as your worries crawl around inside your clothes

And your hands are really shakin’ somethin’ awful
As you light your twenty-seventh cigarette
Oh, how long have you been sittin’ in the darkness
You forget...

Patience. It's not one of my virtues. I saw an ex-lover tonight, ex-demon, now small and semi-helpless neko--the form chosen deliberately, to distance himself from the six feet of crimson he used to be--and I happened to mention the vacations, current and upcoming, of my loves. He told me he'd always be willing to play...and then said he had to leave.

Such is the way of the life, right now. Yes, I'm understanding the point, O my gods, you don't need to drum it in by mallet.

Oh, you know you’re gettin’ really hard to be with
And you’re cryin’ every time you turn around
And you wonder why you cannot pick your head up
Off the ground...

No tears, not now at least, not yet, but melancholy, we have in abundance...went dancing with a casual acquaintance in a new club this afternoon, as a break from building, as a way to connect with people...half an hour into dancing, he said we should probably move from slow dancing to something more active, like a salsa, or a tango...because otherwise people might think we were in love.

We weren't in love, he knew that, I knew that, but it still felt like a slap in the face. Yes, gods forbid, you should fall in love with me...even though you were talking about "Embracing" me the day previous, the "highest honor" an "ancient Vampyr" could bestow...

...on the other hand, I turned him down on that offer, because my shifter blood has enough problems...Maybe I deserved a slightly curt, 'we're only friends' answer...and be fair, we were...sort of...as friendly as I can be with someone I barely know...

Oh, my crazy baby
Try to hold on tight
Oh, my crazy baby
Don’t put out the light...
The light, the light, the light

Yesterday I carefully laid out twenty-eight prims, intricately turned, intricately patterned, whorls upon swirls upon twists, adding rotation scripts and light scripts and watching the structure, finished, as it cast light over my face in turning patterns.

Then I deleted the whole thing and went home to curl up in the laundry basket, watching the world go by until I fell asleep. Even now I don't feel any great pain of loss. I'll recreate it or I won't; I'll redo it or I won't; it's just a thing. I can remake it. If it crosses my mind.

And they look at you like they don’t speak your language
And you’re living at the bottom of a well
And you’ve swallowed all the awful bloody secrets
But you can’t tell...

He says he's there for me. I know he is, but...I fear asking. I fear hurting him again. So I talk to him across the miles, tentative conversation, learning to smile in his presence again, even if distantly. The heart may be healing, but the head still worries. It's always my way.

I don't even want someone to make my breath catch, pull me from slumbering senses into gasping, each inch of skin alive and aching, everything in me yearning for the other that brings me to such heights...not even that. I have this wistful little want of being held, because I think something in me feels it's all I deserve, and even that I do not, cannot, have, right now.

Oh, you know you ought to get yourself together
But you cannot bear to walk outside your door
No, you cannot bear to look into the mirror
Anymore...

And the leash for my pet trails on the ground, unhooked, because my pet is flipping in and out of limbo more than I do on high-limbo days. I am alone...again. As I apparently am meant to be.

I'll wait for him here, in this place where I am the only living thing until the waterline, but I don't hold out great hope.

Oh, my crazy baby
Try to hold on tight
Oh, my crazy baby
Don’t put out the light...
The light, the light, the light

And I am uninspired to finish the fifteen-piece outfit; I'll make an attempt again tomorrow. I'm uninspired to finish the skybox revision I'm currently working on; I'm pressing through because I feel if I don't, I'll have this hapless feeling of uselessness that will set in, and damn it, I'm not useless.

I'm just...getting towards depressed, and far past turning the corner on resigned, and...I may sleep in tomorrow. For hours.

And your hands are really shakin’ somethin’ awful
As your worries climb around inside your clothes
Oh, how long will you be sittin’ in the darkness
Heaven knows...

Maybe tomorrow I'll work on the new house more. All I have inside are cushions, and all of them on the upper level, though I did put out the well-armed welcome mat, so to speak...big gold pentacle with all the guns in the universe, tucked inside. It still makes me smile.

And I have the autumn trees, and the sapphire ball of glowing light, and maybe I'll set out some tombstones, depending. Don't know.

It's very odd, this mood. It's depressive, but it doesn't feel half so dark; it's contemplative, but I don't necessarily care about the outcome.

The Hanged Man
Card Number: XII
Key Number: 23
Rulership: Water
Hebrew Letter: Mem
Translation: Water
Numerical Value: 3

"The devotion to worthwhile causes, the life in suspension, the willingness to wait and listen. Sacrifice in the present for benefit in future. The period of waiting. Necessary cessation. Rebirth, transformation, change in circumstance.

Sacrifice of one thing to gain another.

To stop resisting, to make oneself vulnerable, to exist at the whim of the higher mind and trust the universe will respond. A time of trial, meditation, selflessness, sacrifice, to gain enlightenment, intuitive understanding, and prophecy.

Answers that eluded comprehension will become clear in time. Solutions to problems will be found. All things in time, all things to those who wait, suspended, existing on breath and lack of desire.

Timelessless. Suspension. The feel of the frozen spaces and the lack of change."

That's where I am.

Oh, my crazy baby
Try to hold on tight
Oh, my crazy baby
Don’t put out the light...
The light, the light, the light
The light...

Frozen between the human face and the pale kitten and never another form explored. Frozen between wanting and not wanting. Frozen between reaching out and pulling back. Frozen between waiting and giving up. Frozen between creation and stagnation.

That's where I am. How long it lasts...is up to the universe.

(Song is Joan Osborne's "Crazy Baby".)