Screened Window

Life is better with a best friend.

And a screened window.

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Pumpkin Carving Party

Good times were had at Studio 621.

A Partially Fictional Story of a Dragonfly

In some ways it's easier to communicate when you're alive. You have a voice, for instance. Hand gestures, facial expressions, these things lend themselves to relaying what you're trying to say, inasmuch as people are willing to listen.

There's the key. That's where you can really take advantage of having passed from human life. I always told everybody that I would come back as a dragonfly. Who knew that would really be an option? So, I make an appearance occasionally to remind the ones I love of who I am. This is SO much more effective. I could talk until I was blue in the face and my friends wouldn't listen. Let me die, and suddenly everything I say is golden. Why? Who knows? Who cares, really? I just take advantage of it.

At first it was ridiculous. For instance, I love Johnny Depp so they had to go rent every Pirates of the Caribbean movie ever produced. And, then cry. Who gives a rat's ass about that now?! Move on. I didn't even like them that much. Or if I did, I stopped once I crossed over. (Okay, maybe I liked Chocolat that much.)

A dear friend of mine has been struggling. I know it; he knows it. The world of fine arts has been turned on its ear and he couldn't navigate the new currents. The internet creeped into every aspect of the art world and suddenly anybody could be an artist at a minimal initial cost. We used to have to have several sets of slides created of our work, to send to galleries and festival promoters - professional slides. Nowadays, everything is submitted online, images are tweaked and the general expectation is much lower. The promoters are making money hand over fist on application fees alone with thousands of applicants. Why should they care any more about how the show runs? Suddenly, all loyalty to the artists who they had worked with for decades was gone, and a new generation of promoters and curators emerged. A somewhat colder, less involved group. We used to be a family of artists, all traveling on a circuit of festivals and galleries, running into each other periodically. Little by little my friends complained that they didn't know anybody any more; that the people they knew weren't there any more. I wasn't alive to see that shift happening; I could only watch from a distance.

I really wanted my dear friend to get in front of the change, though, and take advantage of the new opportunities. They were there, just in different places. The people who were familiar with the new world were the ones who would succeed. But, I had to start slow with him, at his level. He was at a street festival, so as a dragonfly I flew around his jewelry case, then popped out and landed on his foot. I sat there on his foot, slowly fanning my wings. He didn't seem startled or curious, even. He just watched me as I sat there. Eventually, he talked to me. He asked how I was doing, how I liked his art and his new designs. He gave me updates on some of our friends. Me talking to him was the challenge. I wanted to say, "I'm with you. We're going to make it through this together." Just to comfort him at first, then to kick him in the ass to get him moving.

Later, I had to move coins and such to get his attention. I would time my dragonfly appearances when I felt his thoughts were heading the right direction. Just, nudge him into facing the future - turn his head, little by little. Open up his mind to what he could do now, to the possibilities. For a long time he focused on what I had said before, back when we talked about the art world and how to make it. When I was alive, I would encourage him, but I would try to push him as well, to apply to more festivals and galleries. To pay the extra amount for the professional photography because that made all the difference. All of that may have been true then, but times have changed and it's not all true any more. It's difficult to make people change, to see things from a new perspective – especially when they've been doing something so long. In some ways it's easier for me now, though. (Now that I'm no longer among the physically alive.) Why the hell people listen to the dead more than the living is beyond me. I know that's the way it is though, so when I can communicate with him now, everything I say has that much more value.

I don't know how much longer I can do this. I've used twenty dragonflies to channel me so far. I'm a little tired – a spirit kind of tired, not a physical one. I feel like I need to stay around to see my friend through just a little more, but part of me feels like I need to move on. Like, maybe I'm the one who is trying to cling to the past. I keep getting the feeling that I've almost broken through, like I've almost made him hear me... and then I'm back to where I started. Maybe I'll try a wasp. To sting him. Just to take my frustrations out, and for no other reason. I might do that, but no, I won't go anywhere. I'm with him... still with him.

Life Lesson

There is a life lesson that has taken me too many years (decades) to figure out. Partly because I've spent the majority of my adult life renting apartments rather than owning a home. Partly because I've spent the majority of my adult life obliviously walking around, skirting responsibility and commitment. Partly because I'm a hammerhead.

Having something beautiful is a luxury, a delight.

Maintaining something beautiful is work.

This applies to many things.

A home. The picture below is the entryway of a mansion in Galveston. It was built in the early 20th century, and it is gorgeous. Hand-carved wood all over. But, it takes a team of employees and volunteers - along with large grants - to keep it up.

The Bishop's Palace - Galveston, Tx

Or a patio with flowers. Flowers have to be watered regularly, and weeds will grow through the bricks unless we are vigilant.

Cat's Paradise

Jewelry - Silver will tarnish and must be polished.

Pendant - Silver, 18K and Opal by Barry Perez

Talent - musical, artistic or any other talent you may have developed - requires continued practice, or you will lose the skill, the edge, the ease and the beauty with which you perform.

The Talented Jorge & Nicole

Friendships and relationships

Courtesy of Pexels

Courtesy of Pexels

I was walking home this afternoon from brunch - just before it began to rain. I passed a beautiful house, a house that I would have loved to live in. It occurred to me that the bigger the home, the more there is to maintain because there's that much more to break down. A few years ago I wouldn't have considered that. I have moved in with my partner – the same one who, without my having to call, came to pick me up when it began to rain – and I have begun to learn what it means to truly be responsible for something and its maintenance. The old house we live in has a leak in the roof and it's entirely up to us to fix it. There is no office to call to come take care of it. And, we either mow the lawn or it becomes a forest, regardless of how much I'd prefer to be laying around reading. I could leave when I got angry, or I could finally figure out what it takes to make a relationship work. I have a lifetime of leaving that has become a habit, a way of life. I am having to learn a new way of life.

The lesson hasn't been easy or without tears. But, I have grown so much in the last few years that I almost don't recognize myself. Has it been worth it? As far as I'm concerned, yes. (You'd have to ask my partner for his perspective.) I have a long way to go, but I am so glad I have begun.

Thank you for reading.

I Know a Published Author!

I have met a couple of published authors in my life. However, recently a friend I hadn't seen or heard from in years showed up in a Tweet from Book People, a fabulous local independent bookstore. They were going to be hosting a book signing for him and his debut novel, The Mirror Thief. Martin Seay, friend of mine, had become a published author. That was new. And... WOW.

From The Elliot Bay Book Company

Of course, I went. I was there early. I brought friends. I listened to the question/answer session shared with Kirk Lynn, another author. Martin looked tired, but what do you expect from somebody in the middle of a fabulous national book signing tour?! There were other people there that I knew, from the same time that I knew Martin. It was like a mini-reunion of people who used to work together. (We worked together in a bookstore, no less.) Afterward, I wanted to hang around and chat with him, but he looked so busy and so tired that I really just wanted to give him a hug. He even had a handler, if I'm not mistaken. (A guide would be a better word, perhaps? An agent? An escort? Somebody from the bookstore or the publishing house to make sure he was where he needed to be when he needed to be there?) (I want a handler.)

Now, I am reading the book. It took a while to get around to it, mostly because it's not small and it's not particularly light reading from the looks of it and I wanted to be sure that I was in the right mindset. Plus, I discovered that it's on Audible, recorded by the wonderful Edoardo Ballerini . Since I have a 30-mile commute to and from work five days a week, I enjoy listening to audiobooks. (This narrator is truly gifted. And the accents he can do! He has an Italian/American inflection when he's not in character, but he IS the character when they are speaking.) Now, I wonder why exactly I waited. I take that back; it's got a lot going on and the prose is incredible. I do have to be able to pay attention. But, I LOVE it. I mean, first it was awesome when a friend of mine had a book published. I had read some of his writing before and I knew he had talent. But, when I know somebody who actually produced THIS?! Incredible.

He described it as literary fiction, with mystery added to give it more popular appeal. I'm still in the beginning, but I know from the blurbs and discussion that there are three distinct parts: 16th century Venice, 1958 California and a close-to-modern-day Las Vegas. It involves a mirror (duh) and a book. I LOVE books that have an obsession with a specific book (as in that particular physical object, not just any version or publication) as part of the story. I love it. Have I ever read another story with that aspect? I have no idea! But, I love it!

The most truly amazing thing, though, was to read the first pages – and then hear them when I restarted the book as an audiobook – and hear Martin. I think that's why it's so amazing for me to know somebody first and then for them to be published. It would seem on the surface that if I recognize the author in the prose then it means I'm not able to suspend disbelief properly, which could almost seem like a criticism of the writing. But, it's not that. It's intriguing. From page one, the story hits the ground running, even if the only character in the scene is unable to convince himself to get off the bed. It moves. It pulled me in. But, at the same time I just kept thinking, "That's so Martin!" This is what it's like to have friends who become fiction writers. I had no idea.