The 5M is on fire right now with two postings daily. Fortunately, the team will be reassembled tomorrow to respond to this crisis. Coyote has been working overtime. I'm sure that 4D would have cancelled his pirate event had he known this was going to be a crisis weekend for the 5M.
As that slimebag, Aporia, points out, there are a few pieces missing in the narrative. However, here are the highlights of the crisis weekend:
1) She and M are "on the outs". Quelle surprise!
2) M told his ex-girlfriend, Cece, to call the 5M -- to console her? What a thoughtful idea...
3) The 5M is dating again -- on lavalife? Should we send one of the CRTF agents in to look for a profile?
4) The 16-year old Bridgehead kid told her she was on the way to cougar territory. Not a helpful thing to say to the 5M right now.
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Sunday
Not yet a cooling of summer
Our muse enters half-reluctantly into a single life, at the bursting height of a summer that she imagines cools. Yes, summers all cool, but not this one, just yet. The leaves are still a sharp green. Only later will their colour dull and darken, as they weigh under a season's age.
My pack are off for now -- Agatha riding the 4:10 from Paddington, Dwarf at a pirate festival, Siren luring hapless sailors to her rocky ledge, perhaps not unadjacent to them noisy pirates. Apostle is apparently getting another transfusion, and I imagine Conch rolling gently in the surf at the edge of some white sandy beach. The Independent Observer polishes his spyglass and his mutable persona. Me? I'm a lone coyote for the moment. But, I hasten to add after yesterday, not lonely at all. I'm happy in my many pursuits, and there's much happening. And hey. I'm agile enough if it falls to me, soon enough, to turn out this blog's lights when it's time to leave. Meantime, we're still open here.
Muse's beginning-poem sounds melancholic. And she blames her chill on a season that barely wanes, when anyone can see it comes from an interior place. Hell, it's only just the last day of July! There's still all of August, and if my baying at Moon has anything to do with it, September and a goodly bite of October, too. Indian summer is my time, for obvious reasons, and it could be hers as well -- at the risk of repeating myself, if she lets it.
Already she ponders finding another lover. It would be better for her if she takes time alone to consider the fit of her own skin, and learns to love that, rather than leaping into some ill-starred, too-soon, 'affair-of-something-that-is-not-the-heart'. That would be like try to heal a third-degree sunburn under one of those tanning lamps upstairs from the new Bridgehead.
Her poem -- her life -- is a roughish diamond yet, but with the makings of something fine. She needs to live with it, polish it awhile, before that will happen.
And I note that Dwarf's dislike of this Opportunistic Abhoria character is well-placed. He's bad news. His over-enthusiastic, ingratiating, transparent snuffling and grovelling about the place, especially now, bespeaks a clumsy predator weaselling in for a chomp. Us metaphysical coyotes are connoisseurs of all sorts of predation -- it's a fine wine -- but this guy is an ill-aged plonk with a bad finish. He smells rotten.
My pack are off for now -- Agatha riding the 4:10 from Paddington, Dwarf at a pirate festival, Siren luring hapless sailors to her rocky ledge, perhaps not unadjacent to them noisy pirates. Apostle is apparently getting another transfusion, and I imagine Conch rolling gently in the surf at the edge of some white sandy beach. The Independent Observer polishes his spyglass and his mutable persona. Me? I'm a lone coyote for the moment. But, I hasten to add after yesterday, not lonely at all. I'm happy in my many pursuits, and there's much happening. And hey. I'm agile enough if it falls to me, soon enough, to turn out this blog's lights when it's time to leave. Meantime, we're still open here.
Muse's beginning-poem sounds melancholic. And she blames her chill on a season that barely wanes, when anyone can see it comes from an interior place. Hell, it's only just the last day of July! There's still all of August, and if my baying at Moon has anything to do with it, September and a goodly bite of October, too. Indian summer is my time, for obvious reasons, and it could be hers as well -- at the risk of repeating myself, if she lets it.
Already she ponders finding another lover. It would be better for her if she takes time alone to consider the fit of her own skin, and learns to love that, rather than leaping into some ill-starred, too-soon, 'affair-of-something-that-is-not-the-heart'. That would be like try to heal a third-degree sunburn under one of those tanning lamps upstairs from the new Bridgehead.
Her poem -- her life -- is a roughish diamond yet, but with the makings of something fine. She needs to live with it, polish it awhile, before that will happen.
And I note that Dwarf's dislike of this Opportunistic Abhoria character is well-placed. He's bad news. His over-enthusiastic, ingratiating, transparent snuffling and grovelling about the place, especially now, bespeaks a clumsy predator weaselling in for a chomp. Us metaphysical coyotes are connoisseurs of all sorts of predation -- it's a fine wine -- but this guy is an ill-aged plonk with a bad finish. He smells rotten.
Saturday
Having the Garbo epiphany
Finally! She's thought about her relationship with M, and she wants to be alone. I applaud heartily. Well, as heartily as a guy with hair tufts between his footpads and fairly long claws is able...
My observations of human nature suggest that there comes a time in any relationship when one decides whether they're fishin' or cuttin' bait. She and M. have been cuttin' bait for over a year. Whether he ever intended to drop a line into the water is a moot point here, because this has been about 5M's own expectations and hopes fogging her ability to assess the real relationship. I've heard of rose-coloured glasses, and I think this might be what the term means. I'll have to take that on faith, though, since we canines are somewhat colourblind. But ya get what I mean.
Other issue, and perhaps the one that's kept her in this self-imposed purgatory: it'll mean that she will be alone, and perhaps lonely. I note that there is a dread of aloneness in modern man, perhaps an atavistic throwback to a time when people (with very slopey foreheads) banded together to watch each others' (extremely hairy) backs. I found them an amusingly dull-witted lot to play with, back in my long-ago kit-hood, but not without their own slow ability.
But here I want to point out the very great difference between alone-ness and loneliness. Aloneness may be quite pleasant and profitable, if one is comfortable in one's own skin, and likes oneself. There is much room for growth in this blessed state, if one gives it room. Loneliness is a cramped condition of the spirit, and a whole unpleasent other thing.
Our Muse has begun to realise that one can be physically close to a person (to the point of tearing down shower curtains together) for, say, a year, yet remain quite lonely if one's emotional needs continually remain unmet. She points out that it's better to be alone than to stay in the relationship. It has sounded to me to be at the least unsatisfying and at the most toxic, and it hasn't changed. A long-looked-for revelation for the Muse. And, I hope against hope, finally a time for her to move on.
Thursday
Breaking news: Minty's got Connor
Some of us have been concerned about the fate of the 5M's kittens after they got dumped off at the vet's. Mintyfr*sh seems to be fostering a cute little orange fellow named....you guessed it--Connor!!
Wednesday
Field Work at Spins'n'Needles
Agatha and I had a fine time at Spins'n'Needles this evening. Once again, I made the craft provided while Agatha did some cartooning.
I made the first in what I hope will be an entire line of games based on the 5M's life. This is one of those ones where you have to get little silver balls representing 5M and M in the right holes. Here they are together at the Elgin BH:
The under-side gives you the points to play for depending on whether you want to be 5M or M.
For her cartooning, Agatha decided to go meta-self-referential.
I made the first in what I hope will be an entire line of games based on the 5M's life. This is one of those ones where you have to get little silver balls representing 5M and M in the right holes. Here they are together at the Elgin BH:
The under-side gives you the points to play for depending on whether you want to be 5M or M.
For her cartooning, Agatha decided to go meta-self-referential.
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