Showing posts with label Gypsy Cave. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Gypsy Cave. Show all posts

Saturday, October 23, 2010

King Me




Crown

Your kingdom is those who love you.
I felt like I had been so close to these two ladies having coffee with me one fine fall Georgia morning. I’d been the closest friend I could be just before each of them found true love. Now they’d finally met, and best of all, there’s nothing Angela loves more than babies, and here now the newly-minted Mrs. Cooper’s filling out with little Tupelo. The request to the universe was: “please let me look pregnant and not just fat!” It came through before the week ended. For all the multitudes of plotlines and details we’d cooked up previously, I still felt a fresh start was the only way Sabrina and I could work on my adaptation of her own creation, the Scarlett Dragon #9. It was nice to show her total trust and love between two adults, because her heart was brave and her ideals to this thing still shone.

We filled timeless air with words of tomorrow.

Our re-acquaintance had been like meeting a whole new person, for me; road side clouds and flights of fancy between forested trees led to as much personal confession as we could have living 3000 miles apart. The reservations I sensed in my friend would pass as the energy continued to change, bringing her new love, her eternal love, into our life, as she feels his absence acutely while keeping touch throughout his teaching day, packing lunch and notes and snacks and texting her favored means of expression, pictures. She had a new beginning in so many ways, lately.

There seemed no way to commemorate the movement we represent, the way of thinking that seems so futuristic and outside the norms of where we grew up; it really wasn’t just an affectation, we are decidedly different in our daring. Aggressively individualistic impulses drove us to live with expression and honesty and something like freedom. Most of all I love how this manifests in her delightful kids.

Mrs. Cooper wants more than anything for Mr. Cooper to feel right at home in all parts of her life, so what better than to show us his art and his collection of short stories?

“God Hates Sin,” with its search for new identity in a New Orleans journey, is filled with weird characters and bizarre religious imagery and local details that would do Flannery O’Conner justice. Only later do I run across some OTO related article about absinthe and find its existence in New Orleans there in their canon itself as a poetic waxing.
I completely failed at changing Optimus Prime, but Sabrina’s been trying to help others into their new forms for quite some time, and aided me in doing so as easily as she re-worked this plastic figure Finn left on the table into its travelling form, its incognito Earthling appearance.

Similarly, she helped me feel the emergent artist me that could influence people and take some place in history---which is, after all, filled with just people---has a place on Earth, wheels to travel, a hidden savior hauling cargo in disguise. She shared my work and made me feel something of a cult figure, a beautiful fringe dweller, and this makes me want to work like never before, more days without end, because something comes through someone else can run with, in directions far beyond horizons I only glimpse. It is the way we live, and our decisions, and our discoveries, that is the genius, though we may feel in certain days no genius present at all!


Inspired by Darby as well as my lengthy puzzlement, I began drawing, in pen, a tiny free-flowing piece I believe stays on the refrigerator to this day.
Amy Holt texted us to claim Wednesday night for dinner and laughs. It feels incredible to be welcomed to so many doors, and to so well like the people inside them.



Friday, October 22, 2010

Help Transforming








http://ceaseill.blogspot.com/2010/10/packed-days.html















Wonder where I am





Finn’s completing sentences with his sister; his homework’s his chosen first priority. He wonders how it is we know his name already. Darby offers me a handshake. We walk down into the basement garage to find this:


We’re asked to play, so I try two guitars and play several songs, with accompaniment on hand drums and much dancing. Dixie recognizes her own garage dreams in the rather cozy and highly creative Gypsy Cave. Both my sisters have a great time before they go; they could hardly leave us in a happier place.


Soon Finn’s grabbing my hands to dance, and soon afterwards he brings me favorite figures from his Star Wars men, including Luke, Darth, and a one-armed Boba Fett. Indiana Jones and a Ben Ten creature remain in the bathtub upstairs, (but no Aqua Man), in a bathroom containing funny notes, little rebellions, an empty drink can, and a lovely Hawaii picture that's really Sabrina and Darby from an old life, so much so I recreated into her Mom and Dad before I bring it up haltingly later.

Darby asks to draw me. To keep me looking up, I draw her, too. I attempt Finn, who isn’t one to stay still and awake once it’s playtime, and that’s just what it was. Great music plays as Darby picks over her Mom’s tunes and delivers a nice Lou Reed set; she also draws Angela, telling us about how she wants to draw with no underwork for the figures, as a matter of artistic integrity. I don’t even know yet she’s about to have a Governor’s Honors interview in Physics a month later.


Sabrina’s finished pigs-in-a-blanket and soon we’re in the dining room, used for the first time by everyone! Amidst icons and cool blue, Finn treats us to all---nine?---of the character themes from Peter and the Wolf, sung from memory after seeing the movie a couple of times this year and last in music class---as we dine from Winnie the Pooh and Dora the Explorer plates. Darby’s hunger is reserved for her new sketch, a third one, I believe, I may have never seen.


We enjoy the moonlit back porch by candles, as Sabrina takes Finn to bed this exciting night. It’s warm, but the Cave is hospitable, as Eric and I explore favorite far-out fringes and swap down-to-earth stories, and I show him a few early texts I’d kept, from his blushing new bride, to show what she shared that told me how much he means to her. I think Sabrina tells us about her off-duty turn as security for Willie Nelson, too, and how she especially enjoyed his son.


It smells beautiful, and our first night there, in a place we’d been invited to consider our home away from home, only ended so that Eric could report to work teaching middle school in the morning. Before we settled into our fold-out spot with clean sheets, we two did some yoga, as I’d started the day, blown by fans soon afterwards into the sea of dream.

You're on your way to where you already are




Ok at cave spring , I read from the text, red-light turn right onto padlock rd. Go one mile up hill. Turn left onto ridge rd.
With every word, our friends Dixie and Charlie came closer to the place with this magical person, that person that makes you glad you have friends, you know?


The roadsign is gone but it’s right beside a house w a bunch of new fence posts in the ground.

That is exciting!!!! You have to really pay attention to the world around you to ever find my friend.

One thing Dixie has in common with me: if you are really a part of me, you are a part other people sometimes meet through my words and enthusiasm for you. I really love the stories. This one friend delivers an individual picture journal for chosen friends, and through them she saved herself. This person reminds you that you are glad to be alive. All of you do, in some way, telling me different things about it, life. “Life is the only writer, if you think about it,” once said Scarlett Dragon #9.

Ordinary life should stand out as fantastical. This life, were you excited by your days, you’d want to be a Methusulah! You want to live it like you’re living it forever.



So here we were, as though in Heinlein’s Gay Deceiver, a craft able to take her passengers to places in stories and their real, living people, engaged with your imagination. In stories, whether they know how to live or not, we watch the people live, as faces of ourselves.

You've written and drawn things together before you've been in the same room!

Imagine how you feel, when you meet the person who's helped you make your day, who you know you helped and for all the fun you've had together, you still have your first hug.

Imagine you're going along. You'll find yourself right here!
Now where we go, we’ve been in our hearts, because there’s freedom in these parts!
Every where you’re going, you’re going forever, so be here now.

The 21st
White house. Black shutters.


Brown dog.












Wednesday, March 24, 2010

gypsy cave







Welcome to Gypsy Cave;

It’s all that you are, meeting all here you see;
if you’ll only be free, here, truly, you’ll be.

Yourself--- you’ll be, so beautifully written
Don’t worry now, just know that you’ll fit in.
You’ve something your own, to teach, to share,
And you’ll leave not wanting for time or care.
Here, we’re all new; a forever first visit
The door to yourself is always implicit.

You'll love my thoughtful hang out spot
For all it is, and all it’s not
where people come and visit me
on my Kudzu Mountain sanctuary.

The energy here is super charged, and positivity clicks;
Friends visit for tarot readings and chinese fortune sticks...

Here I smoke my cloves, and drink sweet takara
to fill timeless air with the words known tomorrow
in scents of temples, India; of Happenings, patchouli;
Together, with swirling soy candles, like a record store, truly
of days gone by, innocence, where we meet
where the dog and cat lounge at our feet
by the thousands of songs, and the sounds of chimes,
and we make ourselves new, from the oldest of times.

Now there’s nothing inside you that here you can’t fix
as you drift to your zen through the meditation mix,
or any other tune that shuffles its way
up thousands of songs, while kindness holds sway.
Play, though never you’ve touched a guitar;
Sing, living dust of the life-giving star.




Explore curiosities all through the night
here be a soul, be an open delight;
for we’ve gathered all churches, there need be no steeple;
we need only gather some genuine people.

Here, they’re received without grave pretention;
Here, there’s no slave; uncovered intention.
Laugh, for there’s graves enough for those gone;
Life’s grave enough, when you’ve never got on
Nor savored the pictures, or never knew song
Nor travelled through image, just found yourself wrong.


Never join in to the sleep of this fashion;
Sleep is for dream; see dreams for passion!
Passion for music and art and living---
Passion for all, in all that you’re giving.


The tables are littered with Hemingway’s works;
Kerouac, Palahniuk, many Beat quirks
And their rhythms, uncorked, like a wine to flow through us;
Faith over tea with C.S. Lewis.


Sex, conscience, humor, devotion
Are part of our speech; explore here the notion:
Solutions might aid you, whatever your strife
where all odd curiousities of life
are openly pondered, endlessly
for days to come, until we see---
until we see together the dawn
to waken these senses, long after you’re gone






For you must make of this world your friend
And fear not its turning, and fear not its end
For timeless, where travels meet incense and clove
Forever you’ve visited this gypsy cove.

Getting to know what in friends we hold true---
The new one you meet, I hope, will be you.



Welcome to Gypsy Cave.


C. Lue and Angela Dawn Disharoon, lyrics, art.

We have a number of posters available for sale now; just ask! We're putting together everything for a website as soon as possible.



But hey, ask! Full color, 11"x14" $5.00 plus $2.50 shipping and handling. Any image you see in Be Chill, Cease ill can be processed or is already in stock.


We also tone our original drawings in single colors, as well as multiple. Requests can be sent to luelyron@gmail.com!