I began writing this yesterday and started by saying 'when I last posted a few weeks ago' and realised that the Mt. Olympus factor has significantly skewed my perception of time and it's been a good nine months mortal-time since I last signed on and posted anything of substance. "Substance." I wish Alaska time had moved like Mt. O time.
My son is growing in leaps and bounds. Tempus fugit, he reminds me. (I would try to say it in ancient Greek but I don't have the special characters on the laptop, and even if I did, I never did become literate in it. Latin I demanded to learn after my, ahem, 'rehabilitation.') Time truly is flying where he is concerned. It seems like only yesterday I first held him. That's a laugh, me holding a baby. Now, he tends to sit on my shoulders, strangling me with his hands clasped around my neck, holding onto me for dear life in innocent childish delight. Astrid and I are so very proud of him, our personal crowning achievement. Imagine an asshole like me being so fucking lucky. I know -- it's hard.
We've been talking about a family vacation to some place in the Caribbean shortly -- and of course by shortly, I mean within the next six months. I just need someplace that's warm. Ah, gimme that glorious sun. NYC's getting cold. My sort-of-squire's place in CT is getting beautiful with the changing leaves, but gods, it getting cold too. Sure it's not Alaska-cold which was as godsdamn cold as a witch's tit, but if I can avoid the cold altogether, why the hell not? No fucking reason for me to suffer it anymore.
Sculpting has taken a backseat for the moment. It was never meant to be a creative outlet. It was just a time-consuming thing. I'm not really all that creative despite what some people are now saying about the crap I have released from my studio. I am not an artist. I am a savage: I hunt, I stay warm, and I use the visual to express myself. It's all as basic as that. So on days when I've only dusted a handful of daimons and I'm still itching for something brutal and nasty, I can go after some medium with all the ferocity I still have pent up. It does translate. But between joining the ole DH crew every so often for something meaty and spending time with the family, my few needs have been amply met. I haven't had any sort of desire to create. I don't think I ever did. It was all just firewood before, and if it wasn't for the variety of media I use now, it would still be.
By the by, anywhere with a nice daimon infestation? I feel like I could take on a hundred of those tone-deaf fuckers single-handedly right now.
Ah, and something else of note: I had my first real haircut, as in, by someone else and not with a knife, just the other day. Yeah, a knife isn't precise, but it tends to get the job done and it's worked for me for a couple thousand years. Astrid finally decided I could dispense with the "primitive" method. I wonder how much of that was my mother-in-law's suggestion...
Told you I was a savage.
Z
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