From the Horse's Mouth

really short stories

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on September 29, 2009

I love creative writing challenges. I usually wind up going to Writing Prompts, but this morning I found a post that posed an equally fun challenge.  It’s a contest to write a story in ten words or less. I found that it forced me to be concise and witty without the added verbiage. I am re-posting mine because, yeah, I can be a little vain at times. (Seriously though, I think mine are pretty good… entertaining at the least.)

I think it is important to update the all-too-common tale that pushes specific gender roles, sexual orientation and common misconceptions.

*****

The knight completed the rescue.
“You killed George!” Princess wept.

******

Help wanted: ‘Save princess from dragon! *female champions preferred.

*****

Save Queen from dragon! Apply within (gay knights only).

*****

Princess had to choose. Frankly, she knew the dragon better.

*****

Princess had to choose. Dragon smirked. Yeah, Stockholm Syndrome.

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~ ~ ~ ~

Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on September 27, 2009

The primordial landscapes known to each one of our psyches:

The Beach

The Mountains

The Forest

The Desert

The Snow Dunes

The Labyrinth

The Clouds

The Underworld

The Waters

Outer Space

All of these have secrets and The Doors to The Other, The Unseen, The Hidden. Which doors we come upon may well depend on the roads we take. And what dictates which roads those are?

Look to your feet, your wheels, your horse. Symbols of these can serve as guides. Remember to be a good traveler, to observe your surroundings, to pack for yourself (+ one), to be willing to sacrifice some of your loot, to be willing to work, to recognize Opportunity and Danger,  and to listen carefully to the Land and those you may meet on the way.

Equinox blessings

Posted in 1 by theskinhorse on September 22, 2009

The smell in the air is different today; it brings the spirit of campground fires, harvested fields, dried leaves, baking breads and root vegetables, the wet cloaking of drizzle, and the spice and warmth of mystery and magic. I hear the precession approaching: the Phoukas and Dark Horses, the Witches of Old and newborn Fae, the Night carnivals and moving statues, the lost Ghosts and wandering Sprites, the Scarecrows and Corvids, the Masked and the Dead, the Legendary and the Forgotten, the Visitors and the Stories from distant lands.

At 5:18pm EDT today, the Autumn Equinox will occur.

May all of you find what you are searching for in the Autumn wind.

shopping list

Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on September 18, 2009

:

Apples

Blackberries

Cloves

Oats

Stouts

Whiskey

Ribbons (various colors)

Pole

Horse Skull (mock.. but not mocking)

Glowsticks (yellow and green)

Pumpkin (and baked seeds)

Smoke

Paper mache

Black, gray, green and yellow paint

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pet Fun

Posted in Dreams, Mind Goo by theskinhorse on September 14, 2009

I was astounded at the fun we could have together after skins were sloughed off. I showed you around my common haunts, directing your attention to bright colors, silly costumes, magnetic people and small pleasures. We were able to know each other as people in ways that have previously been off-limits for one reason or another. There was discussion without the format or scrutinization, and what followed was laughter and light-heartedness. It was a dream, a future potential that I would like to actualize. However, so often you seem uninterested in the frivolity, the play, fun for fun’s sake. I see you looking under the microscope more than I do, and that task is part of my daily life at work.

Maybe that’s just it: you’re always with or at work. Work is work, home is work, conversation is work, meetings are work, and play is work. I don’t see it coming naturally. The theory is laid out very nicely: reasons to open up and engage in play, what it does for us on many levels, also potentially how to  initiate it and maintain a certain level of play. The thing is, the practice is nothing like theory. Those theories and well laid plans, that’s not playing, that’s not fun.

Fun is spontaneity and improvisation. Fun does not have inhibition or fear. Fun doesn’t need reasons, and it usually doesn’t care much for your schedules and previous arrangements. I see you treating it as a pet at times. You do what you feel you need to do, and when most of the work is done, you let Fun in finally, after hours of waiting. It’s been such a good and patient boy. It’s ok to play for a certain amount of time, but then it is time to put Fun back outside for the night. He doesn’t sleep in the house; Fun might get too close to you as you sleep or keep you up at night, insisting to play some more. Perhaps if you let him in more often, he wouldn’t seem like such a disruption to your life devoted to Work. Fun misses you, and is beginning to develop a grudge against Work. If you don’t spend some more time with Fun, he’ll be gone. Fun is not interested in the pictures you take of him to show your friends and brag about what a fantastic breed he is. That’s not loving Fun. The love you do give Fun is always in the presence of Work. You and Fun never seem to have any private moments. Perhaps Fun would be less reserved, more expressive without Work always hanging around.

But I think you are slightly afraid of that: afraid of how much you might actually enjoy Fun if you could let Work go for a while. You’re too obsessed with whether or not Work will be ok by himself, or if he’ll run away and not return if you start spending time with Fun. The conditions must be just right to let Fun in: you have to be in the mood, and you prefer Fun to be around when certain others are or at certain times. So you have dictated times when Fun is let in and let out, and if there is no time tonight to let him in, well, there’s always tomorrow. One day, after days of neglect perhaps, you’ll go to let Fun in, only to realize that he left for more accepting companions. Then you’ll be able to spend as much time with Work as you want. You won’t need to worry about Fun any longer.

nostalgia for the Land

Posted in stream of consciousness by theskinhorse on September 13, 2009

It’s been 4 years since I left central Pennsylvania. In my final adios without grand gestures or a carload of tears, I sped off thinking that I would not miss the place. How could I miss the landscape that accompanied me through the awkward and tiring years of premature, rapid, reckless transitions? In the 5 years during undergrad, I felt like I was rushed through a handful of separate lives. College may be the best time of many young people’s lives, but for me, I don’t really regard 18-23 as a ‘fun’ time. Perhaps you may think this is a shame, or maybe you pity me in some way for not enjoying my youth.  I’m not too concerned about it though; I have far much more fun in my adult years than many of my peers.

Anyway, back to my point: I never thought I would really miss it. There were a scant number of bars and clubs nearby, and most of them were not impressive or exciting. Nightlife was slow. We’d have to drive an hour to go to a chain that blared country music as the half-naked waitresses as young as I was served watered-down fluorescent beverages to drunken wanna-be cowboys. If we stayed on campus, it was almost a ghost town on the weekends since half to two thirds of the students were either commuters or termed ‘nontraditional’ (i.e. real adults with jobs and/or partners/families). Of the portion of the students left on campus for the weekend, most partied elsewhere with their senior friends and slept during the day. I was not interested in the partying as much as others were. I’ve always freaked my peers out a great deal with my preference for mornings. During college, it was difficult to find a work-out or breakfast partner. Consequentially, I sunshine-surfed on my own, and by the time the girls down the hall were singing and dancing as they dressed for a frat-tastic black-out, I was in my pjs watching Adult Swim. Like I said, I did some of the partying and late-night Denny’s run, but that is not what I miss at all. I miss what I took for granted: the space, the quiet and Nature.

Living at a campus not within walking distance of anything but residential developments and the woods, and having only a small portion of students with whom to interact, it forced me to entertain myself with what was available. I exercised, read, wrote, sketched, studied, and meditated. My memories of the campus on weekends was a big chunk of empty land for me to roam and explore. I got used to the space. I liked the lack of cars that drove by and the quiet of the air.

I visited the woods a lot, sometimes by myself, sometimes with a few others. I found solace by the river and among the trees. What was wonderful was that for the miles I walked in that forest, I never saw more than a couple people on the trails on any given day The golf course nearby was barely seen from the lower riverside and trails, and the golfers never had a reason to venture into the woods. I could feel as if the woods were mine. That is what I miss terribly. I miss having a forest to go to whenever the mood takes me, night or day, summer or winter, fall or spring. I miss being able to walk undisturbed at night by the river and skip stones or talk to spirits. I miss not being able to set up blankets on the green in the golf courses and watch meteor showers. Where we live now, the woods are guarded and watched at night, as are golf courses. They are also not within walking distance like the woods at the edge of my old campus were. I have had so many fantasies about venturing out at night to explore these woods in this area. However, cops seem attracted to my car, and there are not many good places close by to hide it.

I miss land, space, and freedom of wandering, exploration and movement.

Camping is a necessity, but it holds me over for only so long. My ideal is to be hidden from the eyes of humans, safe from the interruptions of cars and businesses and to have the open sky, green forest, and babbling brooks at my doorstep.

Cut-up of the Bright and the Great

Posted in 1 by theskinhorse on September 11, 2009

delight not.

Walks

Ahead and over.

has ‘Fortuna’?  just liberation, fluidly.

“Hello… world. Go seen. the hint is just. We’re holding a can of dues. Called with the inconsequential. That, it’s throne: End A is?”

Tricks, Father. Ability. About the physical, called Just Grey war…

the… the…  no memory.

Boundaries: Water roads/paths. over.

My own Muscle-eyes of the world: judgment. Observer: (memory/bias). Where? The memory.

Theirs = Go.

Know the Earth Beach. “is where?” Tricks, the And/Or Beach, and possibility of no options.

(to the I: do own the joke). Human.

No crosses, no deep focus to the Tumbling painful let-go. The meaning… Without Ideas, the observer goes to Logic Destiny.

I’m the delight Light. You’re better.

“Sees not the inconsequential. The holding, the preferences of existence.Know Currents about/are judgment. Currents draw the moment, the ability to think within ‘Fortuna’.”

“Hello… final rationale of anything, was transience. Rolled us…  to and fro, no holding some mind’s 20/20. The nod on expecting?”

Voice, but inconsequential.

The fluidly to draw better. Sees and just Go. if we are to Go, (their me?) it’s for the sake of mind at spatter mountains.

Back. Discretion. Keep one’s head about The World, and no- then creation. Interpretation. Just ends and effects.

Fire mind Destiny, present something –  after it’s better.

Sees Muscle world, and God mitigates ahead of Man. “So think of the future and its perceptive road. Go to (deep voice) the Water-matter of you.”

UNsensory… The inconsequential.

The ___ of delight follows. What A lies like that? or The me? at A edge No End, know spatter Invisible and the delight about being better.

Sees, but ends finally give over in The holding of physical interpretation. Just not do delight = Molds body.

-Tricks within the ‘One,’ easily.

dust to…

Posted in Mind Goo by theskinhorse on September 2, 2009

I share my dreams with loved ones; it has been something that I do regularly for as long as I can remember… which my have an expiration date of somewhere around 17 years.  It is odd; I can remember my dreams and visions, worlds detached from this Earth and characters from the aether more clearly than my own childhood. Sure, I know the neighborhood in which I lived from 4-11 years old. I can recall names of friends and classmates (a few at least). I can recall some of my pets, some holidays, some key moments in development perhaps. Most of these memories have photos, names, dates and other people to help me construct the memories years after the events. I recognize them as construction or fabrication, not memory. I’ve seen that picture of me on a particular bicycle with a basket (was it Snoopy?) and handle-tassels so I know I have ridden it. I’ve seen pictures of me out on the patio with my grandfather while he was sleeping, but I don’t remember that moment, that day, that time, his way of sleeping, that dress I was wearing, what season it was, that patio furniture; it all eludes me every time, no matter how much I want that memory. I can identify myself in pictures from elementary school, but I never remember the picture days, the classroom activities, which students I liked or didn’t like. What did my second teacher look like? I don’t remember even though I spent the entire year in that class. What was I for Halloween in fifth grade? I am not sure, most likely a male (or male-inspired) character.

I have precious one or two memories barely accessible of my maternal grandparents. I have clips of interactions with my parents and my brothers. Most of my time spent with friends escapes me. Most of the time I spent in the house or playing outside escapes me. The vivid (though perhaps disjointed) memories from childhood involve the night, dusk outside, my bedroom and our basement. I remember more of what was in my head than the experiences with the outside world. I can recall details from cartoons and movies I saw as a child more clearly than my own life, but, again, perhaps this is fabrication after-the-fact when re-visiting these programs and videos.

I don’t remember when I learned to ride a bike. The faces of the boys I had crushes on are almost completely wiped from my mind. I don’t really remember what it was like to wake up for Christmas as a child; I imagine I know what it is like.

Time is the Great Wash for me. I don’t think I understand or experience it as many others do.

The lack of remembering is never meant to hurt those around me, but sometimes it does. Though I wish they could know how much I would like to remember if I only could. I feel as though I am torn between those feelings and the thoughts that say that the way of my brain with Time and memory is another part of what makes me who I am. Would I be as ready and willing for changes and transformations if I had a better memory? Would I have more or less psychological ‘issues’ or ‘problems?’ What about my world would change if I could remember more of my past?