misstree okay, this is going to be just a random rambling about this weekend in the woods, i apologize for taking up blather space, but if you really don't care, then stop reading now. otherwise you have been warned, and duly lost your ability to bitch, even in your own mind. so there, nyah nyah.

i went out with this group called nero. it's kind of like live action dungeons_and_dragons. i've done both swordfighting (with boffer swords with dagorhir/belegarth/combat club/those thugs i hang with) and live action role playing (larp), mostly vampire, with a few other white_wolf games and a two-session cthulu blowout.

hmm. that probably still left a lot of you confused. let me break it down another level.

a bunch of people go out into the woods, in this case a girl scout camp. (heh. heh heh heh heh. heh. girl_scouts.) everyone has a character they're playing (an elf mage or a gypsy fighter or whatnot), they hang about and wheel and deal and kill things and heal people and just pretend to be someone else for the whole weekend. and wear funny clothes. one must not forget the funny clothes.

okay. there's about twenty directions i could go here, but i think chronological is the way to go. if you're still here, buckle in for a hell of a ramble, because this might take a while.

as i said, i've been doing things similar to this for a while, and enjoyed the heck out of it. i had run into two wonderful peoples that i know from way back, cat and bo, on previous occasions, and they *really* wanted to drag me out. note that i said they were wonderful people. like, the kind that make me happy they exist because they bring up the cool level of the rest of the universe. anyhow, they said that, and i lost track of them for a while, but cat just started being able to come out to goth_night again. so she sez to me, "when are you going to come out and play nero?" and i, who have recently been losing the desire to go to the other swordfighting shiznit because of a series of long stories, say "next event, let me know, i'm there."

so the next tuesday, she says, "well, there's one this weekend." and we make plans to go, she's very excited, i'm very excited, she's going to bring me in as another gypsy, etc. gave her contact info, she says she'll call me thursday.

wednesday and thursday are spent in a sleep-deprived anticipatory state of high anxiey. i am going to go out and hang in the woods in a completely unfamiliar situation with a bunch of people i don't know and one, maybe two, that i do. this kinda freaks me out. i also have to step into combat situations (which i haven't done for a year) and be ready to role play, with no information about the world and no idea what kind of character i'm going to play.

thursday, kat says she might not be able to go. that she probably won't be able to go. that she *sigh* almost certainly won't be able to go. BUT! there's this person that i've met once or twice that's going out there, and he can give me a ride and set me up and things.

now, i'm told that many people would have chickened out here. many people don't have the hatred for boredom and ruts that i do, nor the desire to thwap people with sticks while wearing funny clothes. so she's going to contact me on friday morning, and that group will probably leave around 5pm.

the ex and i are doing coffee that night (compund stress? nooooo.....), and we come up with a character concept that combines gypsies and ogres in really cool ways and fits my clothing and the personality i want to portray. i get some ogre languace to memorize. i pack while in a distinctly uncomfortable hypercaffeinated hyperstressed state.

the next day, squeak and outlander come by to help me run around and do things and procure things, and by 4:15 i have spent over $100 and still haven't heard from cat. at 4:23 she calls, gives me sandy's number, apologizes for the lateness, and wishes me luck. i'll abbreviate here and say that leaving involved many misadventures and one pissed off cabbie and getting lost on the way there, but here is this: when the 3 guys showed up, i realized i had met all of them the last time i saw bo (1.5 years ago), and that they also helped up the cool quotient in the world.

i'm going to end this now, because distraction calls mightily, but i'll pick up at arrival. i promise it gets at least a little interesting. okay, no, i don't promise. i promise that it's interesting to me. no other guarantees.
misstree just a quick note, it feels very strange to be back to blathering after my complete and blissful disconnection from reality this weekend. i was talking to real people! a bunch of them! and the strange men that took me out to the woods were k00l as hell! *sigh* good time was had, suffering post-event depression, don't mind me. 030921
misstree i'm sorry, my brain is fried, i need to tell these stories to other people so i can truly hop about and wave my arms in an interesting fashion to explain my point and tangent wildly and have them make me fill in the gaps and things. apologies to my suspenseful reader. singular. someone got suckered in to this endless ramble, i like to tell myself. :P 030921
misstree okay, my lazy-ass-bitch-card is still valid, so i'm going to play it on this one.

i emailed bits and pieces of the story to my coworker, i'm editing it down (both for length and content, and there's nothing you can do about it. :P ) i just want this done so i can be apathetic with no self-imposed obligations hanging over me.

so i get into a car with a total stranger to go into the woods and "swordfight". ya. i had duct tape and rope. they had duct tape and thwacking sticks. they reassured me that bo would be there; i had some sort of anchor, and that's all i wanted.

so we go, patrick and i get lost, have a great time doing it, and finally arrive around 8:00 or 8:30. standing about at check-in was had by me, introduced to another person or two, then we headed towards the cabin area to find bo.

i'm going to pause here for a description of the campground. it was a girl scout camp, with cabins like i said. there was a main hall in the center, and the whole thing was cut off from the parking lot and sign-in hut by a bridge. off to the, i think north, were a bunch of paths leading up into the hills, where there were different fire pits and girl-scout structures and such, just good unpolulated ground for getting one's intoxication going.

actually, i'm going to pause here to stare at my computer and maybe process a claim or two. more in a moment.


i guess i should babble more about the event. so, ya, i get there, and patrick and i are walking across the bridge to head to the cabin, and i see bo, and he does that weird little dodge like there's shitty lighting and you think someone is someone but you're not sure so you look from a different angle. and ya, i was me. patrick had bet me in the car that bo would be nonchalant about it, would try to play it off as nothing important, which was very much like bo. but, no, my powers denied such, and he ran up and crushed me in a bearhug, and was officially thrown off his game. *grin*

so, bo and i started carrying stuff to the cabin, taking setup time as a chance to catch up. i always have and always will have an inordinate fondness for bo, he's such an awesome person and there's always been this really neat but really thwarted connection between us. so we set up, i met the crew, got into garb, and we wandered out into the night. first stop was the woods for "tracking lessons", then a bunch of sitting about and watching the world go round while eavesdropping on conversations, things like that.

okay, my energy is drained, more in a while.


...i ended up playing a gypsy who'd spent some time with ogres, like i said, which works really well because i've got all this satyr garb, it's not as frilly or brightly colored as gypsy stuff could be, and i'm a little bit on the crude side personally. we shall see what develops as far as the character; at this point, it's still entirely up in the air if i'll fight again. i'd like to, but life is like that sometimes.

so, the first night, i sat around and eavesdropped. kinda got the hang of things; i'm always really skittish in unfamiliar situations, and until i get the feel of the place i just sit back and observe. so i did a whole lot of observing. the guys were really concerned that i wasn't having a good time, but i eventually partially convinced them that i will entertain myself (heh. heh.), and they needn't worry or babysit. i think part of their concern was that a new player who was fairly cool and had boobs was just dropped into their laps, and they wanted to make sure i'd come back. so, ya, sat around for the night, eventually crashed, froze my butt off but managed to refrain from asking one of the guys to curl up with me. *sigh*

the next day, woke up and kinda mosied about, which was most of what i did that weekend, just kinda being there, which was exactly what i wanted and needed. i did as little of anything as possible, and it was glorious. i'll fill in more details later...


so, on saturday, i borrowed the bag with the utensils in it and went up to the farthest clearing for a while, which had all these platforms around a central fire. i went to the one most hidden as you're coming up on the area, and smoked and just listened to the woods for a while and let my thoughts drift. i dozed a bit, i think. my brain was blissfully quiet for most of the weekend, that was my favorite part. very low fret factor. anyhow, after a while, i figure to myself, well, i'm out in the middle of the woods, it's a beautiful day, i can hear anyone coming up the trail, and i'm horny. and ogre pants loosen very easily. so, you do the rather simple math. i was in the middle of such when i heard voices coming. i stood up and retied my pants (badly) and adjusted the strip of fabric across my boobs so my boobs didn't show through my shirt too badly, and waited for the people to appear.

who would it be, who could it be, except bo and one of the marshals running the game. i managed to hide most of my grin when i saw him. they ran a scene, it was pretty neat, and then wandered over to talk to me. we chatted for a bit, and when they went to leave i called bo back. "you'll never guess what i was doing when you guys walked up," i told him. bo, aloof and self-posessed bo, blushed as he walked away. he was about 20 feet away when he hollered, "if it rhymes with masturbate, i'm going to be really angry!" all i could do was laugh.

when i got back to camp, most of the guys asked to make sure i was having fun, as i had seemed bored before i wandered off, and then was gone for 2-3 hours. i just grinned and told them that i had been entertaining myself. the first time bo overheard this, he just shook his head at me and attempted to scowl. i grinned at him. if you knew what to look for, it was obvious what i had been up to, and obvious that i had, erm, resumed the task once bo left. he blushed again.

the one thing that i kinda regret about my excursion on the hill, though, is that i had completely forgotten that it was a girl scout camp. that could have made for some interesting yummies.

anyhow, day progresses, feast was cool, things like that. i lose the initiative to write, so i promise i'll try to pump something coherent out in the next email.


so, ya, saturday was mostly just sitting around, i did get to run from big badazz monsters twice, which was ohso exciting. did tarot readings for two people, still no idea if there was any accuracy involved, but i don't think the deck particularly liked being used in such a way. i've got another i can work with, i think, though it'll take hella work with a fine point sharpie before it's proper. read poetry for another person, and once i finally joined the rabble, he mentioned it and that it was good. this pleases me; spending the weekend quiet was much in character, being fresh back from the ogres and all, and that will give people a little something to chew on. i'm not usually very good with mysterious; it's good when it happens despite my ineptitude.

feast wasn't bad, roasted chicken quarters and potatoes and salad; not the scale of a dagorhir feast, nor the variety, but the proportion of meat to other was much better. i nearly stabbed my chicken with my plastic fork, cursing the ridiculousness of silverware, when i realized that i was eating in character. i was chastized later for picking at my chicken in a dainty way with my fingers, but i was simply pulling off single muscles, then devouring them with relish. (zeal, not condiment.) i also got to wipe my hands on my ogre pants, very gratifying.

lessee. the rest of the night was mostly just sitting about on the front steps of the cabin. my butt hurts from being planted on concrete for so long. and it was gooooood. very good. very relaxing. my brain shut up for a while! *wistful, contented sigh*. brain... quiet... hmmmmmm. two or three times we dodged inside the cabin because undead had shown up and decided we looked yummy, but there was a ward up, so they couln't come in after us to kill us. in fact, at one point, one of the people sent the undead after another person, just to mess with them. i was entertained.

we sat around for a long time, i got to spend some time with bo at the picnic tables just talking and keeping him warm (in a frustratingly innocent way, i might add... gerrr....), which was very nice. we had a skunk-man in our cabin taking a nap, and he had the most god-awful snore i have ever heard. it ranged from sucking chest wound to hibernating cartoon bear to earth-rumbling roars. it was horrible. we eventually kicked him out, and then we sat by the fire in the otherwise empty tavern for a while, just being warm. pretty much all of the crew went to go to sleep at the same time, so i busted out my bottle of wine (non-alcoholic, of course... ahem...) and split it betwen the six of us who were conscious, as everyone just talked back and forth, and generally got settled in for sleep.

the next morning was just as chilled, packing and then breakfast and then sitting aorund and checking out and getting coffee and a bloody mary at some old people diner in town. they were insistent that i should come out more, and if i were going to be in town for longer i would become the front line fighter (ironic, eh... the newbie gypsy chick is the one everyone wants to be front when the monsters come... i would enjoy the hell out of it, though). i will indeed make the effort to go out more, if all things line up well. when i got home, i dropped into a malaise that just hasn't lifted. i'm tired and sore and i didn't get nookie. so.
misstree i've been getting drunk a *lot* lately.

it doesn't interfere with the rest of my life very much,
but it kind of bothers me
to look back at the past week
and think that there was one, maybe two days
when i didn't drink,
and the week before that was much the same.

i don't think it's alcoholism;
i don't crave booze on the days i don't have it,
and a few of the days were things like a beer with dinner,
but something about it
really bothers me.

maybe it's the reasons why i drink;
out of boredom, out of dissatisfaction,
hell, on tuesday i got utterly smashed
to celebrate my latest failure;
being drunk helps chase the ghosts away,
helps keep me from thinking.

i normally disapprove of such tactics.
i normally will stare anything in the face
and stick my tongue out at it
or punch it in the nose.

but lately,
it's been a bit more difficult.

i haven't been so good at getting my brain to shut up lately.
i haven't been so good at
sticking my tongue out at things
and meaning it.
i haven't been
losing myself in the finer things,
and i'm getting really

i tell myself that a lot of it is pinned on
one simple quest,
that a tumble is the turning point
for something two months past,
but chance doesn't bend over for me as it should,
and in fact it's been pretty damn ornery,
thwarting me with what appears to be
malicious consistency.

i don't truck much with utterly random circumstance.
talking it over with a friend,
by the "no such thing as coincidence" theory,
there are a couple of possibilities
of why things have lined up as they have.
(here you must forgive me, because private beliefs play a *very* strong part, and this might ramble)

"no such thing as coincidence" points to the involvement of Big Momma (eris).
such involvement points to purpose.

it could be
that Big Momma is making me wait
so that i will savor the moment more.
this makes me angry,
as i've had enough of savoring,
it's not going to get any better,
it's just going to keep me pissed and obsessed
in the meantime.

it could be
that i'm supposed to learn something
from this constant craving,
but i'm not quite sure what it is.

that i can do without?
i know this,
and the only reason that it fails to apply properly here
is, again, the factor of release, the mile marker
that i have released the last phase,
but i've already released it;
i just want a tumble to make the rebirth official.

a lesson in humility?
Momma, i'll never be humble,
we both know that,
and i'd spit in your eye before i'd even think of
releasing my overblown ego
and undying faith in my own abilities.

telling me to settle for what i can get?
again, a big neon Hell No,
and again, we both know that
i'd rather go hungry
than eat a substandard meal,
for such a marker.

life promised_me_poems,
the old american birthright thing again,
but i'll be damned if i'll release that demand.

so i don't know.

the other possiblity is that
Big Momma has something spectacular in store,
but i'm so sick of waiting,
i've been so sick of waiting
for so long
that this seems rather excessive,
and at this point it had better be the screw of a lifetime.
i know it's not waiting for the next Big Thing to come along;
i want to be and will be singe for a while,
i don't want any emotional attachments
sullying my soul.

so there it is.

in a nutshell, i'm a drunk, belligerent, egosistical wacko who can't get laid.

the only part that surprises me (and most who know me) is the last part.

sheeit. *sigh*

sorry. just had to scream at the world in general for a moment.
minnesota_chris have a drink! hee hee 030925
realistic optimist perhaps she is a discordian trying to shake you from your reliance on the ritual itself to get you past this stop on your trek. 030926
misstree hmm... it makes sense in its ways, but i'm not sure if it has the ring of truth... i haven't done any major shifts of personality aspects lately, at least by will... i have, however, had a shift in paradigm and title... no longer being a girlfriend changes things beyond just not seeing someone, there's a whole web of things that you're left on your own for, a part of your identity that is removed and replaced...

so you suggest that perhaps it is the aspect of me that needs this ritual of release that needs to be changed... each argument that speaks against it gets shot down by a solid "so?"... i am a rather sexual creature (so?)... i just need one to get me over the hump (so? do without. you need nothing.)... i enjoy it immensely (so? there are other things that you enjoy) yes, but not as much as a good, brutal meeting of meat... THAT, you contrary little bitch, is my drive... THAT is where i pull my poetry from, where my passion gushes... and until i get one solid tumble, i can't think past it, i can't sit on a hillside and idly play with words, nor can i use this terrible longing as my point of passion and my muse, because it is so damn played out! i'm done, i'm sick of it, i've written all the crappy poetry i will on it and then some! i need a fresh model to paint--my hand just roves idly across the canvas now, to the point of belittling previous works, creating nothing new, just dripping rot.

even if i could, i would not release this aspect of passionate cravings, any more than i would release my blinding ego, my exacting standards, or my belief that the universe dances rather than stumbles about randomly. some would say that a "true" discordian or chaote would release such things simply because they were so important to them, as a way of getting closer to freedom, but those people can go fuck themselves. not only is this not the time or place for such personality shifts, those are some of the very small handful of things i would go to the mat for about myself, and eris and, er, wilson (sorry old chap, need a figurehead) can go throw themselves in front of a stampede of elephants_with_sharks_strapped_to_their_heads before i'll give those up.

that might change in the future. everything changes in the future. but right now, i get the same kind of snarling defiance that i did when i read emoticon.

so fuck you, universe. you're pushing around the wrong bitch, so fuckoff already and we'll stop doing damage to each other.
misstree okay, it's time for official freakout moment...

going to the goth club tonight, it's the monthly one with all the kiddeos 'cause it's all ages (no offense to the kiddeos hereabouts, you don't take up space on my dance floor so i have nothing against you ;) and i have a special reason to make brief contact with the guest dj, though i doubt he'll remember me as the seed was planted 3.5 years ago, and just like the first time, i have no friggin' idea what i'm going to say to him... before that, i get to try to throw myself into elegant form in minimal time so i can attempt to go have drinks with coworkers (note that this will be while wearing the goth clothes, which are quite a contrast from my daily slackwear), and after that, i get to hope that the boi i'm pursuing actually connects with me to collect on his backrub, which will, with any luck, put the kibash on this whole "the universe hates me *SIGH*" bullshit... but right now, there are tornado warnings going on, it's raining buckets, and i'm stuck at work 1/2 hour longer than i need to be because i'm a fucking pedestrian.

okay. that wasn't so bad.
baby steps, little tree. baby steps. take it as it comes, and make sure you booze up before you get to the club.
misstree doesnt much like the taste of bitter he called in sick to work today,
and my squeekninja wasn't getting an answer on his phone.

i said about 10 words to the guest dj
and met his girlfriend.

i got royally smashed
and swore like a fucking sailor all night.

the fucking end.
misstree aside from this,
don't believe anything i say.

i'm drunk
and pissed
and bitter
and depressed
and none of these are natural states for me
(even the pissed, believe it or not,
as i normally prefer belligerent,
violent, or full of rage.)

the only thing i can do
is keep my mouth shut
(if i *can* do that)
until tomorrow
or beyond.
misstree promises silence fuck. that's it, for this one. three close calls, and beyond that it becomes drama. i've inadvertently invested, and now i have to pull out funds before they become worthless.

shit. i meant to shut up, i really did, but i can't sleep despite my desperate need for it, and the muted thwap of keys is about the only comfort hereabouts. shit. it's drama.

when i was talking to my squeakninja earlier, she started laughing at her desperate need of sleep, and pointed at the fact that often people laugh at things that aren't funny, because that's the only way to react to them. i stopped laughing already--this joke has grown old. but it still runs through my brain like a commercial jingle. i can't even bust a smile right now, again unusual. it's all wrong. all of it. every inch. wipe it clean and i'll start drawing again, see if i can get it right this time. no, i said wipe it clean. no, i said
you're not listening.
god damn you, you Bitch. you promised_me_poems.
misstree i think that
these repeated failures
do have a purpose;
to break me.
it's been a long time since i was broken,
my shoulders have gotten too strong,
but, well, strength can't last forever,
and god damn if the universe didn't succeed.

somehow, though, i don't think this is the end.
i can't feel the bottom of the pool just yet,
and i have an inkling that this will be a deep one.

apolgies in advance for speing angst--
if it happens, i'll try to keep it contained here rather than clutter the rest of blue.

misstree so, the universe being what it was, since the last couple of rants, i've been seeing some particular reasons, things that are coming about or coming to the forefront because of the recent thwartings...

first, i really am getting to a point where i don't care. while this threw a bit of a scare into me at first, i have to remember that that is as much a part of my personality as everything else; that season is changing, my winter is beginning, as a friend put it. i have always been more seasonal (treelike) than i care to admit. also, i'd forgotten apathy in the face of passion and divine bitch-slapping. even the despair and angst that's mixed in there feel like old friends back to raid my fridge and stink up my couch for a few days.

second, fine, gothcopcat was right, i deserve better than what has been laid before me. nearly any would have been acceptable, and probably quite enjoyable, but exceptional creatures? not quite. interesting, but not exceptional, at least to me. so that's fine, i'll take meteoker or i'll wait for good or i'll get ambushed by crappy, any way it works out, i will eventually get to indulge sometime in my lifetime.

(note to universe: if you kill me off first, yes, it would be kind of ironic and kind of funny, but you and i both know that i'm a catnip mouse you can't help but swat around, so it's not in your best interests to break one of your favorite toys.)

also, this kind of feels like the time when i finally get to be depressed, to be angsty and of no use to anyone and to write crappy poetry and things like that, which i never really had at the end of my last relationship. now, i'm not saying that being without it was a bad thing, most people would kill for such pleasent breakups, but it's felt like something was missing.

and, finally, as i've recently said, i'm a sensate (d&d planescape reference, see posts over at ask_use24 if you want clarification), and this really is something. never mind that it's about ground me to dust, and never mind that apathy is kind of anathema to a sensate, it's all better than nothing, and it's tastes that haven't crossed my tongue in a while. so welcome home, my bratty little angstbombs, go wash up and we'll have supper.

i want to add, i feel a bit of guilt whenever i post over here, like i'm taking up blatherspace for nothing important, but then i think of some of the useless crap that fills other pages (like most of the korn page ;) and i care a little less. blather has always been a place where i kind of mill about and talk to myself, mostly for my own benefit (okay, so entirely for my own benefit by my belief system, again with the ask_use24), this page is just a more concentrated form in an effort to keep from spewing angst all over the rest of blue (and occasionally just sick up some angst on someone's shoes instead... and i would like to note that i *still* have never sicked up on someone's shoes, and can't wait for my day to come).

so, that's my story. if you made it through all of that, you're either a water_brother, a stalker, or really really really bored, but that's okay. trust me when i say that this could have been much much longer.
misstree this morning, i was convinced i wasn't going to go to goth night.

i start a lot of tuesdays like that. i almost always go to goth night.

it's a release for me, it always has been. i told someone tonight that i was just there to dance, the drinking and talking and such were just extras. i'd still be there if there were three people (which described many a night at the dungeon).

but really, i knew i couldn't walk in there and get all drunk and belligerent, i went over the top last week, i wanted to just let go this week. i'm so tired of being angry, of the violence that i've always had in me driving me in such frustrated pulses. normally at goth night, i bite people, last week i was punching people in the shoulders and slapping people, all consensually, because i don't dig with non-consensual violence.

but this rage was driving me. every tuesday i would bleed as much of it out as i could, and every tuesday i went home drunk and frustrated. well, this week i gave up. i've thrown in enough of the towel to count, what remains is manageable, i don't care about this stupid fucking quest to be able to have that freeing fuck. all that worrying about it has been doing is driving me crazy.

but releasing want of it doesn't end the drives.

back in '95, i was fighting with a boyfriend, he had me in a bearhug (to keep me from driving while hysterical), and i unintentionally put him through a glass door. we snapped out of it, and went upstairs to wait for the police. from that moment until five years later when i was in new orleans, i was a pacifist. i bit people, things like that, but i wouldn't swordfight, i wouldn't touch serious s&m, because i needed to control my temper.

in new orleans, i realized that i had learned to control it, and could release the strict boundaries. tales of that time can be found on these pages; suffice to say that consensual brutality was a delicious meal i ate often.

so, i come back here, and i get into swordfighting. that helps quite a bit for a while, but i no longer fight because each time someone hit me in the head, i'd get really really angry. sometimes i'd walk off the field more rage-filled than i'd started. but, i got to hang out with a bunch of pirates, ogres, and thugs, so there was enough rough housing to keep me entertained, and having a boyfriend gave me a slow outlet.

well. i don't see my pirthugres anymore, nor fight, nor have the boi. this unsuccessful hunt has been tied in quite a bit with that need for violence; sex and violence are forever mated, neh? see recent blathes about drinking and being belligerent, and you've got plenty of examples.

well, violent urges were getting the better of me again. i realized that in order to truly get myself under control, to pull out of this angry tailspin, i needed to go back into pacifism. tonight was the first night.

it wasn't so bad. it's the world through slightly different eyes, with slightly different reactions. it's metaprogramming, a piece i've needed to do but not recognized. "strength comes from not caring," goes the steven brust quote, and i need to assert dominance over myself, so shutting off the option keeps it in check. every time i stop myself from doing something, i remember why, and i know that it's for the better.

i'm done. i'm going to sleep. other highlights of the night included seeing two old friends who have been long absent, dancing to really cool stuff, havng my bodyguard cut off a piece of his armor so i could chew on something, making a boy cry, and meeting a really cool pretty hippie boy (p.h.b.s and i usually hate eachother on sight, but this was the opposite) who gave me the best hug i've gotten in a while--a real squeeze that tells someone that you mean it. overall, a good night, considerably better than most recent times.
misstree i was very mean to a nice boy last night.

i began talking to random guy x at the bar, some rawr crab about being a pacifist, and he asked me why, and it launched from there. he was quite interesting to talk to, though he was either pretty drunk or a little touched in the head (sometimes they're indistinguishable). i danced with words as i sometimes do, refusing to narrow down my age beyond either 23 or 26--and i wouldn't tell him which. i inadvertently made him cry, as we were talking about spoken word and jello biafra, and memories of a recently passed away friend came back to him. that was the only time that i wasn't being mean to him in some subtle way or another, testing his boundaries; he was crying a little, and i told him it was okay, i was a poet, i was used to baring my soul to strangers. shortly after, i went to go dance. he bought me a beer; i refused it. he snagged my attention away from a group of friends; i was vaguely dismissive, then asked him if he'd ever heard of discrodianism, and when he said "um, yes..." smiled and walked away. i blatantly ignored his hinting that he had no way to get home.

the reason that i post this here instead of some appropriate being_mean_to_boys kind of rant is because i think it ties into pacifism for me, somehow. physical violence is not the only sort. i used to be kind, open, caring. i rarely am anymore. i told some friends last night that i was done with social work, done with puppy dogs, done with trying to show people how to grow into themselves or helping people with issues unless i already considered them somewhere in the range of equals (apples and oranges being what they are and all that). that may be true... heck, may be nothing, i refuse to try to help every passing bud bloom, i refuse to spend time coaxing egos into existence and dancing people towards enlightenment when all i get is drool in my cleavage, annoyance, and no change in them, as i am but a small influence.

heh. i can almost feel the voice of one of my water_brothers hereabouts protesting. and part of the reason i'm writing this is, before he says a word, i agree with him. it *is* important to make an impact on people's lives. i am who and where i am today because countless people have bounced off of me and left delicious dents, because i have tasted so many souls, in sips and deep draughts. because a procession of people along the line have taken the time to stop and talk. and here i was, denying this strange boy the respect of a decent conversation. i was dismissing him and toying with him. i was downright mean.

the world is a shitty enough place without being mean to eachother. you've all heard me say that over and over, right? well, i've fallen out of practising what i preach. as i said, i think it's a manifestation of emotional/mental/social violence. it's being belligerent beyond playfulness. it's destructive rather than constructive chaos. it's another unacceptable aspect of myself that needs to get thrown into lockdown.

i don't respect myself for being mean to people, i don't make any positive impact on the world, and i certainly don't do any good for the other lost souls and hairless apes that share this crazy excuse for a movie 70 year plot (running time varies by edition). so it needs to end. a second point on which to take a stand. whee.

don't know what else to say. i don't want to say anything like, "well, i'm going to be nicer hereabouts" or any of that crap, because "going to" are words that don't carry a whole lot of weight, that are excuses for putting something off to the next moment. that, and i'm not making promises to you, i'm making commitments to myself, and this one is still finishing coalescing. all that i can ask is that you wish me luck; this is a hard habit to break, one i've slipped into slowly by being around people who were belligerent as a way of showing affection, where distractions didn't dance at every turn, where sitting by a campfire and chatting with people i had no power over (and thus no desire to be mean to) was how i spent much of my time. i've become a bit of a bully. nope; pacifism, lock that shit up, it serves no purpose but to do me harm. i'd rather excise the whole tumor than take chunks at a time.
misstree interesting experiment last night... i went out to the goth club as normal, sporting newly brightred hair and a formal satin gown with a corset (very snazzy, especially for a ragamuffin like myself), and a black x on my lips that bore passing resemblance to a butterfly. i refused to speak all night.

now, this has been a dream of mine for some years--to go to the club and be able to drink and dance and watch but not have to talk to any of these now-familiar strangers. it was nerve-racking trying to get out of the house, but a friend quoted myself back to me for encouragement: "bravery is not being unafraid; bravery is being afraid but doing it anyway."

so i went. and i wore heels, and a corset, and i didn't speak, and all three of these were relatively major shifts in my normal world, but they were good.

the heels were a challenge to my feet, making myself separate a bit more from clumsy premeditated movements and simply drift, let the meat do what it knows how to do, balance and spin. the corset cinched just above the waist, making my usual hip-movements slightly more accented but also hidden in the voluminous skirt, a pressure that gifted me with slight constant awareness.

the silence made me kind. it did as i was intending. i was very angry for a little while yesterday, the rage that drove me to five years of pacifism many moons ago just barely held in check. i had missed it, in its way, it is so full and bright, but without proper outlet it's just frustrated rage. last night i wrote an apology to the boy that i had been mean to, i kept the company of a few friends, i noted that more than a few people mimicked my muteness, and i was left mostly to my own devices, rather than being pestered by puppy dogs.

and i danced to three songs that pulled at sentiment and memory with delightful silver hooks, that had drawn my pack and i out to dance in lovely nola, that had eased a smile on our faces that transcended the corruption and farce and rot and desperation that we were surrounded with. three songs in a row, eyes closed and my back to a corner, i remembered the movements of my darlings, my mates, raised joyful, flowing toast to times past but cherished.

and i wrote. what joy i found with uninterrupted pen! also hearkening back to those days, i found myself a corner, my pen and my thoughts and my eyes drifting over the crowd, a nearly meditative state not normally achieved, especially lucid and alone. i wrote, and the pen flew with my passion. i wrote, and i brought myself fully there. i wrote, and i remembered freedom.

my challenge to myself succeeded! aside from a singly "yay!" that slipped out, i kept myself quiet until we left, i kept myself reserved and on the proper side of drunk as hell (which is to say, i was not), i reserved my lusts, i drifted without concern for the negativities or even presence of those around me.

it was a good night.
Lemon_Soda What a lovely reality.

Don't ever change, but never stay the same.
Death of a Rose I almost feel like a visogoth (sp?) rampaging downhill with sword and shielf, screaming death rattles at the ememy, ready to cleave them in two.

Sigh......wonderful mind.
misstree ? why do you feel like a visigoth, precisely?

is a little opaque today
gwyllynne ::bonking noggin' repeatedly on the walls of misstree's rambling corner cuz she figures that the former house cat won't mind:::






::bonk, bonk, bonk:::

(thank you)
oldephebe 'Ey mtree! This page is amazing that's it. 'nuff said 031011
oldephebe Oh and ah mtree? I still haven't gotten around to digesting your embroidered exhalations..but I will dagflabbit!! I will! 031011
misstree angels from my past have been coming out of the woodwork at an alarming rate lately, as if a call has been sent out that i'm hacking through some dangerous woods and creatures of legend wish to guide my way, or that the scent had drifted through the aether that i was coming back into Myself (for pairing with a mate does alter your scent) and the reciprocally cherished wished to renew old bonds after my absence of Self... i love it, i am rolling in it like a puppy in a mud puddle, the revelatory and healing powers are phenomenal...

yes, yes, darlings from the woodworks... they refresh me, they make me fell all full and glowy just knowing that they are there, that i can sip of them, that we rub velvety feline cheeks and leave our scent with a purr...

last night's continuation of such phenomenon... gwyllynne's glider-like squeaks here and there were fantabulous, the cause of much bouncing and squeals of glee... she is an old and dear friend, i could gush volumes about her but i will gush them privately, because there have to be some things that i don't tell everyone, neh? there are already yowlings for her on these pages, but it is perhaps that you will never find them...

last night, however, was another page in a very long book, i got to spend time with the person who has known me the longest of all, whom i very rarely see but could never forget... we dated, on and off, through six years and high school and beyond... i had recently been remembering mostly what terrible harms i did to him, but he reminded me last night that these were brief moments compared to the long hours that we were simply young and in love, oh the times we had, i was wrong to allow regrets to cast so heavy a pall over my recollections. as the rarer among my water_brothers often do (and do not think that the list on that page is complete, i am blessed in that there are many that i would share water with, with my heart full of love), he reminded me of purpose, he chided me for my slacker ways, he said, "tree, the world needs you," reminded me of far-distant dreams of teaching, tended that fire that embers may burn when the time for flames has come. there was more, so much more, but i will simply say that he worked miracles for my preservation, and this morning finds me in peace.

if you cherish someone, never let that fact slip from sight. never allow distance to grow brambles between you, never let minor sleights tear at the parts that join you, never let major slights lie unconfronted. it is in such sharing that we regain connection with the Other, all that is not us. it is water_brothers who will guide you through dark times and frolic with you in bright ones, and whom you in turn may draw out of inky shadows when they stumble. you must not let them fade from your heart or your mind, you must leave yourself open to give and recieve the blinding brilliance of your Selves.

enough of hearing my own voice. i'm going to go do some cherishing in private.
nobody important boo!

oh, er.. sorry for pouncing like that, broke the mood a little, didn't it.

slinks off
misstree yay pounce!
and yay me!
I got nookie!
/me does a happy dance all over blather.
and none of you get details,
and trust me,
the details are exceedingly yummy.
but for any who care,
this personal hell,
this herculean quest to
get ass worth getting
and finish kicking the cocoon
of a past relationship,
has concluded
in a fashion grand enough
to warrant the wait.
and i can't stop grinning like an idiot.
okay, i'll *try* to shut up about it now.
misstree okay, so i lied.
like a little kid with a secret, the last thing that i want to do is shut up about such a glowing, glorious pairing.
if you're under 18, don't read this, sex is bad for you, and you should wait until you can properly deal wth with the consequences before you have it. no, i'm serious, i'm constantly swearing around here but there's a difference between picking up a potty mouth and picking up a child or a death sentence.

still this will be kind of bare bones, though i have a full version that i might just post over on the tell_me_a_storie page once i do a bit of editing and anonymizing.

but the essence is this:
this weekend held the unexpected culmination of a long-sought prize. each moment was filled with delicious uncertainty and tension, even after certain activities had begun. i had to be utterly silent, which is very much against my nature, but added such will-borne difficulty, such a terrible tension, that every nerve was at double intensity right from the get go. he laid next to me silent for a while, and i slowly coaxed him to action, though he was damnably, deliciously aloof (i'll spew sometime on why i have such a weakness for aloof boys [and it is specifically boys] sometime, but later). any time i made the slightest sound, activities ended. again i say, wonderfully maddening. the final weapon that destroyed my ability to be anything but animal instinct was that i couldn't touch him, couldn't leave a mark, couldn't even reciprocate one iota of what he was doing to me, beyond a few glorious kisses. (he kissed with the best aspects of both boys and girls, oh such yumminess.) once his hand was finally engaged in the prettiest of places, i found out that he was hands down the most skilled in this area i have ever found. this is no easy feat for an old sexpot and successful seductress like myself--i tell you this boy was better at fingering me than i was. after a time, we became engaged in activities that i rarely attempt (ahem), and between the teasing buildup and the strict silence and the aloofness and the age-old chase and the desperate need, how do i explain... i'm rather open to all manner of sensation, so overwhelming pleasure kind of throws me for a loop that ends in flaming plane crashes of the best kind, and this boy had me in constant state of explosion. again, i've had more than my share of boys (i'm greedy, what can i say), and far and away the best lovers i've found were in new orleans. not only was this night of that caliber, it was incredibly good among that caliber. i can't say it was the best i've ever had, but i can't say that about any lay or lover... i will distinctly say that this made it into the vip room with a smile.

also, there is the prospect of taking this exquisite creature on as a lover, though i couldn't say what the odds would be. pray for me, darling 'skites, because sensation is my temple, encounters of this type closer to ritual than sex, and i'm pretty damn devout but without a good church.

more obscure stuff will come crawling out of the woodwork in a bit, more than likely on appropriate pages, things about aloofness and worship and being a sensate, but for now i'm just going to sit back and glow, for i have gotten nookie, and not only was it good, it was legendary.
misstree your irregularly scheduled explosion has been cancelled from this weekend, please take a free sample of mischiefbits and enjoy the distinctly rather pleasent fireworks we have flown in last minute to replace the technical malfunction. as soon as we determine why we weren't able to create a proper crater, why we were thwarted and how so many things got so muddled up, we may or may not inform you. please carry on with your normal business, unless your normal business is sleep, because tree gets none of that and so no one else should either. thank you, please pull through.
just starting to come back to reality, if you're looking for stories i may or may not tell them, if you're looking for insights you're going to have to wait until my brain reboots, if you're looking for entertainment then find me some midget_stumping_porn. user24, if ya read this, it'll take me a few days on ask_use24, we've been practicing patience over there and now it's not a drill. to everyone else, it'll just take me a few days in general. and then possibly a few more.
misstree this is what i have to say about the nero event on saturday:

i got to eat lasagna with my hands and chew with my mouth open and share meat and floor-blessed bread with people. i got to translate for a mute, illiterate gypsy girl. i got to poke things with a padded stick and carry around a phallic symbol. i earned money for entertaining myself, reading people poetry and giving and recieving backrubs. my water_brothers are self_entertaining_units, and had lots of fun. i was jumpy any time we were in the woods, convinced the undead big bad wolf with glowing eyes was just around the corner. a dwarf barked at me, and i barked back. process repeated. dwarf backed down. our little mute gypsy scared away a big monster by pretending to be big and scary. even monsters fall for gypsy tricks. old friends were visited and new friends were found. it rained all weekend, but never hard enough to drench. a child's joke and a gypsy's kindness meant that everyone got something special. coffee was had in the morning. glorious spare ribs were brought by superwaitress in the afternoon. bo told us good good stories on the drive back to springfield, and we got to visit with my gothpriest as he saved our butts by driving us back to champaign. despite a zillion and a half complications and misfortunes and misadventures, each one of us had an excellent time.
u24 just popped in to say, yeah, no prob, take your time. 031104
misstree needs to poop poems where do i start?
where do i begin?
so much here, a feast for every creature
that answers to my outstretched hand.

but where is the beginning of this tale?
where is the end? the rise and fall of
a plot is denied, everything a simple
series of switchbacks, a drunkard's balance,
and even if i had every inch of the whole story,
even if faulty memory banks weren't busily
wiping clean moments, events, details,
i still couldn't tell the tale truly,
there would still be glances and thoughts and sighs
that will never come to me.

but something needs to come out.
my brain is so full but so clogged that
it's cramping, it's moaning from the other room
and i don't know how to grant it relief.

so this is my start.

in the beginning, there were the Words.
and they were pretty good, but they knew
that their power was limited, so
they used themselves sparingly.
in the beginning were the Words,
and the Ragamuffin_Queen rallied them
and sought their guidance, one by one.
that is where to start.
more will come once consensus is reached.
misstree i'll start with one of the most mundane sets of moments, because it contains the most bothersome bit.

tuesday found me at goth night. i tried to stay home, i had a goddess to entertain and a bodyrub just past, but the too-familiar rage was singing low and hard in me, and i had to get it out. dancing only dampens it, but it's better than letting that flow through me full-force, a river tearing away at my soil until finally i fly into a frenzy.

so i went out to goth night, wearing pretty much normal clothes, because it doesn't matter what you wear to church as long as you're there. i saw people, i played, i made it a goal to get stupid drunk and bite at least five people. i managed both with stunning excess. i was offered ritalin and accepted, and what i think was its influence was glorious, though with that much of a medley of chemicals and thoughts, assigning cause is a difficult thing. but the path to trance through movement was much straighter and clearer than usual, which i think was that. very yum.

somehow, the person who had given me such and i ended up clicking. two people in need of a feast. out in his car, i was delighted by the opportunity to brace body against windshield, to have egglike enclosure to grip and writhe and press in. he was less than an exceptional lover, but the rage in me was cleared and i was entertained. so.

we went to a friend's house, and i got to lightly brush my tongue against a pixie of exotic flavor, then we went back to my house.

here is where it starts to worry me.

i remember that we went in. i remember saying hello to my goddess, and i think i remember going into the computer room. i remember looking for a piece to smoke with him. i remember seeing him out, still disappointed that he couldn't kiss worth a damn. i remember blathering later that night. i remember passing out, going near comatose with the prospect of rising for work in an hour and a half.

my goddess tells me that there were happy tree noises emerging from the other room, lasting about a chapter's worth of time. i have no memory of doing things at my house that would produce such noises. it may be that we played around a little bit. it may be that we did more. but i just don't remember, and it's not like me to forget the really good bits of a fun night.

i've always had a very flawed memory. but this is a little deeper of a flaw than i like existing. maybe it's the booze. maybe it's all the other crap going on. but why don't i remember making happy tree noises?

feh. that's a puzzle that will sit for a long time, i think. more dribblings later.
misstree warning: self-indulgent emotional spew that has nothing to do with anything ahead. do yourself a favor and don't read it.

"t___, would you come over to my desk so we can talk?"

this is it, i think to myself, they've found out how much i'm on the net and my production is low and i'm going to lose my job. these thoughts are common at work.

"this is about your unscheduled time off... blah blah blah... i've got the calendar here... blah blah... and, of course, there's 21 hours here from four months ago when you were having... problems..."

it slammed home with all the acceleration of the distance i had pushed it. those three days... the wednesday was when i sat at my desk and couldn't stop crying, and didn't know why, and finally went home. that night you tried to break up with me. i didn't let you. you promised me lots of tuesdays, and i would have you until tuesday.

the next day was too precious to work through, too much bliss in enforced ignorance. the day after i tried to work; but something about this place forced the truth on me, and tears came again, and wouldn't leave.

i remember those three days. i was not lost in desperation; i knew exactly where i was, and why and how it hurt, but i didn't have strength enough to deny it, not until the next week, when everything became real. gone. you were gone, and i was unafraid, i saw why it was needed and i saw how much better things would be.

only we don't really talk anymore. whenever i speak to you, barbs come flying out against my accord, i become bitter and sulky, i want to snarl and sulk off to where i don't think about you anymore. two and a half years, and all i can summon is that.

you took all my darlings, my pirates and thugs. that is the most unforgivable. i had a chance to say goodbye to you, i had my last week, but i never dreamed i would miss now-familiar strangers so much. miss just being in their presence, feeling their scent, grinning at their antics, barking and howling with them, dancing with a few strange souls. you took them all from me, and when i wanted to visit in their world, you denied me.

that is the only thing that stings, and i want to hurt you so badly because of it. because with all the betteroffs and itsokays and freedomatlasts, you still found a way to cut to my core.
misstree and if anyone's interested re the post on 031106, i heard through the short part of the grapevine that the boy went home bleeding profusely, on ass, back, arms, and face. heh. face, that entertains me. now i realy wish i remember it. 031125
misstree angst bomb descending. take cover.

i'm up in the chicago 'burbs, sitting at home at 10:30 on a saturday night, dead sober, while some of my dearest and rarest darlings have converged upon champaign in my absence. people i haven't seen in two years are getting drunk in great gobs of beautiful people. i will hear the stories when i return.

and i am drinking moose piss in the hopes that it will sicken and intoxicate me enough that i might sleep.

i should be happy to be here. this mental state, that is. i don't often taste tears these days. i was beginning tto think that there was something wrong with me, because there wasn't anything wrong with me.

well, now it's bitter disappointment, bitter_tears. old friends have turned hollow, i go to visit graves once in a while. a caretaker still smokes, reminds me that i need to leave.

i should be anywhere but here. i should be stoned, at least, celebrating in my own little way, but the Gods of such have tuned their back on me. can't blame them, i ask them for a lot.

but i'm sitting here alone, and the people i so desperately want to see are sitting in my parlor, three hours away.

and i am sitting here alone.

i had forgotten what being lonely feels like. i don't think this is it. this is regret, this is stining irony, this is disappointment that makes me wish i had the energy to throw a tantrum. this is shite. this is what i fled to get closer to the carnival.

can someone tell me how to get there from here, right now? can someone tell me how to teleport? i need to be gone, i need to be out, i need at least some bread and circus, i need something to distract me and dull me. i need something. i need out.

i need my darlings. i miss my darlings, they are a missing piece. they are not the piece that i am missing, however. that is a deeper problem.

there is a feeling in the air of a roller coaster stalled at the top of a hill. it's been stalled here forever, and will stay here forever. there is something that i'm missing, some place that i'm not looking, that i need to find to fix the engine. if i knew where or what it was... if "ifs" and "ands" were pots and pans there'd be no need for tinkers... where the fuck are all the tinkers? where's my spark, my crashing into a ball of flame? where's everything? the night is very dark outside, and i am in it. christmas lights dazzle empty eyes, and i am empty.

words won't even come. not even enough angst to write properly, just the hope of sleep. it has been centuries since i was here. it has been ages since i was alive. there are parts of me dying right here, right now. i want to slough them off to offer opportunity for newness, but there is nothing new under the midwestern sun. i need to be away. i need to be alive. i need to be something somewhere that is not here.

i need to be quiet. i need to stop, i know that this is all just pointless angsty rambling, but i'm a little lost, you see, and my own voice is the only thing i have. i am outside in the darkness. it's cold. and it's only me. severed from it all. no life exists in a void. not even sound transmits. it's just me and my voice, and soon, i will be absolute zero. dear god let me be asleep before then.
des i enjoy the corner.
it's become a rather large corner.
maybe Miss Tree would consider making
a second so Miss Des's computer
could continue to load it in a
descent amount of time. eh, just a thought.
oldephebe I feel you mtree.. 031129
misstree today is the day that terraforming begins.

over the years i've done a lot of interior remodeling, gotten things fixed up the way i want them. much of this has worked with stunning success, and though some of the paths to where i'm at now were less than pleasent, as things in the brainbox became Righter, most things were easier to shift.

well, there's one big one left, and boy is it a doosie. i have to find a way to mesh ways of thinking and being that are directly opposite my own nature. there are a lot of benefits to be had from having some discipline, being able to pucker your asshole once in a while, and i want those benefits. i want to clean my room without whining to myself like a ten year old. i want to know how to say "no, don't buy that" so i don't fall hopelessly behind in rent. and the biggest one, i want my meat, my vehicle, my avatar in this thing we like to call "the real world," to suit my needs and desires a bit better.

let me begin by saying this is not an "oooh, i'm so faaat," kind of whiny ranty thing. i fully understand the beauty in different body types, and am firmly of the opinoin that you should look like what you should look like. for myself, i should look slightly different.

this haunts me more than i consent to. i am relatively successful in my hunts, but how much would the dynamic shift if this part were a little firmer, that a little flatter? when i'm with a mate for the night, i get self-conscious. just a little, but it only takes one thought of john ashcroft doing the no-pants dance to kill a chubby, neh? when i dance, i feel like my muscles are muffled, like there is too much on the meat side of the veil, that the transmissions are thwarted a little in the crossing. and i am a lazy beyotch, so i want more energy.

so, all of these things have been kind of hanging in the background for a while. what's the way to fix these things? discipline. now i ask you, darling audience (if indeed you do exist), do *i* seem like the sort of person posessed of discipline, the ability to deny myself things that i want, to turn my nose up at the whim or pleasure of the moment? that's okay, i'll wait until you stop laughing.

which is why this will be a tricky little piece of metaprogramming. as i said, it goes against the very core of my nature, when taken head-on like this. the past week has yielded little glimpses into how i can make it part of my nature without setting it in opposition, but i think that i need to import the whole darn thing, then whittle it to its core in its proper place. i didn't fix my issues with my temper by kind of trying to be more pacifistic. i became a full-on pacifist for five years, then realized i had fixed myself, and set the levels to a working balance. in theory, i should approach this the same way, but such ubiquitous denial does not lend itself well to being followed, and being set as it is in opposition to my nature, well, going balls-out and then whittling down sounds like the best tack but i really don't think that it is. a crystallizing or focusing something would be grand, a nail to hang the sign on, a trinket to roll in my fingers when i need it most, but nothing decisive enough has revealed itself. a specific design for a scarification has been floating in my mind, but it doesn't seem right just yet, and i don't argue with rituals. there are pleasure principles involved that could be used, but most are delayed gratification (even if it's the 5-minute delay before i *don't* get a tummyache), which makes them a little slipperier of a focus than the rightnow.

so, for the moment, i'm in baby-steps mode, observing, inching my behaviors closer to the way i wish them to be, watching each deliberate step so that i don't have to take it again. if there's anybody_out_there with suggestions, please let loose, this is the biggest monster i've faced yet, and every little javelin i can stick in its hide is a help.

i'm sure this won't be the last i have to say on the subject, but it's at least the first.
misstree doh! should have put that on misstree's_rambling_roof. poopsticks. ah, well. 031208
misstree dull brownish grey today.
abandoned last night,
drank myself back to sleep,
hurt in only the way being stood_up can produce.
friend in the hospital today,
get to go visit and feel uncomfortable and
hope to god he gets better--life has been
giving him quite the short end lately.
i have a present for the emperor,
but i likely won't get to share,
which means i also likely
get to spend another day or week or
however long Momma wishes
most tuesdays, 6:00 marks a major shift in brainspace.
i have little hope that this tuesday will be the same.
but, there is a single threatening grail;
post-goth_night debauch.
it could glow or blow.
all the coins that were spinning separate
are starting to coalesce,
and i have a feeling
that that will be the occasion
the Big Mofo Coin lands on.
mt doh again. fuckit. 031230
what's it to you?
who go