[Essay] What is nature?

This was an assignment out of the textbook that asked us to write about what nature is to us.

Nature is not what we’ve been conditioned to think it is. It does not mean trees and forests and animals and oceans and jungles. You’d be closer to a metaphorical truth if you said it was the daily struggle for life and death between the wild animals in those places. You’d be even closer if you related the struggle to the cycle of the seasons, or the star-stuff that Carl Sagan says that we are all made of.

Nature is what was begun millions of years ago in the primordial soup, when lightning struck a particular chemical and molecular flavor, and the predecessors to one-celled bacteria began doing their thing. Nature is that one week when god said, “let it be,” and it was, ending with two (or three) humans. Nature is the rolling-up and unrolling that was supposed to happen when enough Native Americans had performed the Ghost Dance. Every creation myth ever written shows us what nature is, and lets it sit there, in the back of our minds, folded up and stashed in an unnameable shape.

Just like life, death, and taxes, nature simply is.

[Essay] The Writing Process

This assignment was to describe how you get ready to write.

While there aren’t any hard and fast conditions that I need to write, there are some situations in which inspiration is far more likely to slap me in the head. My favorite setting is a greasy spoon restaurant, preferably 24-hours. Either a journal or my dinosaur laptop is in front of me, sitting next to a cup of bad, highly-creamed and highly-sugared coffee. I prefer the smoking section, despite not being a smoker. The atmosphere just seems to have more grit, more grime, and more reality. I can look up and always see a regular, usually trading snide remarks with a waitress. They let me sit, headphones on, and always keep my coffee full. Little grease or coffee stains on the journals add character for posterity.

When a story starts to move my pen – never a pencil – I lose any track of time. Hours, minutes, it doesn’t matter. I’m lost in the act, lost in the pictures and scenes in my head. The smell of fries blends with the dusky scent of a castle or keep. The cream twisting in the hot coffee becomes fog or strange-colored smoke twisting around and through a ghastly and skeletal apparition.

The images in my mind flow and stutter so quickly that if I type a story from the beginning, it jerks and twitches instead of flowing. I was so frustrated by this when I started my novel, until I picked up a lab book, barely touched. Forcing myself to hand-write slowed me down and made me consider detail and progression as I put the story on paper. It began to flow, make more sense, and I was able to get more down the slow way. Irony and irony and irony.

There is another situation in which inspiration will regularly visit. The great sternum-vibrating bass of a dance or electronica club, the smoke and dancing and black-lite and people-watching seem to just pull a story out of me. There’s something about watching the near-ecstatic bodies on the dance floor and the preening of the socialites and the mechanics of the mob at the bar that either unlock or just give me idea after idea.

In either of these settings, I’m usually able to relax and forget that people may be looking at me. It’s like a giant sigh and sitting in your favorite chair. It’s like finally letting the day go as you surrender to sleep. It’s like stepping over your home’s threshhold.

[] Todd returns the jar.

This is the final entry of Todd’s story.

I left my throne a million miles away
I drink from your tit
I sing your blues every day
Now give me the strength
To split the world in two yeah
I ate all the rest and now I’ve gotta eat you

Well I sing

Built in my nightmares and using my name
You’re stroking my cortex and you know I’m insane
I’m squeezed out in hump drive and drownin’ in love
Encompass them all to a position above
Monster Magnet, “Space Lord”

No change registered in Dr. Celestine’s expression; his face was still stone. He lifted the snifter to his mouth, and drank the liquor in one go. He sat the glass down next to the bottle, and visibly relaxed back into the chair. “Continue, Todd. You’ve got my full attention, dangerous as such a thing is.”

“There is a jar that has been missing from your Carnival for a long time. It probably disappeared in the middle of the mess with your artist and when your Freak Show master left. Lots of hubub, lots of ups and downs during that whole thing.” Todd’s voice, as well as his vocabulary, kept cycling between teenager and old man. It didn’t seem to bug Celestine, but Thunk winced every time that it happened. “At least, that would be my guess after reading all of the stories that Ralph found on the internet. I have to admit that whatever you did to stop them from writing was very effective. A font of information, whether any of those things actually happened or not, about you.

“Anyway, that missing jar was pretty important. I mean, you took it out of the trailer, here, and gave it to Mary for a reason. You could have simply entrusted it to her care, but instead you literally gave it to her. She was even able to keep the fact that it was missing concealed from you for, well, a long time. Once you found out, though, it couldn’t have taken you very long to figure out that it had gone missing the very weekend that Old Ralph had visited your Carnival. The same exact time that it unlocked something in him that could undo you. Once you figured that out, it was even easier to figure out that he’d only visited one attraction.”

Dr. Celestine nodded, a slow smile creeping over his face. “Bloody Mary Black’s Freak Show.” He poured himself another glass of brandy, setting the bottle carefully back on his end table.

“Damn skippy. So, the next idea that makes sense is that Ralph lifted the jar from Mary, and used it to track you through space and time. But that’s the bitch of it, Doc. Old Ralph never stole the jar. Whatever was opened up in Ralph, and now me, was done by the cage in the Feak Show. Mary was waiting for him, with the jar, when he got out of that fuckin’ crazy cage. She gave it to him, told him something that scared the bejeezus out of him, and told him to run for his life. And he did. Only, he couldn’t get this place out of his head because as much as he was its un-maker or whatever, he was still a part of it. And now I am.”

Dr. Celestine stopped swirling his glass, and set it down. His smile was full-blown, now, and he didn’t bother to hide it. “You mean to tell me that you’ve come back here entirely for the selfless return of property stolen by one of my employees?”

Todd coughed and looked at the floor. “Yeah. I mean, well…”

Dr. Celestine laughed, just as he’d done in Ralph’s library, from the gut. It filled the trailer and bounced off of the jars. “It was certainly one of your reasons, young Todd. Of that I have no doubt. However.” He slowly and dramatically pulled an ID card from his vest pocket. It had a spot where you could attach a clip or a lanyard. It had Sheila’s picture on it, next to the words “Hot Topic Employee.” He placed the card next to the bottle, his smile never even flickering.

It was Todd’s turn to wear the stony expression.

“It seems that it was not your only reason. Sheila now holds the golden ticket. She’s wandering through the Hall of Mirrors at this very moment. It’s a very noble thing that you’ve done for her, Todd. As any others that walk under my sign, she’s got a chance at survival, a chance at madness, and a chance at death. Luckily, I’m not as blinded as Mary is. You know that I won’t offer her a home, or a job. What do you expect to get out of squeezing a life’s worth of risk into a day or two?”

Todd stood up, and Thunk followed suit. “If she hadn’t been pushed, she would have lived her entire life with her eyes closed, and would have thanked god for it. Now, she doesn’t have that option, and her pride won’t let her fail. Now, if she survives, she’ll at least be something more than that.” Todd scowled after spitting out the last word.

Dr. Celestine laughed again, and the world seemed to reel for a moment. “Playing at deity, even with the best intentions, is the surest way to disaster.” He raised his glass to Todd, and then to Thunk. He drank it all at once, as if it was a shot. “Except, of course, at Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls.”

Todd reached into his jacket and slowly pulled out a mason jar. It gave off the murky light of storm clouds. The miniature palm trees inside were whipped by wind and lashed by rain. The hurricane inside was strong and angry, as it had always been. “What is this, Dr. Celestine?” He handed the jar over.

“This, my new adversary, is a jar full of destruction.”

End of Todd

[] Todd tells Doc how it is.

This is part 21 of Todd’s story.


Empty spaces, what are we waiting for
Abandoned places, I guess we know the score
On and on, does anybody know what we are looking for
Another hero, another mindless crime
Behind the curtain in the pantomime
Hold the line, does anybody want to take it anymore

The show must go on, The show must go on
Inside my heart is breaking
My make-up may be flaking, but my smile… still stays on
Queen, “The Show Must Go On”

Dr. Celestine sat in the only chair in the room. The well-worn leather was practically molded to fit the Scotsman from frequent and long use. He held a glass of brandy in one hand, and a bloody silk hankerchief in the other. He had a small cut, apparently made by a shard of glass, on his forehead. He regularly dabbed at this with the square of silk.

“I understand that punctuality is not a virtue of the young, Todd, but you must admit that I have been waiting for you for some time.” The Doctor took a gulp from his snifter and stared levelly at Todd. Thunk bristled, but did nothing. “Come now, did you think that I would not notice your leavings and arrivals?” He swirled the liquor in the glass.

Todd smiled. He sat on the floor, cross-legged. Thunk followed suit, and Dr. Celestine’s expression grew hard. “I remember now, Doc. So, you can quit treating me like one of your employees. I don’t fall for the all-knowing bit.” Thunk nervously cleared his throat. “We made a stop at a warehouse, one you’ve visited.” Todd stared the universal force that was Dr. Celestine in the eyes. “The Symmetrical Man is dead. Every single one of his jars is gone. I know that there are others like you and I, but I also know that he was the only Celestine yet rejected by the Carnival. There will be another Dr. Celestine when it is time for you to leave, but there will be no Symmetrical Men.” Thunk shifted, as his legs fell asleep, but did not rise.

Dr. Celestine’s face was stone, but his eyes shone with the power and purpose of his Carnival. “You are not here to unmake me. Nor is this gratitude for having made you.” The liquor swirled gently in the glass; these were not questions.

“No, I’m here to return something that was stolen from you.”

Sheila caught her breath as she leaned up against the tent-post of the Hall of Mirrors. She looked back down the causeway, and realized that she’d ran nearly the entire length of the Carnival. The only thing that was farther from the entrance than the Hall of Mirrors was the ridemaster’s booth. The rides were scattered throughout the Carnival, but both the roller coaster and the Ferris Wheel boarded back there, so that’s where his trailer and booth were.

There was no sign of the dead-eye clown with the balloons, so Sheila let herself relax a bit. She took out her golden ticket once more, finally noticing that it had reverted to its normal gold foil. What the hell had Todd been thinking when he gave her this thing? She was just along for the ride; she wasn’t involved in any of this. She flipped the ticket over, looking at the list of attractions. Bloody Mary Black’s Freak Show was the only one marked as attended.

Cigar smoke wafted nearby, and a gruf woman’s voice said, “That’s an old ticket you’ve got there. I haven’t run the freakshow in quite a while. I’m surprised the Ticketmaster let you in with it.” Sheila jumped and looked up. The woman put her cigar back between her teeth and looked Sheila up and down. Sheila was sure that this was the woman in the silver-print. Her hair was cut almost exactly the same. Her lithe build and stance reminded her of a wolf even more in person than it had in the silver print.

“You’re Bloody Mary Black?” Sheila tried to step back, but nearly tripped over a tent line.

“You were maybe expecting Kim Basinger?” She snorted. “So, what’s a nice, young, not-so-innocent girl like you doing at the Carnival? Sheila, right? Looking to finish out that Golden Ticket?” Sheila nodded dumbly. “Hmph. Not sure you’ve got what it takes for one of those, girly. That’s an all-access back-stage pass to everything you didn’t want to know about you and about the world. I steer clear of the gold ones, myself.”

Sheila had seen all kinds of wierd shit go down lately, and she was not about to let some old carnie bitch tell her what she could and couldn’t do. “Sorry, lady, this was a gift. I intend to visit every attraction I can. Thanks SO much for the help.” She flashed Bloody Mary a petulant smile, and entered the Hall of Mirrors.

Mary grinned a predator’s grin, and strolled back to the Labrynth.

In the basement of Todd’s house, the hurricane in the jar swirled and boiled; lightning flashes illuminated the basement room.

The mountain’s coming
He’s walking down your street
The mountain’s coming
He’s got wings on his feet
There’s two suns in the sky today
And one’s at your door
When you feed the mountain
He’s gonna feed you some more
And then you know
No time for heaven or hell
Just try to understand each other baby
Down in the gravity well
Monster Magnet, “Gravity Well”

[] Todd loses Sheila.

This is part 20 of Todd’s story.


You think I’m blind, I can see for miles
You think I’m happy ’cause I smile
But beneath flies a bird with a neck for a noose and bricks for cargo
You think I’m blind, I can see for miles
You think I’m gonna fake this smile
But I’ll turn it loose on stones and air with its guts for cargo
And its pockets full, and its pockets full
There’s a whole full of old blind men pointing in one direction
With their pockets full
So blind, they’re tripping over their own deception
With their pockets full
Ruby, “Cargo”

It was never the sights of a carnival that stuck in Todd’s memory; it was always the smells. Fresh sawdust, animals, sweat, cotton candy… it was enough to stick in your mind for the rest of your life. He inhaled deeply, relishing the memories that had happened before and after his time. Sheila and Thunk flanked him, seemingly expecting the worst. Todd exhaled slowly, trying to figure out their next step. He’d smelled fear in the Carnival, and that was right. This place should fear him, because he could un-make it. Of course, that would probably kill him in the process. And then it hit him.

Todd crumpled to the ground as a rubber juggling ball bounced off of the back of his head. Sheila and Thunk spun around to see a juggling clown approaching them. It wore an enormous smile, and it was moving slowly through the crowd of Carnival-goers. He was juggling quickly and skillfully, smiling as he walked. Todd moaned and tried to sit up. Thunk placed himself between the clown and Todd. Sheila just had time to yelp as she was picked up by her shoulders from behind. She was moved away from Todd, and set down. She whirled around to face a clown that had at least a foot on her. It was smiling, but that only made it more fearsome, instead of friendly. Its teeth gave the impression of being sharp and pointed, and its eyes were dull and dead. “Ticket.” Its voice sounded like bones rubbing together.

Sheila shakily held up her golden ticket stub. The clown looked at it closely, without touching it. It looked at her with its dead eyes and nodded. It unraveled a balloon string from around its arm and handed her a green balloon. Sheila suddenly realized that this frightening creature was letting her go, and she ran off without a second thought. She didn’t stop until she reached the Hall of Mirrors.

Todd stood up shakily. His head had already been hurting from the boot to the head that he’d received from the Symmetrical Man. Now, it throbbed as the world undulated and refused to focus. There was a vaguely person-ish shape in front of him whom he immediately recognized as Thunk. There were others, raging with color everywhere but their ghost-white faces. He steadied himself on Thunk’s shoulder and whispered in his ear, “They can’t kill us here. But, apparently, they can kick the crap out of us.” Todd shook his head, trying to clear it. Something familiar was trying to get recognition from his conscious mind. Someone was playing music close by. It was, appropriately, a carnival tune, but it was haunting and old. Todd turned around, and saw that the clowns had surrounded them. This was wrong; he hadn’t done anything to have the clowns attack him. He hadn’t endangered anyone or anything. Neither of them had earned the dreaded “Fetch.”

It was calliope music. It was the Carnival’s song that had enraptured Ralph so deeply that his heart ached when it wasn’t playing in his head. He’d missed it enough to install his own in his home. Their home. Todd’s home.

Todd knelt and picked up the rubber ball. “They’re herding us, Thunk.” He pointed, still palming the rubber ball, at Dr. Celestine’s trailer. “That’s where we’re going.” The clowns – all four of them now – backed off a step or two. Todd turned to the juggler. He whipped the rubber ball back to him, and it was deftly caught and added to the four balls already in the air. “Fuck you.” One by one, all five rubber balls hit the dust. Todd turned and walked toward the Doctor’s trailer. The clown’s makeup began to run, more quickly and fluidly than a downpour could have done, off of his face and hands. Thunk followed Todd, staring at the clown over his shoulder. The clown’s suit seemed to dissolve, revealing ancient finery underneath. His skin was nearly golden-colored and his gaping, surprised mouth had two fangs protruding from his upper jaw. Life, after a fashion, returned to his eyes. The sound of shattering glass came from inside the trailer, followed quickly by a bellowed curse.

The other clowns were distracted for just a moment, and the vampire made a bee-line for the gate that was both exit and entrance to this place. They followed it with inhuman speed, and none of the customers – the rubes – had noticed a damn thing.

Todd and Thunk gazed in awe at the ancient circus trailer. Every piece, no matter how functional, was adorned with carving and gilt, if not bright paint. It wasn’t garish, but it wasn’t exactly pleasing to the eye. There were windows, but they seemed to be blocked by heavy curtains. Todd took a deep breath, and knocked soundly on the door three times. It opened slowly and smoothly, without a single creak. Just inside the door stood Dr. Celestine, sans hat and coat. He was holding a silk hankercheif to a spot just above his eye.

“Ah, yes, Todd. You’re late.” Todd and Thunk exchanged surprised glances. “Don’t stand out there like two rubes. Come in!”

Give me your kings let me squeeze then in my hands
Your puny princes, Your so called leaders of your land
I’ll eat them whole before I’m done
The battle’s fought and the game is won
I am the one the only one, I am the god of kingdom come
Gimme the prize just gimme the prize
Queen, “Gimme the Prize (Kurgan’s Theme)”

Here goes nothing.

In the attempt to become a paid fiction writer, I’ve sent off a finished version of Two Vampires to Black October Magazine. My fingers are crossed.

Hey , I had some more ideas about Adam that would let both of us get paid for writing it. You and I should sit down and talk, big-time.

On my way to participate in a focus group for class extra credit. Man, I missed being a nerd. :)

[] Todd meets the Ticketmaster.

This is part 19 of Todd’s story.


It just takes a minute
And you’ll feel no pain
Gotta make something of your life boy
Give me one more vein
You’ve come to see the doctor
Cause I’ll show you the cure
I’m gonna take away the questions
Yeah I’m gonna make you sure
– Queensryche, “Operation: Mindcrime”

Todd sat in the middle of the back seat, watching the city fall away and turn into suburbs. Ever since he had entered the warehouse, he had known certain things about the Carnival. He had known about the Symmetrical Man, and about his relationship with Dr. Celestine. Todd was pretty sure that this was all information that was written inside Ralph’s old journal. He was also pretty sure that the imbalance he had caused was needed if he was to have a purpose. If he was to return to his house. He mumbled, “I am here because I intend on continuing to exist, in this form or one very close to it.”

Sheila looked back at him. “What does that mean?”

Todd leaned forward, and she shrank away a bit. “Something Dr. Celestine said to me while you and Thunk were upstairs.” Sheila blushed deeply. “He manipulated you, Sheila. Both the Symmetrical Man and Thunk used you to fuck with me.” She glanced fearfully at Thunk, and then stared at him, as if she was trying to read his soul.

“Neither of them could take what I wasn’t willing to give them, Todd.” She began to cry again, and faced forward with a set jaw. Todd leaned back against the back seat. Rage, jealousy, and hurt bubbled up within him, and then fell away. It felt as if they were someone else’s feelings, experienced by proxy. She was his girlfriend, and he was wronged by her infidelity. Compared to the Carnival, and to the game that was being played throughout time, it was so small. Todd was deeply afraid for a moment; he had nearly no idea what kind of being he was becoming, or if he was even still human.

Suburbia fell away, and the wide open fields of autumn farms surrounded them. “Almost there, Todd,” Thunk reported. Todd nodded. He would be unquestioning and fiercely loyal. He would do anything Todd asked, without limit. Without free will, there was no conscience, no responsibility. To Thunk, it was the ultimate freedom, when to so many, it would be a prison. Todd watched Sheila for a few minutes, and wondered just how few were left in this world that would see it that way. He shook his head, and Thunk pulled into a field-turned-parking lot. A short distance away stood the carved arch of a sign. Dr. Celestine’s face smiled down at those entering and leaving his Carnival of Souls. As dusk finished falling, the lights switched on, and the Carnival shone with color and motion. It was a beacon in the night.

Thunk pulled the car into a space, turned off the lights and engine, and yanked the parking brake into place. Sheila got out of the passenger side, and Thunk held the driver’s door open for Todd to get out of the back seat. His face was still quite swollen, but he could see out of both eyes. He noticed that while Sheila was nervous as hell, he was calm. That made sense to him, though. His job was clear. Hers was still entirely up in the air.

Todd walked to the bank of ticket-sellers, and his two friends followed. The carnie looked up at him, and he held up two fingers. He smirked painfully as he paid for two insanely over-priced admittance tickets with money from his basement. He could still hear Sheila’s exasperation at his own disinterest in the money. He glanced at Thunk and Sheila, and purposefully burnt that image into his memory. There was no telling when he’d see either of them again. “You guys ready?” Thunk immediately nodded, having no choice in the matter. Sheila hugged herself tightly, seemed to brace herself, then nodded. Todd smiled, a real and honest smile, and Sheila couldn’t help but return it. All three got in line for the ticket-taker. Sheila was first, Todd next, and Thunk last.

It was a fast line for the number of people that were coming in and out of the Carnival of Souls. As they approached, they saw the ticket-taker. He was overweight, balding, and possibly the most cheerful person that they had ever seen. His thin hair was long enough to hang over his ears, and fluttered gently in the breeze. He was wearing a dress that actually fit him well. He had countless pieces of Hello Kitty jewelry and toys in his booth. He greeted each person warmly and honestly; there wasn’t a single person that entered Dr. Celestine’s Carnival of Souls without a smile on their face. As Sheila approached, Todd recognized him. He was named Dav, and he was the Ticketmaster.

“Welcome to the Carnival, miss! Do you have your tickohmygod where did you get that?” Dav had stood up, and was pointing at her Hello Kitty lanyard. He was enraptured, like a kid in a candy store.

“Hi… uh, my boyfriend got it for me.” She looked back to Todd, motioning for her ticket. He handed her a small wooden box.

“Well, I’m not ashamed to tell you that I’m terribly jealous. Do you have a ticket?” Sheila gave Todd a questioning look, and he just stared at her. She shot him a glare, and opened the box. She handed the inverted ticket to Dav, who looked at it with a worried smile. He looked back up, but to Todd. “Isn’t this your ticket, Ralph?”

Todd smiled. “It was a mistake, Ticketmaster. I was meant to give it to her.”

The Ticketmaster looked back down at the ticket. “I don’t know…”

An idea suddenly struck Sheila. “Uh, listen, if you let me use that ticket, you can have this.” Sheila took off the lanyard and held it up to the booth. Dav’s eyes lit up, and his face beamed with an enormous smile.

“Deal!” Dav punched the stub of the now-golden ticket and handed it back to her. Sheila rushed past the booth, glad to no longer be holding up the line. Todd gave Dav the two tickets for himself and Thunk, and followed Sheila in.

No one saw Dav un-clip Sheila’s old ID badge and slip it into his ticket folder.

I will clean and cover my windows
‘Cos I don’t want to see where the wind blows
I’ll love it, I’ll covet another one’s idol
Because I am the queen of denial
I’ll love it, I’ll love it
I’ll love it, I’ll love it
The ego is the master of psyche
And envy tastes sweeter than grey meat
I’ll love it and learn to follow behind all
Because I am the king of denial
– Ruby, “Queen of Denial”