mg_08 cr0wl the donkey-pulled gypsy cart rambled along the narrow woodland road, winding in and out of the shade dappled by the waning indian summer sunlight. balthazar was trained well and obeyed his orders without resistance, pulling his master to wherever he desired to go, knowing his portion of chop and hay awaited him. he knew nothing about bresson's donkey, and even if he did, he would simply just blink his eyes with understanding. what else could he do? inside, graham sat beside dennis browne in the ambient haze of swirling guitar and fuzzy drum and continued to sip from his own bottle, finding it more satisfying and curious as time passed, as if it was some kind of fuel that was propelling him to travel to places inside his soul he had never witnessed before. he felt like an insect wriggling out of its exoskeleton. and when he looked back to see what he used to be he laughed. kufraya now shared the space between them and still kept one eye on the open sun roof above them. she rocked back and forth adjusting her position. graham stroked her from time to time, running his hand along her red feathers. he liked to feel the bones underneath. "what did you put in the pouch around her neck?" dennis browne asked, seeing graham adjusting it. he drained the last drops of his bottle, tossed it out the window and then reached for a tin can on the shelf. "poems and drawings and other crazy shit," graham uttered. his voice sounded peculiar in his own ears. "a book i wrote." he heard himself say the words but they slid off his tongue like a child going too fast down a sliding board. "i even made her a little game out of an old cigar box." "right on," dennis said, opening the can. he removed a small corncob pipe and deftly filled its empty bowl with a pinch of what appeared to be dried flower buds. a slight fragrance of grapefruit competed against the myriad of sour odors. graham watched with a bemused fascination as dennis struck a wooden match and fired up the contents. he sucked like an infant child at its mother's generous breast. his scraggly, hollow cheeks folded inwards as if they were being turned inside out. the flame blanketed the herb with a glowing propulsion. he inhaled as if his breath had been kidnapped and then exhaled, filling the interior of the cart with snake-like ribbons of pungent smoke. graham smelled it immediately. in the delirium that the absinthe had painted him with, he thrust his head back against the cracked leather seat, sensing that if it wasn't there to stop him, he would just keep going, pressing himself into the earth like a seed. dennis hit it again and then coughing with a force that knocked his fedora askew on his greasy hair, he presented the pipe to graham. "go ahead, my little friend," dennis said, his lungs calming down from another interruption in a long line of damaging insistences. "i'll stoke it for you." graham accepted it without provocation. he beheld himself as if he was a ghost asking himself what he was doing. yet it was like watching a film with the sound turned off. when he hit it, he also coughed, but only once. "that's it," dennis said, chuckling. he struck another match and set it down on the blackened buds. graham sucked in and felt the smoke roar into his throat like a train into a blind tunnel traveling brakeless and out of control into his squeaky clean lungs. "hold it in as long as you can," dennis said, his one good eye now bloodshot and glassy. graham obeyed, allowing it build up until he felt like he would explode. "ok, let it out." 101023 ... cr0wl graham's tender lungs exploded with an embarrassing thrust of smoke followed by three, dry hacking coughs which temporarily emptied his body of the novel irritant. however, into his bloodstream, riding upon slippery molecular boats, science was about to have a party. the first thing that he noticed was magnified dimension. everything he looked upon appeared as though it was pulsing with timeless energy and had been meticulously outlined with raven black ink. definition had ascended with such intensity that graham wanted to reach with outstretched fingers and touch. he wanted to feel texture. to crawl inside the architecture of human design. he gazed down at kufraya, who peered up at him anxiously, and he knew what her feathers would feel like without touching her because he remembered what they felt like just as he knew his name and molly's. he inspected her marble-like eyes, how they rolled about in the confines of their socket, receiving light and functioning with perfect precision. he bent down and listened to her rapid breathing. he thought it sounded like the wind caressing a field of tall, summer grass. he studied the sheen of her claws. how the outer layer was transparent and the new growth was moon white inside and underneath. he marveled at the delicate solidity of life, beholding it with a switch turned on within his brain that had never been flipped before. it brought tears, hot, swift, and sudden to his eyes. they swelled above his lids and then joy itself, appearing in all its unexpected, superlative wonder, displaced them and they slid down his cheeks, beauty in liquid form. dennis took the pipe from graham and hit it again before dumping out the spent ashes. he put it back in the tin and returned it to its place on the shelf next to a copy of richard adams's "shardik." as graham continued to experience the immediate intensity of the flower bud's psychoactive effect, dennis flipped open his laptop and typed a few things, his smudgy, gnarled fingers dancing across the keyboard like bambi on ice. the screen whirred into electronic life and produced a series of images which dennis seemed satisfied he had produced. "this is the magic modpod," dennis said, taking another bottle from the shelf. he flipped open the lid and took a healthy swig. graham looked over and copied his actions. "whoa dude! what kind of magic does it do?" he asked, his lips tingling. the alcohol stung his throat. he swallowed and felt a creeping weightlessness blanket his entire body as if he was being wrapped up in sticky spider webs. coupled with the driving head buzz, his attention easily swung to the 13" screen. "is that a picture of me? how did you get it? dude, what the fuck?" "if you could see anything you wished, what would it be?" dennis asked. graham responde in less than a second, nearly falling off the seat with excitement. "molly!" graham yelled and took another sip, wiping his mouth against the sleeve of his fleece like he had seen dennis do. 101024 ... crowli the queen closed the book, but she did not replace it in molly's bag. instead, she clutched it tightly with both hands, and her knuckles whitened with the involuntary effort.  she acted as though she was planning to keep it, molly thought.  while she appeared to be carefully regarding the children and the tiger on the front cover of mg, the queen's expression had intensified and darkened, and molly was certain as she studied her vacant, distant eyes, that her concentration was elsewhere, assumably with graham, or possibly the illustrious dennis browne.  molly was slightly perplexed by the fact that the queen had been so caught off-guard and visibly shaken by the drawing while all molly could feel was overjoyed excitement. for the moment, however, she accepted that she should follow the woman's lead, for she was the only connection she'd had in what seemed like forever to her graham. this butterfly queen knew more than she was letting on.   molly felt that all-too-familiar tug of worry for graham, but she was so thrilled to at least 'know' he was alive and well, that she chose to think positive and jump to the conclusion she wanted and needed to believe in. for right now, molly was over the moon that graham had found kufraya, because in her estimation that could only mean that he had come back to find her. dennis browne or no dennis brown, he would find a way to send kufraya off and get her a message. she would see him soon, she could feel it; and the sensation was burning deep inside her, like a bubbling cauldron heated with a glowing flame.    molly thought about dennis browne's character from those great old stories, and recalled that he'd seemed like a person who was full of life, love and fun-filled adventure....in fact she would have to admit she'd felt a twinge of jealousy that graham had encountered him and she hadn't. 'how funny that he would actually turn up in our world,' molly thought, smiling at the coincidence.  after replacing the canvas satchel into the cracked wicker basket, molly hoisted her ancient bike to vertical, and holding the handle bars to her side, ahe walked the old bike through the dunes, taking special care not to damage the sea oats. the queen had started walking as well, and was a good twenty five paces ahead of her. it was long beyond twilight, and in the dusky moonlit darkness, the queen was fading rapidly onto the shadows. 'why isn't she waiting for me,' molly wondered, and automatically quickened her pace, concerned that she'd vanish, leaving molly all alone in the dark.  "there is no time to waste, baby girl." the queen called back to molly, her lilting voice carrying forth through the humid sea breeze infused darkness like elegant birdsong. the calmness of her answer to molly's unspoken question seemed to be in direct opposition to the rigid set of her shoulders and the haste of her steps. 'she has a plan,' molly surmised, and lacking an alternative, molly obediently followed her toward the road, eventually catching and matching her footfalls one for one. "what's the big hurry?" molly huffed impatiently when she'd caught up with her, annoyed and winded by the insistent pace.  the queen didn't answer right away, but rather looked up to the sky, and glancing sharply to her right, she raised her left hand and pointed to the brilliantly orange autumn full moon. her cloak slipped back toward her shoulder, revealing a slender yet toned arm. molly noticed the ring on the queen's third finger glint it's response to the moonlight, and she immediately considered that it looked like a diamond, but noticed that it was pink instead of the traditional clear color. 'looks like the tiger king has good taste in jewelry,' molly thought admiringly. it was on the tip of molly's tongue to ask the queen if her ring was some kind of rare pink diamond, however before she could utter the question, she felt her breath being taken away as she beheld with shocked recognition the delicate creamy white underside of the queen's wrist. she had a tiny tattoo....  it was just two lower case letters: "mg." it looked uncannily identical to the ones that she and graham often drew with sharpies upon their own left forearms, but yet the queen's looked as though it was the real thing. 'wonder why she'd have that?' molly thought. she opened her mouth to comment on the appearance of another strange coincidence, but was silenced once again when the queen spoke first.        "sometimes when the moon is full, things are not always as they seem....people are not who they seem. friends become strangers and strangers become friends." "but your tattoo....i noticed that you have 'mg' on your arm..." molly spoke breathlessly, her curiosity mixing with her confusion. "why?" she continued. "is it for us? just how much do you know about graham and me?" molly asked. "i know you inside and out....graham as well." she said gently, and placing her right arm around molly's shoulder, they walked along the seaside lane in companionable silence. 'there is so much i don't understand.' molly thought, shaking her head silently.  molly had not been paying attention to which direction they'd been walking, and was about to inquire as to the destination, when the queen suddenly made a swift left turn onto what seemed like a completely deserted side street. molly experienced a brief stab of deja vu when she beheld the sight before her. it was the most beautiful little gazebo she'd ever laid eyes upon. it was a rustic, open air, copper roofed hexagonal structure constructed with stone and rough hewn timber, with a gigantic stone fireplace inside. a fire was gently burning, as were dozens of candles and paper lanterns. molly thought it was beautiful, and couldn't wait to step up the three steps to get to the cozy inside. she and the queen entered together, and promptly sat down next to each other on the overstuffed down-filled blue and white gingham sofa. "what is this place?" molly asked quietly. "it seems so familiar." "this is now." the queen said, matter of factly, and she proceeded to open molly's copy of mg to the last page. she paused for a long moment, as she regarded the page that was obscured from molly's field of vision, and then suddenly she pointed to molly's chest, clearly indicating molly's heart when she spoke again. "you are who you are." "i'm not sure what you mean." molly uttered quietly into the fire-lit space between them. the queen held the mg into the light to allow molly to see the last page. "he is who he is as well, baby girl." molly's eyes widened with fear and concern, and hands flew to her face instinctively covering her open mouth in an attempt to mask the shock she felt. but the tears were uncontrollable and immediate. "is he going to be alright?" molly asked, barely able to get words past the lump of fear that had lodged into her throat.                    101024 ... cr0wl "molly?" dennis asked, one eyebrow lifting as though pulled up by the strings of a puppeteer. "yes," graham said, mirroring dennis's expectation and supposition. "let me see what i can do for you," he said, returning his fingers to the keyboard. he typed away and his staccato clicking sounded to graham like a song he had never heard before, like the rapid beating of his heart's lonely anticipation. he watched the screen flicker to life and images floated past him with kaleidoscopic wonder as if his life was flashing with flip book, animated accuracy before his eyes. vibrant colors colliding, fish with spotlight eyes, butterflies fluttering, tigers growling, air bubbles surfacing, rats scurrying for cover, leaves turned upside down in a storm, back-lit clouds racing past a full moon, blue spruce trees blanketed with snow, and then finally...there was new molly's innocent face filling the screen. she was the nine-year-old graham had last seen before he fell through the door he opened to his future. "why new molly?" he asked, his captivated face inches from the screen. "look at her. has she been asleep all this time?" "we are all asleep in someone else's world," dennis said. he stood up, staggered and stumbled about, and then reached up to the top shelf for a wooden box that had block letters with the words, "vandenberg tulips." he brought it down to the floor and removed a contraption resembling bulky headphones mashed up with a leather helmet of some sort connected to a network of wires and then fit it over graham's head. he did not resist nor did he question its relevance. "close your eyes," dennis said, leaning in close. his breath, a mixture of licorice and stale smoke did not dissuade him. in an odd way, he found it comforting. "you are about to enter molly's dream." graham sighed. happiness was not something he needed to seek. dennis went back to the keyboard and his fingers kneaded the letters like a newborn kitten urging its mother's milk to come in... graham closed his eyes and immediately sensed he was being transposed from one world to another, as though he was stepping inside new molly's sub conscious. in the theatre of his mind he beheld a group of teenagers gathered in a room. they were sitting in a circle, indian style, passing a bottle of wine to one another, sipping from it, and then passing it to the next person. graham watched molly, who was now 14 like himself, and directly across from him, accept the bottle from a stranger. she took a small sip and passed it on. when it finally reached him, graham found it was empty. "go ahead," new molly said, "spin it!" graham's eyes locked upon molly. they blinked at the same time. he obeyed and set the spent bottle of cab sav on the ground and twirled it. it clinked musically and a few drops flew out upon the spanish tile floor, staining it like blood. it spun three times and the neck pointed directly at molly. the small crowd of strangers, a mix of adolescent boys and girls encouraged him with a smattering of vocal thrusts. graham and molly stood at the same time. they took a few steps towards each other and stopped when their faces were separated only by a pause of decision. suddenly, everything went blank. 101026 ... crowli as old molly stared at the illustration of her graham, she continuously shook her head "no" as if her erupting emotions would make a bit of difference. the tears that filled her eyes seemed to draw forth from an endless source deep within her, and each time she squeezed her eyes shut in an endeavor to clear her vision, more tears appeared, blurring graham's image before flowing into tiny rivers down her cheeks without consideration of their destination. "go ahead and cry baby girl. but know that he's eventually going to be alright." the queen said as she stroked molly's back in broad swirling motions with an affectionate gesture of intended comfort. her gentle voice was filled with concern. molly couldn't know that the queen was so determined to offer the reassurance molly craved that she was bending the truth significantly while utilizing her acting skills wisely. in reality, she was terrified for graham, and furious with her king, for though she understood his reasoning, the queen had first-hand knowledge that dennis browne was nothing but trouble. knowledge that even her king was unaware of. "graham has traveled down a life-changing path,” she said, “but we need to trust that his inner strength will guide him. he is no different than you or me....we are faced with new decisions in every single moment." "this looks like much more than a bad decision," molly exclaimed, slapping at the book with an angry thrust of her wrist. her frustration had caused her voice to escalate into a panicky sing-song pitch that she did not recognize. the tears had seemed to slow down however, and pressing her lips into a thin line, molly studied the detailed picture in her battered 'mg' with razor sharp, newly cleansed vision. her graham and this mysterious dennis browne were obviously bonding, as they were sharing a bottle of something unknown that the sketch easily communicated as being delicious and desirable. molly shuddered, wondering how graham wasn't "grossed out" by sharing spit with a complete stranger; and a filthy one at that. graham was also holding a pipe in his left hand. though he wasn't smoking it per se, there was a cloud of smoke in front of him that suggested he had indeed indulged. the look in graham's eyes was what got to molly though. they were half open and half closed, and glistening as though he had been crying. molly twisted the red beads of her necklace around her pinky and wondered if graham was sad or simply wasted into ecstatic delirium. the queen watched molly silently but with intense scrutiny as the girl absently trailed her unadorned fingernail over the rendering of graham's obviously inebriated face. ‘there’s was only one way to describe that expression,’ the queen thought. molly sighed and closed her eyes, then rubbed the burn out of them as she sat up. straightening her shoulders, she spoke again. “he looks like he's out of his mind." molly’s voice was barely a whisper. “oh, baby…” she said softly, and bowing her head, her voice trailed off into silence as a single tear found its way to her lips. she tasted salt. molly couldn't put her finger on why the drawing had upset her so much, but she could honestly say she had never been so worried in her life. she and graham were no strangers to tasting the forbidden. they had been sneaking booze out of their own homes for months. in fact, it had been her idea the first time they’d taken a drink of alcohol. she smiled at the memory that still haunted her. 'but really, it was a most excellent day...'molly thought. they had packed a picnic lunch and hiked to the wishing_rock one sunny saturday afternoon last summer. graham had prepared a lunch of brie and jelly sandwiches, fresh mango, sparkling lemonade, and her favorite chocolate covered pretzels for dessert. molly had brought her over-sized fleece Steelers blanket, candles to keep the bugs away, and as an afterthought, she’d swiped a bottle of pinot noir from the back of her parents’ liquor cabinet. molly remembered feeling so grown up as she’d carefully wrapped the two wine glasses and the corkscrew in red and green plaid kitchen towels before stuffing the whole treasure into her backpack. she’d wanted to surprise graham. molly recalled how they’d laid out the blanket and set up their feast, and how graham had gasped when she pulled out the bottle of wine. “why’d you bring that?” he’d said, almost accusatory. she had been nervous that she’d crossed a line, but for just a second, because graham then let a big belly laugh escape and said, “come on, give me the opener! let’s toast to all kinds of crazy shit!” they had been children about to cross a bridge. graham had watched his parents open wine so many times that he immediately, and quite expertly opened the bottle and poured both of them a healthy full glass. they clinked their glasses together and toasted to “molly and graham.” and_so, across the bridge they went. but not very far... they’d each had one glass, and had been so tipsy and giddy that all they could do was laugh. graham had gone to pour the second glass, and the whole bottle had slipped out of his hand. when the glass bottle impacted the wishing rock, it quite literally exploded into ten million shards of glass, and the wine had sprayed everywhere, including onto their clothing, but they were too lost in the moment to care. they had joked that they’d christened the rock like a ship preparing to depart on its maiden voyage. still giggling, they’d laid on their backs, shoulder to shoulder on the giant blanket, and soaking up the afternoon warmth, played a game of guessing what animals each other thought the clouds resembled. molly would never forget how she felt that day. something inside her had changed. it had confused her, and she was not sure if it had been the little bit of wine, the picnic, the setting, or just being there with graham that had made her feel such bliss, but when she’d lain next to him that day and he'd reached over to hug her, she wrapped her arms around him and held him as if she’d never wanted to let him go. sighing and slipping out of her reverie, molly glanced at the queen, and noticed that she had fallen asleep on the sofa next to her. molly studied the woman pensively, and could see that her intricately painted disguise was beginning to fade. she had smudged the beautiful butterfly design, and upon closer inspection, molly detected the tiny gathering of wrinkles etched in the corners of both her eyes. she looked worried, even in her passive slumber. molly bit her lip uncertainly as she stared out into the night sky. graham may have taken things a little too far this time, but she needed him to be alright. she had to find him. molly made a wish on the first star she caught a glimpse of.... ...for the tiger king to help her find graham. 101026 ... . mg_09 101027 what's it to you? who go blather from