topsy turvy day

i fear that alice's days as the social butterfly have taken a quick and 
deliberate plunge into the depths of some far away yesterday, though it is 
not such a horrible colour to shed, if i must say so myself. i am 
beginning to enjoy my solitary buttons a great deal much more, here in 
front of the screen and keys pounding depths into my eyes and stretching 
my headache to its absolute limits. however, a break in the solitude is 
always welcomed if it means i might see my dear ones again, my members of 
other worlds, all of these soft little characters that i give life on 
paper and on screen and here, in this two-bit ginger work. all of my 
worlds, spliced together, save for jupiter, for its orbit lingers too far 
out in this spliced galaxy, spinning wildly with huge gigantic oranges 
fluttering swiftly by...

but it was firesday that billowed my heart, firesday that burrowed under 
and warmed whatever quivering half of my heart was still wondering how 
such a gathering would indeed turn, in my favour or half against me...for 
it was on firesday that late at night, putting all of my collectables in 
place and polishing the edges of the walls to make something somewhat 
habitable of what was becoming my nest, that the phone rang, and my hands 
fumbled for it, being my angel as i knew. and we spoke for a few minutes, 
him asking me how early could he show up, and me assuring him that any 
time would not be too soon, that i would love to see him in the morning, 
and parting, i meandering through my chores, wondering if i should indeed 
call the black coffee blues back to help him through his crisis, or 
whether i should bathe myself in an ocean of bubbles. perched on the 
dangling string at the edge of the couch, i watched television for the 
first time in centuries with the rest of my family, the little monster of 
a kitten nibbling at my toes, me pulling at my stringy hair thinking a 
shower sounded better and better with every passing moment...when my eyes 
happened to glance out of the window and there, in perfect blond 
silhouette, stood my angel. and of course, i sent myself racing out of the 
front door, a bit more graceful than before (no more toenails were ripped 
off, i avoided tripping over my imaginary friends this time) and flung 
myself into him, all of the joy ever mustered in my heart exploding in an 
instant, this surprise one of the greatest of my life...just to be there, 
with him, where he was, with me, completely unexpected...it was the most 
wonderous thing, which, as always, defied words...and so nothing could 
have gone wrong, nothing could have shot me down from the clouds i was 
dancing on, the world might have ended, the fbi might have ransacked my 
home and stolen me away to some nice padded room where they would steal my 
appendages one by one until i was nothing but a disembodied head, and it 
would not have mattered in the least...there was this inflated happiness 
that carried me far and fast past anything mortal and anything real and i 
was able to taste the ribbony sinew of my dreams.

so after such an amazing night, indeed the weekend had to go well.

the happy daisy girl showed up first, with her bright sunshine eyes 
fetching me a rabbit and then explaining all of her many and various 
adventures to me, so much has she been dancing in this summer, so much has 
she learned, and trusted, and loved...and as i sat with her in my floor 
and tried to explain the relics of love and life and laughter and sex and 
death and all of those questionable things that happen inbetween, ignoring 
interruptions and attempting to teach, it was marvelous. me in my gypsy 
dress, not quite esmerelda but i think they would have let me into the 
court of miracles anyway. the man with xray eyes showed up with his two of 
the 148 angels i adore so much, the ewok and the brown-eyed girl, and he 
also had sabino in tow, sabino who had decided to perhaps disreguard his 
rigid logic for a short period of time to dance in semi-idiotic revelries. 
the ewok in disguise told me of love and life and all of the world she 
loved and missed and left behind in boston, of evil, growling parents with 
cold hearts and cruel hands, of bright eyes and escapades and maybe i 
might be an exotic dancer, she who knows so much more of life than i will 
ever taste, here in my room, shut up with my artifacts and pleased with my 
honey-coloured, rose-tinted version of the universe which i pull through 
my paragraphs and hold in my heart. the brown-eyed girl, she smiled as 
well. it was wonderous, dancing with them, listening to their stories of 
boston (that time they stole all of the tea, in their headdresses. too 
long ago.) so young i feel when i am with them, under the imprints of 
their stories. me and my bare feet and ankle bells and the tunes to willy 
wonka and the chocolate factory playing in the background. kurt showed up, 
his eyes sad as always, though i think he found my universe entertaining. 
he's such a good kid. i twist my fingers around and watch him, wondering 
how far it is, how impossible to reach him, if he would ever run away to 
neverland with the rest of us, or if he is indeed a prisoner inside his 
mind to the unhinging sorrow of his past. back in the back with the bass 
droning out of the closed door, and i pass by and open it just a little, 
and he looks at me as if he has no idea what i am trying to say...ed came, 
with the catholic girl and the giant, ed and his diodes and binary 
language, pushing my wings away but keeping me just close enough...and of 
course my brother charlie in his absolute worship of him, charlie the 
young ed, charlie the ed before time hit him so hard. and me...me with my 
laughter, without their cold crimson cynicism to cut through my 
apparitions with clarity, i've missed them...the world has ben brighter, 
has been kinder without them, but still...i love them, i love them with 
all of their grumbles, with all of their negative charges. they land a 
base of reason in my castle of clouds, at least maybe sometimes with them 
around i have an anchor, the universe might understand my language just a 
little when they are around to translate. the lost girls showed up, well 
the lost girls without alestar, who is escapading in europe, taking 
photographs and having, i am sure, the time of her life. i miss her 
already, knowing she is an ocean closer to the jupiter girl than i am, 
knowing that her sunrise is so much more different than mine...it is a 
scary thing, distance. one of the more frightening illusions of this 
universe. rain and the catwoman and i with our lipstick laughter 
frightened the others away, so addicted we are to absurdity, so in love we 
are with the insane. the silliest phrases, the most abstract of 
definitions make the most sense to us, we braid ourselves around elements 
such as laughter. we are the essence of neverland. we are the ones in thr 
racoon tails. the phone rings, "where the hell am i?" and once again, 
alice's sense of direction had, unintentionally, gotten her other brother 
lost, and the pumpkin king scratched his head and almost drove to ashville 
before distance caught up with him and he backtracked...finally, after the 
sun had found sleep, he showed up, "do you have any idea what i've just 
been through?" but i make it up to him with enormous hugs and long walks 
past the swing dance music on the second floor and trips to hardees until 
seven thirty in the morning. i keep watching his eyes, remembering another 
time, when he was younger than me, and smaller, when i kicked away corpses 
and ran screaming through the barbed wire for him...which of course, never 
existed perhaps, but i believe in everything, and i know him there. so 
much, too much, this world i love so much, between the camera flashes and 
the wrestling matches and the ring master offering marriage counseling in 
the other room. so much, too much. wonderous to be with them, again. 
wonderous to watch my worlds mix and intermingle and survive the 
intermingling. wonderous to ignore the boundaries of sleep until the next 
day, passed out for hours, my angel letting me be, checking on me, 
demanding i get enough sleep. i really do not know what i would do without 
him...nothing has ever completed me so perfectly the way he completes me.

though i enjoy my solitude, i have missed my friends dreadfully, and soon, 
i hope, we will be able to dance again, with our ring-around-the-rosie 
games and our trapeze acts fading to the wind.