Arriving


Held up in customs, being searched

The Gates

You can find me at these, and more locations, scattered around the internet, really scattered actually. The fey arrived in a storm, and blew up all my hardware and scattered my identity to the winds. I have dozens of accounts that I can neither find, nor access with my collection of passwords. So if you see me floating around and I do not answer the doorbell, it is one of my lost accounts. Went without communications entirely for four months, while being initiated into what I can only term as my apprenticeship; learning the ropes of an alternative earth, one where the very land around you is alive with spirit and energy and their rules and mores and ways are complicated in the extreme, especially if you are a middle aged secular businessman with an awful lot on their plate. Well, the fey can answer to what happened there, my original surmise, of a malware intrusion on a pretty high level of sophistication being the culprit, does not hold up much against the barometer of the unreal, being a very solid presence in my life.

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A couple of hallucinations I had while developing the story for my, hopefully, soon to be released fairytale, that puts the terror back into nighttime stories. The hallucinations are a side effect from living on a boundary between space and time, where everything that has ever been thought is thought again and in this universe, thought is form. not much of a departure from many of my landscape images, if you look close enough…the fey are terribly shy but as star struck as the next human when faced with the idea of celebrity. You will soon see, light and dark exist in the same space simultaneously and form fills space to its capacity. There is no other way can think of to describe this place. The top photo is named up helly Aa and the bottom: The Abyss. Up helly Aa has an excellent tale to go with its name, and the other…the other is because I promised myself to deliver both sides of the equation to my best ability, representing an honest transaction. My mortal life and return to Earth, and their coming out display for humankind. Low budget independent noir kind…I like Aether Punk as a descriptor; they are huge fans of pop music, dance, anything with a beat. Belief makes them real, and real makes them fact, it is up to you to verify what you see, after all, this is a show. Up in lights, amongst the stars, where they should naturally be.

Escaped, on the lam, if you see him, call someone who can do an exorcism, just kidding, he is friendly…inthinkThe Changeling

Capturing my creativity and finally allowing it free rein after a lifetime of putting the nose to the ground in order to make life livable, was the single greatest gift I have received, possibly ever, notwithstanding my daughter, she gets first billing. Never thought it would ever come to pass, creative writing that is, this is all about that as far as I can tell. The art…that’s a by product of a journey that can be told in multiple mediums. They all follow the same theme, getting a story out of me that spent thirty years percolating before events threw in their two cents and suddenly I was jammed up with a flood that came out of me in a torrent, that lasted two years, has resulted in a rather large amount of writing on the same subjects, that sat me bolt upright in my chair, when I completed another short story and realized that the latest one, tied them all together, and my solo drive to become a writer of substance became one of a over abundance of riches…that am still editing, this photo project is by way of being a sojourn from the keyboard, and a holiday from the humdrum, that is living in a place, where you can safely assume, that that was indeed a dragon you just saw flying in that shadowed cloud, a tyrannosaurus was on the street below me one misty morning, and when I saw the time phasing blur of a tiny gnome climb off of a raven perched on my garden shed, I not only laughed to realize one of my favourite writers was gifted with the knowledge of the fey…and also a realization. The forms, the bodies and the stringent adherence to rules Ai know little about; they are either an embodiment of stories, coming out of our collective unconscious and in this world our imagination creates the identity of the supernatural, or our stories, our legends and tales, have a grounding in reality. And therein lies a telling point I have found. Have noticed quite regularly the similar occurrences that surround first stories, oldest of record of different epochs in time. They all begin with chaos, confusion and quite impossible creatures and godlike attributes ascribed to fantastical constructs. Or, ancient archeological records show that society devoutly believed in many different gods, in particular the ancient Egyptians whose devotion to divinity was so ingrained in their culture it was part of their daily activities, casting spells, and scribing them like the a book of the dead. The chaldeans, fish headed men come from the ocean and teach humankind the rudiments of civilization. The flood, the Old Testament, The controversy surrounding the stories, and the amazing amount of information kept within such short collections of words; am the exact opposite of that, shutting me up is next to impossible. It comes from having none to talk to for years, save sprites, hobs, and gobs…the nobs watch on from a distance, like they are indulging children at play. The play is storytelling and gambling, trading tears for intuitive knowledge and learning with visceral finality what can happen when you challenge fate to discover the oldest story ever told. Why I made that challenge and cried out to the gods, I am still lost on, but I did it, and boy did I get and answer.

Shell shocked

I wonder how long one of these pages can be, it seems I can add a lot to the story here, hopefully not too much, but enough to keep you interested and wanting more. This is part of my Faustian deal with the Red Queen and her hunt. They protect me from the spirits along the paths of the dead, and in return…I present as they want me too…although this one suspects they are disappointed with my work ethic and scattered focus…it comes from all the energies and power leaking through into my home…it is quite distracting…and the volume, the volume of information, the overwhelming task list, the impossibility of it all…am trapped in a fairytale wherein I am being tortured by both aspects of the seelie and unseelie courts who mean the absolute best for me but are constrained by the laws and rules that governed their creation in the collective unconscious…which is made up entirely of ancestors who are getting a little fed up with all the propaganda spread about how viscous and cruel they were in times, in times we know nothing about, and by nothing, I mean nothing…I see the fey…everywhere, I see giants carved in mountains, and watch dragons swoop through the sky, transparent and almost invisible, but I can see them…they are not tricks of the light…or if they are…the world is far more complicated than our objective scientific minds appear to be able to contemplate…I see it in almost every writing that discusses things like ultra terrestrials, the doings of the fey, or the original constructions and gatherings of folktales that made up some of our earliest printed type…mad production of words…to a population still reeling from the effects of the various depredations that were life in the Middle Ages.

And, of course, one of the first books ever written was a salacious tell all about the nefarious witchcraft practitioners of dark arts that permeated every village you came too…they had red hair amongst other attributes, such as being able to brew beer and take care of six kids at once…or maybe heal that rotten tooth the spirits gave you because you did not say your proper prayer ritual before sleep..

Or maybe it was rot caused by the total lack of hygiene and waste disposal that existed after the fall of antiquity…there are enough remains to suggest that plumbing existed in Ancient Rome…even if they used urine to brush their teeth. I read once the lead pipes they used may have contributed to the decline and fall of Rome…those lead pipes still exist, still transport water…and drivers in Rome are the craziest in the world…or so I have been told, never been there…I am deprived…Never got closer than New Years in Milan…sucks but it’s true…missed opportunities right!