the sky, are endless.
A vast blue open sky, a blank slate. It is good to be born under the sky, I would’ve like that. I think everyone should be born under a naked sky, so the first thing a baby sees is endless possibility. I wonder if that would help us. If, by being born so, we’d remember our birth. Instead of hospital lights and a masked doctor… and open sky with each star shining. No wonder people don’t remember they’re births, how traumatic most are.
Imagine being born, forced to leave the soft, warm womb, is it like dying? Not knowing why your time in that space is ending, or what will become of you: Suddenly this foreign object comes through as you’re being squeezed out. Is it the hand of God? what’s God? Do you know divinity in the womb? This strange, artificial hand grabbing your head, being pulled by latex through a tine fissure. Are you being strangled? When you finally squeeze through and feel air for the first time, would you think you’ve died?
When did I forget?
Actius Luna- The life story of a Lunar Moth
written: 10.22.08
It’s been dark for so long that I cannot recall what is light.
I am comfortable.
I am unconscious.
Everything I thought I knew is dissipating with the wind I feel outside… so far away from here and yet so close. I am one with a darkness unending, knowing not where it and I separate; in this carapace I am free! I know that I am a prisoner of mine own devices, but I am warm, so warm.
Womblike for an eternity, secure in my solitude, I am God in my sensory deprivation…
Solace is All, until it is all you know; at which point one must grow.
I am barraged by a single sliver of luminescence. It gores my soul and I know not where to hide, for wherever I move I am trapped utterly within a gossamer shell. Seized by involuntary spasms I jolt from within, thunder in my gut wrestling my blinded mind.
I must escape the light!
Turning my weight, I crash behind myself and the light drives me.
It drives me mad.
This one sole enemy is instantaneously transformed into my dearest wish.
I must embrace the light.
Panicking, I convulse. Everything I have ever been- that which I do not recall floods my being in pure unadulterated drive… To breathe the sun once again is more than I can comprehend, and with one last jolt into true consciousness I am thrown into momentarily infinite darkness, before plunging into wild photogasm.
The world is effervescent.
The world… I had forgotten.
Overtaken by the exquisite softness of green and massaging waves of solar benignity, I stay. I thrive and spin emitting olfactory nectars of potent grace in thanks to the brilliance which arrested my soul from dark dubious delight. I dance of primal bodhisattva gratitude to be here and in this moment alive.
Joined by another of my kind, we scintillate toward eachother until we become mandala. Complete unity and biorhythms synchronize to every pulse in creation until separate once more, we fall into the air.
My wings spread out into two dimensional fractals swimming between opposing gales of air and I am carried away into the endless blue. My mate, my lover is forgotten; as the sun and moon borne to different destinies.
I care not.
I have a purpose.
I fly.
I make love to the wind as it gently caresses my body and buffets my flight into rolling delirious fancy. I sink into the sunrise to rest upon a leaf atop a fervent tree. The feel is crushed velvet, the scent, intoxicating. I lay to rest my impulse, my bliss, and my future. Waking to moonlight, I seek the sun once more.
Beneath Luna’s silvery sheen I see ghosts, shadows of the trees and fields and flowers I once knew. The air becomes thick, static with unknown forces of primordial power. Flashes of light in the darkness akin to the sliver of brilliance that jolted my being into existence frighten my souls’ livery. The dampness in the air is stagnant and feels of death.
My survival is teetering on the edge of a vast precipice.
My sanity is failing.
My will is resolute.
I fly.
I fly against the tempestuous current, in-between lakes of water falling from that once sweet refuge of solar delight.
On through the chaos I chase the day glimmering in the distance. Closer I get, drunk on the promise of arid brightness; this one sweet spot of heavenly refuge, a shelter from the storm hidden under artificial canopy, alien, but welcome.
Welcome to familiar shapes coalescing in vibrant blue, electric like the clouds above.
It is only as I fly too close that I know the danger, feel the flame of radiant demise. But I have flown too far and cannot help the hunger for the light that lit my life and as I careen willfully into bright oblivion… I burn.
I burn wholeheartedly with a life short-lived, yet filled magnanimously with unyielding bliss. I surrender resolutely to the crackle of radiant instinct and I am borne away into light and darkness once more.
The seduction of man births me to otherworldly brilliance. But my children will rise as I, come spring, borne with a wild attraction to divine luminosity and blessed with the will to propagate gossamer dreams… if only for a moment.
-Life story of a Lunar Moth
Asshole Americans!
This is an excerpt from my journal when I sold renewable power for a living…. It was a bad day
04.28.08
Excuses all sound the same after you’ve heard enough of them. Every apathetic asshole looks the same. I’ve only been doing this for a month or so and by this point, I don’t think I could hear anything that truly surprises me.
What is it that poisons people’s souls so? What venom deep inside them makes the think its ok, or worse, they’re entitled to spew that bile in my direction? Don’t they on some level inside realize that I’m trying to help? Make life a little more feasible for everyone?
I can’t believe humanity has lost its’ conscience… I can’t lose faith in humanity yet… I will not become one of the jaded masses stuck on a false media IV drip that assures them its ok.
I sill not walk around everyday with the shame in my eyes that I see in theirs. Most of the people who pass me by, or speak to me won’t look me in the eye, let alone drop their wall of guilt to actually listen.
I must get this out in these pages lest I drive my friends away with my grief in humanity, wailed and purged upon their ever-patient ears. I must write these words now, as I should be converting my cheeze-whiz Americas, lest I unleash my forsaken tongue, sharp as nails against their marshmallow-soft pigskin ears. Squeal motherfuckers! Squeal as you drown in your self-made bog of oil, lit ablaze with the coal that fuels your television! Squeal as the fires are quenched with irradiated water pumped straight from your nuclear-tainted water table! Squeal like the overstuffed and under-exercised pigs you are…
The hogs that roll around in mud and cannibalistically eat their butchered friends we feed them have more dignity, more compassion and more honor…
I digress… what a shame to have spent this ink and these pages railing against a heartless people. I have hope yet. I know kindness in this world and I would choose to spend my energy toward the betterment of sentient life. I’ll leave the bitching to the critics, media and politicians…
I’m putting my smile back on!
My Wide-Eyed Dream
written:02.09.07
My Wide-Eyed Dream is for happiness, and harmony in love. The earth, cosmos, sentient life, planetary bodies, elements, universes, thoughts… Basically for everything to exist in gentle equilibrium.
I dream for everything that has been, is and could be. Together.
How many ways can I say the same thing?
Infinite.
I’ve dreamed of celebrations, far-off places, different races, people with no faces. When my reality is chased away, dreamy visions of night-times stay.
The way things reflect in me is more than I ever thought I’d see.
To see with my eyes, to fully realize the potential of each soul’s potent portal to transverse, immerse and converse with infinity about our infinite reality and ability to BE.
Be what you are, an ever-shooting star.
Reach for the furthest sights with your site dead-on, akin to a very ancient rite.
I write to cite my imagery and open-ness, my soul to see the light.
Alight, I burn to smoldered senses. I need to know you know we’re all part of this sacred dance, of this I chant enchanting rant not to be defiant or polite.
But police yourself to share your wealth if it’s monetary, monastic, moralistic, artistic, athletic, poetic, rhetoric, I’m for it!
Because I know we all feel the need to bleed for our cause and expound our flaws. Flawlessly convert alert to inert.
Inertial fantasy believes in me to conceive the weave of time spinning on a dime in the center of the galaxy of my mind in this rhyme of that kind of menagerie of all those inside of me inside of you of the other, each other, together we weather the course of our wide-eyed dreams.
The Wendt
written:10.13.08
The large crumbling castle on top of the bluff overlooks the ocean on one side and a forest on the other. Continually buffeted by wind and rain, I work in the central tower, closest to the magic and master who is never there. He has a Wendt, which is believed to be his power, made flesh. My co-workers thought to capture him one day.
They’ve all been going stir-crazy lately, wanting to revolt in the castle; take it and the magic over for themselves, thinking somehow they’d be able to manage it all. I, typically run about, make sure the central tower staff is getting their work done (even though they may not understand it) and leaving in a timely fashion. The leaving is key. Only when they are gone do I begin to feel myself, and only as I begin to feel myself, I have to go. The Master won’t come home until he’s sure the entirety of the Tower staff has departed, this includes me.
Avoiding traps, waterfalls and slipping on cold, wet stone, I make my way through long, curved corridor leading toward the courtyard and the rest of the castle. Underneath the bridge, water falls in a sheet through a gap in the boards and every time I pass this way I am drawn to walk straight through it. Knowing that doing so would get me soaked and I’d probably catch a cold on the way to my quarters, I push this childish notion out of my mind and step around, like always. Contrary to popular belief that the tower is falling apart, it was built like this on purpose. Although why, and why I know these things, I have no idea.
Around the bend I see the Tower staff who should’ve been home by now, wrestling with a tall, dark, masked figure. By way of Branston screaming at me I am notified that they have captured the Master’s power and the castle is now ours. I ask him calmly, how he expects to release such from our dear friend, the Wendt here. Who isn’t even him really… it’s Bildy, in a mask. Removing the mask, Bildy slumps at my touch. I cannot fathom what his mind was thinking dressing up like that, when the real Wendt comes down the spiral stairs.
Wendt is tall and lean with a slick mop of chestnut brown hair, very much like mine own but cropped around his jaw line. He wears a wooden mask, stoic in expression and is covered from head to toe in black leather, form indefinable.
Wendt avoids all attempts at capture effortlessly, leaving our little make-shift mob bruised on the ground from accidentally hitting eachother rather than their target. Addressing his would-be captors Wendt clears any confusion regarding his station, “I’m not any sort of magic really, I have no control and can do nothing without my master to guide me. I am hired fire, useless alone, go home, go eat dinner, leave me be… and do let the lackwit bucket boy go.” Indicating Bildy, still tied up against a wall.
He waits, leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairwell, while I move everyone out of the vicinity. I find myself stopped, staring at the sheet of water falling from above, again as I’m on my way. I’ve just made up my mind again to walk around when I feel the Wendt’s breath beside my ear, “You hear it calling to you, step through.” I feel him pressed against my back, walking me into the downpour, cold, saturating, inviting.
Walking through a sheet of ice-water, falling on you from hundreds of feet up feels like being sliced down the middle with a razor in a thousand different places all at once… So sharp, it’s serene and so cold that I’m warm, tingling all over from every pore in my body, which is not as heavy as I remember and being pulled, ever so gently into Wendt’s awaiting arms. Escorting me up the stairs, he whispers words I don’t understand under his breath, which at this moment is steam.
It’s not until I’ve been laid down, ever so gently on the masters’ bed in his quarters at the top of the tower that I can see straight again. However, when I look around me, at the hands softly caressing my body and the mask which is supposed to belong to those hands… I am startled to be seeing double. The Wendt is sitting on the bed, sans mask, with my head in his lap, blonde hair falling around his startling blue eyes; while also leaning against the entryway and also sans mask, with hair black as jet, matching eyes- deep and piercing my soul. It’s only after this first initial shock that I am surprised to see myself laying next to me with blonde hair I don’t ever recall having. I am solid. I smile at me, who turns to gesture at Black Wendt by the door, who comes obligingly, holding my sight the whole time.
I realize hazily that Master and I are of the same ilk, connected by some old current running deeper than history’s recent memory. By looking into his eyes I have found myself. I know that my smiling blonde me is the body- the link that ties my subconscious magic self to earth. Together, with brown hair, we are one seemingly normal person. When we shift she, a wendt holds the soul safe for me, while I- beholden of ivory skin, ink black hair and raven eyes, can slip between worlds and channel forces beyond reckoning. I too, am a Master and if my wendt dies, the silly beautiful creature that she is, I will also cease to exist.
An hour ago, less than that, even… The idea that I would be two of me, here, with two of him would have struck me as very strange, indeed… downright implausible, even. Yet, somehow this all seems to make perfect sense, except for the fact that Master is wearing what appears to be horizontally rainbow striped full-body pajamas under his black leather jerkin.
Wonders never cease.
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