Contemplating heavy things this Memorial Day, which I think in a sense might be more fitting than just cookouts and holiday weekend discounts on almost EVERYTHING, from those businesses still open. I was nonetheless sorely tempted once I got home tonight to take advantage of at least one discount or other, but in the end, just slid a little more into savings.
I watched a reel on Instagram this morning, from a veteran and former first-responder with PTSD, turned political protest goth musician. He said most of the deceased veterans he’d known didn’t die overseas at war. Rather, after they came home, suffering from the enormity of what they’d gone through, they decided to end their own lives.
He argued the greatest way to honor them was simply not to make more of them, that war is fundamentally exploitative. I think I agree with that. I wouldn’t ever criticize anyone for deciding to enlist, whatever their reasoning. I’m just anti-war. Their service ideally shouldn’t even be necessary.
I’ve also heard war described as one government’s way of pitting the middle and lower classes of their nation against the middle and lower classes of another nation. I suppose the whole idea of a middle class even existing is contentious, and perhaps designed to further economic conflict instead of solidarity.
So, I was pondering all of that, and feeling rather guilty for having posted yesterday that I would be missing the family get-together this weekend (they at least brought me back leftovers, for the record). Truly, I suppose pain defies comparison. One person’s misery shouldn’t be measured against someone else’s.
Still, I felt very selfish for wallowing in my own problems, when there are so many others dealing with so much more. Maybe I have trauma and so on, but I managed to avoid PTSD, even after a history of abuse.
But I was powerfully reminded of the ideas of mortality and innocence lost. There’s a lot of that in Lost Souls, as well. Nothing’s transformation and the author’s description of it grapples with this head-on. There’s some gorgeous imagery that blends elements of childhood nostalgia with details of a disenchanting adolescence that strips youth away too soon. All of it’s juxtaposed together, depicting the competing elements of Nothing’s personality, and the choices he makes.
I have been struggling, myself, the past few days, once again. But I reasoned it would be especially tragic to give up on a beloved author’s birthday last night, and just as much if not more so, on Memorial Day, today.
So, instead, I’m working my way through it in ways that may look morbid on the surface but that I nonetheless found comforting. Painting my magnetic and wooden hearts acquired from the craft store before Valentine’s Day (more of them), adding skulls and skull-adjacent faces. But they’re all smiling. I’ll share them soon.
Also listening to lots of goth. Heavy on the Bauhaus.
How does any of this relate to the writing prompt?
My favorite book from childhood.
It depends on how far back we intend to go.
There was one I think called Hats for Sale, about a man who balanced a massive stack of caps atop his head, as he walked around selling them. My dad read me that one a lot, but he also told stories he made up. Three bears named Ready, Teddy, and Freddy had many adventures, night after night.
He also had a great story about an aging, gray pony left alone on a rainy night, her stall festooned with all the ribbons from prizes she’d won in her younger days. The rain made the colors of all the ribbons run through her coat, mane, and tail, and she won a prize the next morning. That one, he sent to My Little Pony, but they informed him they didn’t take ideas from outside the company.
I also loved Dr. Seuss. Those and the hat seller book come to mind first and foremost.
For many years, I also collected children’s books as an adult, because I adored the vivid art, and the stories. I loved the ones that explored mythology and folklore from other cultures, and the bright and eye-catching Miss Spider books, etc. My inner child never really left me, and gathering those books was a great way of honoring her.
Then, I had my daughter, and the collection found a new purpose.
In between my childhood and hers, I think when I was about in sixth grade, possibly a little earlier, I discovered classics in small form, at our school library. They may have been abridged, and edited to be suitable for younger readers.
Among the volumes, I found some Edgar Allan Poe, and the tales of Robin Hood. Robin Hood didn’t stick with me as much as Poe, as I grew up– unless you count my passing interest in some of the Robin Hood movies.
Poe. I even dressed up as “The Raven” one year for Halloween. There wasn’t much in the way of Raven masquerade masks at the time. Somehow, it seemed they became much more popular, in the Halloweens that followed. But I found one, that at least had a suggestion of a beak, and was black with metallic gold accents. I wore that with a black dress, a black cloak, and black gloves.
I had found fingerless gloves online that actually had the entirety of the poem printed on them, but they sadly were too small.
Really, I suppose I should have ringed my eyes with black makeup, for a better effect, as I did when I posed for selfies, in a Baron Samedi-inspired look, with a skull mask.
Also, the lighting must not have been great in these photos, because they’re a touch out of focus. But, here they are:
That mask now resides in my French-Quarter-themed bathroom, with some other more overtly Mardi Gras details. Feathered masks, beads, etc.
Did those early books I encountered actually include any of Poe’s poetry? I’m not certain in retrospect, but I am sure I read “The Cask of Amontillado” and found it FASCINATING!
Poe certainly reflects the themes of mortality, and mourning for more innocent times, as well as the loss of love. That’s why I found it appropriate to discuss and consider tonight.
On a lighter note, I’m not sure if I knew this previously and disregarded it, but there’s a chance the bird on the cover of my lurid Amazon book Smoke(and) Crows might actually be a raven, not a crow at all. The photo is tagged both crow and raven, but when I searched “raven” tonight, the birds that came up under “raven” looked more similar to that one, in beak shape. I think I’ve read that’s one distinguishing feature between the two.
Note: The actual title contains an ampersand, but if I’m not mistaken, I don’t think ampersands play well with WordPress.
I’ve also come across some pointed general advice that a novel without a happily ever after shouldn’t be marketed as romance. I’m not sure what else I would call it, however. Straight up paranormal fiction? Erotic paranormal fiction?
The ending is ambiguous, regarding the relationship. I’ll say that much.
For reference, here’s the cover image.
I know I linked the book’s Amazon page at some point, but just as a reminder.
Crow? Raven? What say you?
There’s also some tragedy in my shorter work “Hyacinth House,” but I’m not sure if I tagged that one as a romance, as well. I might not have, since it was more about antics inside a haunted hotel/bed and breakfast. The romantic connections from Wishful Sinful mostly took a backseat.
SO, if you do plan to bravely go digging through my self-published work, be forewarned. It’s not all moonlight spilling over couples living out their eternities in one another’s arms.
Having said that, I suppose I should see about at least tweaking Mystery Train, if not outright adding to it, from where I left off. There were the details I wanted to fill in, toward the beginning, too.
And, a late-night snack of some kind. I did already eat twice, but breakfast was just two cold slices of thin-crust pizza. The leftovers were much more substantial. Riced cheesy potatoes, shredded beef, a mix of asparagus and green beans with mushroom and I think bacon bits (also heavily seasoned and VERY tasty), and Coleslaw.
And I had two kiwis and some salad, after coming home from work. Still peckish, all the same.
I might see about picking up more fresh fruit tomorrow. Maybe peaches.
Actually ate ALL the strawberries yesterday, as well as all the raspberries. I guess I could have polished off the bigger package of strawberries, after all! The one I did buy, however, was very, very good. I flipped it over to check the berries on the bottom, and I was pretty selective in choosing which one I wanted.
Mkay, onward, to snacking! And possibly writing.
Oooh, I just found a lovely image on Pexels, I think from the same photoshoot as another I have used in the past. It reminds me very much of the adage about an unexamined life, amended with the addition that a life not worth living isn’t worth examining.
In other words, go out and live that MAIN CHARACTER ENERGY!!!
For all the solitude inherently necessary in creating art, I think those kinds of adventures still remain essential. Keep your life worth living, to help fuel stories worth reading/retelling.
Really signing off now. G’nite!
All the Bright and Sparkly Things 
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