Thursday, October 7, 2010


I was riding home late last night, practicing my breathing as I peddled. I rode past a house burning wood in a wood stove, thinking of a day when that was the norm, how foul the air was in the city, and how short the life span. Thinking of the new stoves that burn most of the heavier particulates and so, burn much cleaner. Smelling elsewhere, leaves burning, smoke filling the roadway, thinking how much more affective leaves are as a mulch than ash, particularly when shredded and slightly composted; and speculating about their use, in bags, as a loft insulation. Also, how unpleasant the city smells so much of the time, and how important life in all its variation is to cleansing the air.

Then I came to my house. Within fifty paces of the corner of my lot I was enveloped by the smell of grapes, both fresh and fermenting. A sweet and pleasant smell. Softening. I smiled.

My house was in fine shape, though I'd forgotten my key at Monster-Halloween. Crawled through a window protected by an ancient tea rose and a web of morning glory vines, the latter still holding my feet as I lay on my sun room floor. I danced awhile, dreamt a fine dream about the fairy, and slept for eight full hours. In the morning I gathered the front yard squash and placed them in the musty basement. I'll have to clean this house well before any fairy will enter. I called out to the Goddess to protect my house, before leaving.

On the way to work, leaves falling, whirling in the street, that essence of Autumn in the air, that fond feeling, I thought about a class. I think I'll call it, "Awaken to your Dragon, Homo sapien sapien." Charge on a sliding scale. I know of a venue, home to a troupe of radically feminine martial art practitioners.

I have bills to pay, a house to transform into an off-the-grid marvel, a woman to impress, and it's the only thing I can think to do that involves the making of money, besides writing (at which I make a great deal of satisfaction), that makes me happy.

I know a guy who leads a dragon training. If he can do it, I can.

At Monster Halloween, we are preparing for this weekend's Zombie Pub Crawl. As of Tuesday there were nearly 10,000 zombie-wannabes registered. Some of the staff will be at the U of M, dressed as zombies, Thursday and Friday, handing out fliers. We have a guy in-house who's done makeup for 40+ zombie films. I'm going Uptown to the clubs, full-on zombified, Thursday night. I'll stumble in, find a place to dance, and stumble out, placing a few hundred fliers in peoples hands in the process.

Thinking of my grapes, I hope they are what the big man with the white bull dog was thinking of, when he said I was going to have some visitors this week. I encourage those kind, who want to smell grapes.

My grapes and boulevard wildflowers

My front yard amaranth and potatoes

My front yard squash

My front door.

Hey, it's welcoming to the birds and pollinators. And I hope, to a fairy.

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