Storm Comin’

August 27, 2015

Thunder only happens when it’s raining,
Players only love you when they’re playin’.
Fleetwood Mac

(see also, she broke down and let me in)

If my life could stop so closely resembling the Rumors album, that’d be great.

“If you don’t want to fuck him right away, wear pants.”

The above will be carved on Biker Body Pillow’s tombstone, once I bury him.

I think he just gets a grave alongside the others.

BBP was a cloudy-weather friend, seeking shelter from the storms in his life. I was just one of those lean-tos thrown together from branches and vines in the woods. Left to return to the earth when no longer needed.

(Let the record show, I wore pants god dammit. Both times.)

Isolated in Narnia, I negotiated with the dead. I know now I brought it with me when I moved to the tiny house.

Still in need of that young priest and the old priest. Send them my way if you see them, I think they got lost. There were others,robes and collars, they were false prophets.

Short of a séance or exorcism, I’d settle for a good cleansing rain. Taxi Travis Bickle styles.

I wonder if God would mind if I washed my hair with Holy Water, I feel like he might understand.

We had two heat waves this summer. Everything in twos. Might have been one in June, but July and August were so weird, June just got blurry. Feels like a long time ago.

The first was long and drawn out. I got in the habit of soaking in cool salt water baths until my core temp came down enough to sleep, or move depending the time of day. I bought two box fans, set each one in opposite ends of the house, sucking out during the day and blowing in if it cooled down at night. It wasn’t cooling down much at night. There were fever dreams.

That first one ended the Sunday I went home. I drove straight at it, watching the temperature falling backwards, like a countdown. Seemed appropriate, I was driving into the past. 10 degrees in 2 hours. Watching the sky over my lake, storm comin’.

I was so stubborn about wanting a baptism I almost went into my lake. She took a life that day, knocked a kid off the peir and refused to give him back. I’m not immune to her wrath when she is in that kind of a mood, and she was murderous. Jumping in the water with that much undertow on a rarely used beach? She might see fit to just punish me for being a fool. I wouldn’t blame her.

That was the day the supercells came. I have weathered so many of those storms. In the truck with Saint Anthony, in the basement with my Nana, screaming at my grandpa to get downstairs, there was a tornado coming. This one had a decidedly odd formation. 14 vortices cut straight across my lake and headed east. Some in small clusters. Tornados, waterspouts, devastation, hail the size of ice cubes. Momma Nature in her furious glory. It was…spectacular. I felt privileged to be in it. I drove through a lot of it, safe in my bubble and grateful for 4WD.

There was another. Mid-August. Out with a drizzle instead of a bang. Venus is in retrograde, nothing much happening there. It was crazy stupid hot for 8 days, I was on my girl’s balcony looking out at the horizon, thought I felt a puff of cold air, saw clouds wayyyyy off in the distance, and witchy me failed. “Those don’t look like rain clouds, how odd” I said. We went down to the pool, swam for an hour, the sky opened, dropped a little rain and the temperature dropped 10 degrees. It was so anticlimactic. No earth shattering ka-boom.

When writing short stories for Mr. X I remarked that, “all these stories I tell you, I realized, my body follows the weather. Everything I am going to tell you will start with the words ‘it’d been sweltering hot for days…’ “

It’s the truth. As is the weather, so is my libido.

Growing up in that tiny judgemental town ‘o’ mine, it was only prudent to seek out the cottage boys, the strangers, those who would not spread rumors when I went back to that prison masquerading as a high school.

I worry about that less now. Hence the full disclosure here and now.

My friend T___ calls me a witch because I can look at the sky and predict the rain. I am a witch, it’s just funny that that is the reason he decided to acknowledge it. I can predict the future too. Doesn’t stop me from doing the thing. Just stops me from getting mad about it. That would be a ridiculous tantrum “I AM MAD AT YOU FOR DOING EXACTLY WHAT I SAID YOU WOULD DO even though I could have stopped it and I didn’t.”

I am a witch. I read tarot cards and bird portents, I always know where the moon is, I’ve noted the lack of fairy rings around it, no storms, no sexy times. I have felt the lack of Venus whilst she is in retrograde, so far gone in fact she has vanished from view. I trust in the earth the air in the cleansing power of water and fire. Just waiting for the right time to burn this one down. I know the power of my words.

Aphrodite has left us for a late summer nap. All the spells and intentions won’t change anything. So, I too, am in stasis. In fact, I think that prediction I made accidentally set things spiralling in the wrong direction. So be it. This too shall pass. Everything waxes and wanes, ebbs and flows. Sometimes we get epic weather and sometimes it’s just a drizzle.

I will get my earth shattering ka-boom again, I just have to wait for it. I am going to rage and storm, fuck being the shelter from it.

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