The Trap: A Haunted Story of Gentrification Entry #3

INTERIOR- AUDITORIUM - AFTERNOON

CUT TO AERIAL VIEW AUDITORIUM ON SCREEN An African American male ballet dancer is visible before a large auditorium of scattered students and university faculty. Classical music plays.

CUT to MALE DANCER ON SCREEN With ballet's standard physique and chiseled facial features, he finished his routine with focus, grace and artistic precision. He bows.

SOUND EFFECT APPLAUSE


CUT to AUDIENCE ON SCREEN Their applause continues. There is a panel placed before the audience where the Head of Ballet is seated.

CUT to CU of H.O.B. ON SCREEN She speaks into the microphone.

HEAD OF BALLET

Very nice, thank you.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She sits quietly looking only at the stage.

CUT to H.O.B. ON SCREEN

HEAD OF BALLET

Next, for Performance Based Placement, Susan Bateman.



CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She stands.

CUT to H.O.B. ON SCREEN She looks at Susan, who walks across screen.

CUT to CU H.O.B. ON SCREEN

HEAD OF BALLET

Susan, your selection is ready.

CUT to CU SUSAN ON SCREEN She stares emotionless into the crowd. She breathes deeply.

CUT to H.O.B. ON SCREEN There is brief silence as she looks at Susan.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN

S.E. CLASSICAL/BALLET MUSIC PLAYS

Susan begins her routine.

VARIOUS CUTS/ANGLES (approx. 10-15) CLIMATIC ROUTINE - DURATION APPROX. 60 SECONDS

Susan delivers a flawless performance. At the end of her routine/selection, she stands facing the audience, breathing heavily and stern in demeanor.

S.E. APPLAUSE

Susan smiles and bows appropriately.

CUT to H.O.B. ON SCREEN She smiles and nods approvingly.

HEAD OF BALLET

Very well, Susan. Thank you very much.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She nods in acceptance of her praise. As she begins to leave the stage, something in the distance catches her attention.

CUT to LUCAS ON SCREEN He stands at the auditorium entrance. He smiles at Susan and claps again silently.

FADE OUT

INTERIOR- KITCHEN -  EARLY EVENING

CUT to MR. BATEMAN ON SCREEN He sits at the kitchen dinette reading a journal.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN She preps dinner at the kitchen counter.

CUT to MR. BATEMAN ON SCREEN Without looking up from the journal, he addresses his wife.

MR. BATEMAN

Our daughter hasn't come out of her room this evening.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN

MRS. BATEMAN

She said she's worried about placement and has reading to do.

CUT to MR. BATEMAN ON SCREEN He looks up from his reading.

MR. BATEMAN

I'm sure that she placed just fine Marianne.

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN She stops food prep, sighs and turns to her husband with her hand on her hip.

MARIANNE

Well what do you suppose I do William?

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN He puts down the journal.

WILLIAM

Perhaps, you could use a hand with dinner.

He slowly returns to his journal while eyeing Marianne.

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN She chuckles sarcastically in defeat as she continues prepping dinner.

INTERIOR - DINING ROOM - EVENING
CUT to BATEMAN FAMILY ON SCREEN They sit at the dining room table, quietly eating dinner. The light in the dining room is dim. The kitchen beside the dining room it pitch black.

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN She sips a glass of wine, looks towards Susan and then her husband.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN He sips as well. He looks at Marianne, places down his glass and then addresses Susan.

WILLIAM

Susie...

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She looks up from playing with her meal.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN

WILLIAM

How was your day?

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She returns to playing in her food.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN

WILLIAM

I hear who had your placement audition.  

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN

SUSAN

My performance was fine, thank you.

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN She looks to neutralize the tension between the two.

MARIANNE

And I'm glad. I have high hopes for you Susie.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She places down her fork.

SUSAN

But why would the three of us need to move to Philadelphia, if you two wouldn't be there?

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN He pats his mouth with a cloth napkin.

WILLIAM

We would have,

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN She nods in agreement to both.

CUT to WILLIAMS ON SCREEN

WILLIAM

but we both had to work and you know why you couldn't live on campus Susan.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN

WILLIAM

So you didn't have to have another abort....

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN She looks to save face.

MARIANNE

William, performance went well. I am very proud.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN He returns to his meal.

WILLIAM

You can't embarrass your mother and I if you focus on your grades and ballet.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN Reluctantly, but solemnly, she agrees.

SUSAN

I have been irresponsible.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN

WILLIAM



That's correct and...



S.E. THREE (3) KNOCKS FROM KITCHEN

William looks over to the kitchen startled.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She does the same.

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN Same.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN He stands and heads towards the kitchen.

WILLIAM

I'll be right back...

CUT to MARIANNE ON SCREEN

MARIANNE

Do you want me to go with you William?

CUT to CU WILLIAM ON SCREEN He walks into the dark kitchen.

WILLIAM

Uh uh, stay with Susan. 

CUT to KITCHEN ON SCREEN (darkness and silence)

CUT to MARIANNA ON SCREEN She peers into the darkness.

MARIANNE

William?

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She looks into the darkness.

SUSAN

Dad?

CUT to KITCHEN ON SCREEN The light cuts on and William stands at the back door staring out of the window.

CUT to WILLIAM ON SCREEN He stares quietly through the small window curtain.

WILLIAM

Hm.

He turns and ad libs to the women of the house, diverting from the situation at hand.

FADE OUT

the full screenplay is in composition and available upon request...

           

The Trap: A Story of Haunted Gentrification Entry #2

INTERIOR -  COLLEGE CLASSROOM - NOON

CUT to PROFESSOR ON SCREEN He lectures before the class, speaking with artistic gusto.

PROFESSOR

In The Black Cat, the motif of murder

CUT to PROFESSOR POV ON SCREEN The room of young adults has mixed attention.

PROFESSOR

                                                       (dramatically)

and or

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She sits in the back of the class in the middle. She looks down, doodling with a pen in a notebook.

PROFESSOR

death 

CUT to PROFESSOR ON SCREEN 

PROFESSOR

that follows Poe,

CUT to LUCAS ON SCREEN Caucasian male, looks at the professor pretentiously, humored by the performance.

PROFESSOR

stalking him in fact

CUT to COLLEGE STUDENT #1 ON SCREEN Caucasian redhead female, she is unenthused.

PROFESSOR

reveals the artist's personal connection with

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She is as before.

PROFESSOR

The Ancient Fire God.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN She draws stars in the right margin of her notebook. 

PROFESSOR

With the black cat as the representative of the protagonist

As she draws, Susan's hand slows involuntarily, almost to a complete stop.

SOUND EFFECT PROFESSOR VOICE PROGRESSIVE DISTORTION

PROFESSOR

What is to be said of the feline's screeching informing the policemen? 

CUT to CU of SUSAN ON SCREEN She is horrified as possession sets in.

SOUND EFFECT MUFFLED DISCUSSION STUDENT AND PROFESSOR

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN Her hand slowly moves to the left and begins to quickly make illegible markings, scratches, over her notes. 

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN Her fear transitions to deranged fixation on what's being written. It is apparent Susan is no longer "present" in class.

PROFESSOR

                                                    (cheerful gusto)

Susan!

With her head still down towards the notebook, mouth slightly opened, she slowly looks up at the professor. Her hand still moves but more slowly.

CUT to PROFESSOR ON SCREEN He is oblivious to the change in her presence.

PROFESSOR

You seem deeply engaged.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She is silent as she stares at the professor.

CUT to PROFESSOR ON SCREEN 

PROFESSOR

What are your thoughts on wives catering to their husbands' perversions?

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She continues to stare unresponsively while her writing has ceased.

CUT to LUCAS ON SCREEN Still cockily amused, he looks back and forth between the professor and Susan. He chuckles while looking at the professor.

LUCAS

I don't think Susan is concerned with your perversions.

The class chuckles in unison. 

CUT to PROFESSOR ON SCREEN Embarrassed, he quickly regroups and diverts with his rehearsed enthusiasm. 

PROFESSOR

Very well then, moving along!

CUT to LUCAS ON SCREEN He looks back at Susan.

PROFESSOR

The Premature Burial!

CUT to LUCAS POV ON SCREEN Remaining lifeless in the happenings, Susan's eyes have cut over to Lucas.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN Through his amusement, he shows concern for Susan. He nods to encourage a confirmation that she is indeed okay.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN Ignoring Lucas, her eyes are now back on the professor, she then cuts her attention back to her notebook.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN A scribbly letter "J" is amidst the illegible markings.

CUT to CU of SUSAN ON SCREEN She stares at the markings.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN 

PROFESSOR

                                                 (loud outburst)

Class dismissed!

CUT to (possible CU) SUSAN ON SCREEN The loud sudden announcement, causes Susan to snap out of her engagement; blinking quickly. She tears.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN (?) There is movement around her as the classroom empties. She quickly wipes her tears, runs her hands through her hair; gathering her composure and her belongings.

CUT to LUCAS ON SCREEN He stands, putting on his book bag. Noticing Susan's tears, he takes a more serious disposition.

LUCAS

Hey Susan, you okay?

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She stands, leaving the class without any regard to Lucas.

CUT to LUCAS ON SCREEN He is offended even irritated by her brush off. 


FADE OUT

to be continued...

The Trap: A Story of Haunted Gentrification Entry #1

The following screenplay was inspired by the comedy of actor, comedian and writer, Mike Epps...


BLACK SCREEN

SUPERIMPOSITION: "1979" white, Arabic Typesetting

SUPERIMPOSITION FADE OUT

FADE IN



EXTERIOR - ROW HOME - 11PM
STILL SHOT NORTH PHILADELPHIA ROW HOME

The windows and front door are boarded. The home is completely dilapidated and declared abandoned by the city.



INTERIOR - BACK BEDROOM - SAME
CUT to PROSTITUTE ON SCREEN High and naked, an African American woman lays sprawled across a dirty, ruined mattress. Her head rolls back and forth with the dips and spins of her high. Smoke fills the air.



CUT to DRUG DEALER AND BUYER ON SCREEN An African American male seated at an old wooden table with only two chairs, the dealer passes a vile to his customer, who throws his money down on the table. The table is dirty and covered in paraphernalia, food remnants and trash, ashtrays and malt liquor cans. The African American consumer stands before the dealer.



CUT to DEALER ON SCREEN High himself, he coughs and looks up at the customer.

DEALER

Disrespectful bitch, you couldn't put that shit in my hand?

CUT to BUYER ON SCREEN Dressed in dirty tattered clothing, and jittery. He side steps back and forth, his jaw jumps. He looks back over his shoulder and then back at the dealer, reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a smaller revolver.

BUYER

Bitch!

He fires twice into the dealer's chest.

CUT to PROSTITUTE ON SCREEN She sits up and screams.

CUT to BUYER ON SCREEN He cleans the bleeding and hyperventilating dealer's pockets of money and drugs and takes off.

INTERIOR - DOWNSTAIRS- SAME
CUT to BUYER ON SCREEN  He runs through the living room/dining room, into the kitchen and climbs throughboarded back door.

INTERIOR - BACK BEDROOM - SAME

CUT to DEALER ON SCREEN He lays lifelessly in the chair at the table, bled out entirely.  The prostitute runs passed holding her clothes. Still screaming.

PROSTITUTE (V.O.)

June Bug dead!

ZOOM IN

CU OF JUNE BUG

FADE TO BLACK SCREEN

SUPERIMPOSITION: "2000" white, Arabic Typesetting

FADE IN

INTERIOR - LIVING ROOM- 2PM
CUT to REAL ESTATE AGENT ON SCREEN A well dressed and perky Caucasian woman shows the newly renovated home to a middle aged Caucasian couple, who follows behind her into the living room.

R.E. AGENT

The three bedroom, two and a half bath features brand new cherry hardwood flooring...

CUT to COUPLE ON SCREEN They look around the room and then separate while browsing.

R.E. AGENT

The home was completely gutted and soundproofing installed throughout.

CUT to WIFE ON SCREEN Now standing between the dining room and kitchen.

WIFE

Are these stainless steal appliances?

CUT to REAL ESTATE AGENT ON SCREEN

R.E. AGENT

Why yes and brand new tile flooring.

CUT to HUSBAND ON SCREEN He steps beside his wife and places his hand on the small of her back.

HUSBAND

How's the neighborhood? Our daughter will be attending Temple's Fine Arts program in the fall and we're hoping that we can move into an area that is dedicated to their students' housing.

CUT to REAL ESTATE AGENT ON SCREEN She approaches the couple.

R.E. AGENT

Yes, Mr. Bateman. Both of the surrounding homes are Temple University housing.

CUT to BATEMAN COUPLE ON SCREEN They look at one another.

CUT to REAL ESTATE AGENT

R.E. AGENT

and this listing would have been as well, if you weren't making such an attractive offer. But no worries, it is still a quite and safe neighborhood.

CUT to BATEMAN COUPLE ON SCREEN They look at one another again, weighing their options.

CUT to REAL ESTATE AGENT ON SCREEN She gives a rehearsed smile of friendly professionalism.

INTERIOR - BACK BEDROOM - DAY TIME

CUT to FF VIEW of SUSAN ON SCREEN She hangs a poster on her new bedroom wall. The room is visible behind her.

CUT to REAR VIEW of SUSAN She stands, hands on hips, and reviews the poster of a ballerina.

SUPERIMPOSITION LOWER RIGHT SCREEN  "3 weeks later..."

Mrs. Bateman enters the room. BLACK BLUR

SUPERIMPOSITION FADE OUT

MRS. BATEMAN

Susan?

CUT to XCU of SUSAN ON SCREEN She turns around.

SUSAN

Yeah, Mom...

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN She stands by the doorway and far wall. While large furniture is in place, there is a wall of boxes.

MRS. BATEMAN

Sweetheart, I know you wanted to stay on campus but...

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN

SUSAN

I know Mom, you want to keep me safe and on task. I'm not wayward you know.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN Now red in the face, she approaches her daughter. Her hands are outstretched to grasps her daughter's.

MRS. BATEMAN

Oh, sweetie, I know. But try convincing your father of that.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN AND SUSAN ON SCREEN She holds her daughter's hands.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN

MRS. BATEMAN

Ugh, eighteen already and just...

She holds her daughters face.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN POV ON SCREEN Completely unenthused, Susan receives her mother's affection.

MRS. BATEMAN

...so beautiful.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN She let's go of Susan's face and backs up and looks at the room.

MRS. BATEMAN

Do you want some help unpacking?

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She does the same.

SUSAN

Uh, no. I'm okay. I'll do what I can but

(sarcastically)

classes start tomorrow. So the last minute move will have to take a backseat to my education.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN Still emotional. She places her hand over her heart.

MRS. BATEMAN

That's correct and your dancing.

She heads towards the door.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She watches her mother, exasperated.

CUT to MRS. BATMAN ON SCREEN She stops at the doorway of the large room and turns back to look at her daughter.

MRS. BATEMAN

You know, I just want to be there as you pursue ballet, the way I did. I just want to be there for my baby.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN

SUSAN

And now you will be, Mommy.

CUT to MRS. BATEMAN ON SCREEN She chuckles and sighs, leaving the room.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She looks around the room and looks at the sunlight coming through her window. She approaches the window.

CUT to FF VIEW of SUSAN She sternly pulls the curtains shut.

FADE TO BLACK SCREEN

BURST LAMP LIGHT

SOUND EFFECT CLASSICAL MUSIC

FF CU of SUSAN ON SCREEN She reviews her frame in the mirror.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN Dressed in her nude leotard, she begins practicing her craft. She runs through her positions, plies, etendres, relevers, glissers.

ALTERNATE VARIOUS VIEWS THROUGHOUT

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN And when she begins to sauter, in the mirror she notices her closet door slowly opening. She stops and looks to her desk.

CUT to DESK ON SCREEN Her CD player/boom box sits on the desk. She presses pause.

CUT to SUSAN ON SCREEN She approaches the closet.

CUT to SUSAN POV ON SCREEN She looks inside the closet.

CUT to LOWERED FF VIEW of SUSAN ON SCREEN She looks down into the dark closet. The tops of her shoes can be seen. She closes the door.

CUT to CU of SUSAN ON SCREEN  She turns around to head back to her desk.

 SUSAN

Hm.

FADE OUT

BLACK SCREEN

to be continued...

















Married to the Devil

Speak Master...

I've recently began studying the Mesmeric Revelation. During Poe's experiment, his sleep-waking subject reveals that our personal or individualized incarnations are mere portions of an unincorporate mind, an Universal Mind. Mr. V left me in existential meditation, one of my favorite pastimes. As I traveled through the snowcapped mountains of Denver, I pondered on what portion of what the more traditional call "God" could I, infact, be. My cultural roots conclude that I, Lauren Hunter, am a physical manifestation of Universal Love. Love. Those who are familiar with my work maybe inclined to agree but the sadomasochistic nature that tends to accompany the various forms of love making in which I self indulge can appear to be contradictory to my self professed and promoted purpose of incarnation.

Physical and Universal laws mandate opposites. Outside of such mandate, there is no means of making a distinction between manifestations. What is good if there is no bad? The status quo remains with Love and Hatred; though similar the two are not interchangeable with the aforementioned. I can not unconditionally choose, exercise or bestow love without first experiencing and conducting hatred and found the results to be short lived self gratification. While an entity like myself is capable of absolute destruction through the sentencing of a traitor or any sense of betrayal, the Love Making I exude is very clearly my reason for being.

With that said, it should be no surprise to my readers that I have a longing, no a fetish, no, more so of an emotional and sexual submission to the power of the villain, Hatred, The Devil. I glorify with watery offering the movie and television characters or portrayals of Hatred, as Dr. Hannibal Lector, Jafar, The Dark Knight's Joker and Once Upon a Time's Rumpelstiltskin. I find the unconventional, unfiltered and uninhibited psyche of the villainous Mastermind to be an unfailing disturbance to the slumber of my "Cave of Wonders". The Devil gives it the most pleasurable pounding pain. And, no, it is not because he offers a "walk on the wide side" or an uncontrolled element of danger. Rather, he uses his intelligence to prove his strength, capability, influence, mental freedom and overall power after being loving has left him uncared for, unsatisfied, hurt. "Is it really so?", said the Devil. Never Again! His experience with Love, prior to myself that is, had not affirmed his Being. So he rejects the notion of softness, blind faith, the illusion of justified submission and opts to constitute the fiery portion of the Universal Mind. He is Satan. He raises Hell and I am his consort. He reduces opposition to ashes and I wash them away. Only together can God truly swoon.

AGAPE - I AM Arched

I love you, constantly, but only in secret. Because, I couldn't stand the public humiliation of my affections not being returned. So I settle to think of you, hurt for you, long for you, without the self-degradation of hoping for you. The pursuit of someone who you can not have, when love and care is what you presently require the most, will render the proudest of the mightiest null and void. Instead, I detox from the sound of your voice. I wean from the sight of your face; your full lips, round eyes and fiery features. Seldom do I reminisce of fonder times; talks of love, joint ventures and divinations of the cries of productivity. Ashe. But I stand a self-defensive Being with a memory that can not and will not withdraw. Predecessors reign as a reminder of what is all too common. A lack of sincerity, selfishness, unreasonableness, cowardice, lack of vision, but most importantly, irreverance has made me a Woman of skepticism. After twenty-eight years of Being, seven years of Motherhood and a year of Marriage that mirrored the emotional turmoil of relationships passed, I will not invest in the unmanifested. I held on, I hold on to all that I know to be true, solemn and benefitional. No man who wants me, truly wants me, could stand to be away from you.

You remind me of Chuck, Shango. You remind me of Larry, Shango. You remind me of Dontavius, Shango. You remind me of Reggie, Shango. Tell me the Truth of what you feel, what you're dying to hide from me, Oh Fiery God of the Heavens. You burn so gloriously, for what seems to be for the purposes of self-gratification only, and then set without fail. Where are you? Where are you going? Pick up. Pick up. Pick up. Lift up.

The moon couldn't deny you if She tried, Shango. Winged and ablaze, you are mine. Though, I will remain content being the only Being who knows. But lust for me this, was I not worshipful enough? Did I not pause from gazing at myself to see you and your warmth? Was my hand mirror not demoted from its necessity, waiting for you to praise what I do? Was my mouth not wide open for you? Did not drink from you? Did I not sing your praises and allow your current to move me, Oh Shango? Willingly, I submit. I submitted. But I can not respect you enough for you to respect yourself. Oh Shango, I AM not your bitch. You prefer the relations of dogs, who by nature require, and therefore seek, the Mastery of others. I do not bark, I do not sit when I am told, I do not lay down on order unless your intention is to please me. I will not fetch the news, it is yours to seek and read and learn and what man wants information that's been slobbered on by a lesser being?

I AM, all day, especially at night, I AM. I AM, when you have chosen to abdicate your responsibility due to self-bestowed inadequacy, I AM. When my constant words of encouragement, caresses of passion, bites of ardor and ecstacy go unheard and unprolific in your ears of immaturity, dependency and weakness,  I AM. I would grant you my hand mirror to aid you on your chosen journey of loneliness, wishing, though I AM SHE that grants them, that you see in you that which I do but, do you See, Oh Fiery God of the Heavens? I AM arched.

I laid there, in submission, agape, for him and him alone. "Shango..."

I AM Lyssa

| CXCVIII | 33,827 | IV

I want my child.

I want my Alyssa.

I want my child to know the power in her voice, in her laughter, in her desires, in her thoughts.

I want my child to look in the mirror and love her beautiful chocolate skin.

I want my daughter to know that boys are mean but trust and believe that girls are much meaner.

I want my baby to believe in magick, to know that She is magick, because said Disney We are!

I want my daughter to know what True Love is and it does not come from covering Her head, that restrictive path of death is Sin.

I want my daughter to know She is her Mother and her Mother is She.

I want and need My Alyssa to know that there is no Jehovah. She is God, She can do Anything, She is Everywhere and She knows Everything; so the word of the law Thelema.

I want her to fall in love with Herself first and only then will she be able to find the Love of the Man she truly deserves. He is not her Head nor is She is. They are One, they are none, they are perfect.

I want my child to exceed the accomplishments of her mother.

I want my child to drive and Hunt and reign, as her very blood compels her to do. Growl at the boys My Baby.

I want my child to feel the warmth of the Sun and realize her potential.

I want her to see the glow of the Moon and love her gentleness.

Dear baby, You are thy Master, not He, not even Me.

I want my child to know She is accompanied by the tens of thousands, the hundreds of thousands of Us who walked before her, who now walk beside her, Our Ancestors. You are a Descendant.

I need my baby to know her Mommy feels the pain of distance and separation.

I miss my child.

I need Alyssa to remember My Love and when She misses Mommy the most, to close her eyes and to call my name and Lula will make sure I answer.

I need my child to know that not a single soul on this planet or the next means more to me than she does.

Your Mommy sang to you, your Mommy dreamed and hoped and planned for you and still does.

I cried the very millisecond I saw you, Little One, and I cry as I type and long for you. Your Mother can not lie.

Remember who You are, My Daughter.

“Beauty and strength, leaping laughter, delicious languor (faith in Us), force and fire are of us.”

As so above baby, so below,

Your Mommy

She loved and she wrote. She wrote some more and she loved to write.

When You Peel the Onion

| CXCVI | 33,371 | II

                       

 "The Universe is the Practical Joke of the Fettered at the Expense of the Free”

F.P. laughed as he described the sorrowful reality that the majority of people prefer to wear chains, obey orders and move in fearful droves. Much like adolescent high school students, We free men and women are ridiculed for our distinct differences. We walk, speak and view ourselves and our abilities with a confidence that is as rare as our very existence. When those of Us who are born with the heroic wherewithal to know that the most unlikely means produce the best results, We are treated with a lack of respect. They scoff, spit, wanting to scrimmage, so sorrowful. He further explains their tiers.

“Those nearest to him wept, seeing… Sorrow. Those next to them laughed…”

Employing laws of power, Master Therion kept the hypersensitive closest to himself. There are those of us who can not help but to pity the fate of the fettered. It is a shame. Then those who are of the constitution to find humor in this reality most likely laugh at the weeping as well. The rankings continue down to those who were blind to the reason for either response but felt blessed enough to be present. Wisely, they laughed when He did. May we all be conscious enough to distinguish the Self from the Not.

“… in Himself He neither laughed nor wept.”

Who sorroweth are not of us. Beauty and strength… force and fire, are of us. (2:20)

As so above, so below,

The Huntress

She loved and she wrote. She wrote some more and she loved to write.

The Verdict of the Female Child

| CLXXXVI |

Occultists and metaphysicists alike debate our current place in the cosmic stream of time. One significant telltale is the unbridled lack of gratitude of Man. Like all beings, they crave and require love, beknown to them or not, and will do the most desperate and depraved of things to obtain it. After all, when they pillage they rape. Be them Black, White, Hispanic or Asian, there is an Age-old complex that they are worth more and capable of more than what they truly are. Their mothers, sisters, daughters, but especially their wives, Originators of Life itself, are casted as receptacles for their mismanaged emotional dilemma. Despite desperate attempts to heal and assist their male counterparts, Woman yields no result when desperately battling undeveloped interpersonal skills. Even when Man is of the highest of intellect and success, productive conversation is sacrificed for shouting fits of anger; spawning physical altercation, verbal abuse and when the opportunity presents itself, their established neglect turns abandonment. Their pack raised tenet that fear equates to respect manifests as disregard for their feminine Source. They raise their sons and their friends to believe that if the entity does not possess a penis its thoughts are worthless, if it has them at all. The mind of Woman is frozen and helpless in the provincial outlook of their male “superiors”. Man has spiritually surrendered to nothing, mastering only chronic masturbation. The danger being, when Self is your sole focal point, You deny Yourself the privilege and the responsibility of identifying with your evolutionary equal.

Unfortunately, though, when Woman makes a philosophical contribution to the conversation, if She is even perceived as present, He succumbs to instant bewilderment. “It spoke and it made a point far too logical for my manual stroke to soothe. What ever shall I do as the dominant figure the current Aeon? I know, hit it.”, with all ambiguity implied. The very presence of this unbalanced view in society is the very proof that the cosmic slate as yet to be wiped clean. Yet, how are we, as She, incapable?

When Swastikas were stitched, heads of households and even their regents sent overseas, the powers that be forced Woman to withdraw Her open hand and provide for both Herself and Her children. Upon return, though, He found the current ever changed. With gained self-esteem and a lessened need for monetary provision, Woman packaged respect along with Her criterium for love and companionship. A lack of such, is indicative of the measure of the particular entity. Thus, choose wisely.

Decades fast forwarded, Man remains unprepared to do more than what is no longer required by the Mother, two thirds of the Universal equation. Coupled with their general lack of desire to evolve passed what their forefathers deemed the norm, men now retaliate with heightened aggression. In order to accommodate the primordial and therefore merited egotisms, both sexes must relinquish the demand for indentured emotional slavery in exchange for metaphysical generosity. Seeing Self and serving that Self in the other person protects and preserves the ever so sensitive ego that would otherwise be catastrophically destructive.

As so above, so below,

The Huntress

Cum Stained Comforters

| CLXV |

When we first met, his King-sized Serta was the amenity that sealed the deal. It was the “best sleep I’ve ever had”. It was a Stark contrast to the twin sized mattress I had been reduced to sharing with my five year old at my mother’s house, which, most of the time resulted in me making even less desirable accommodations on the floor with a solitary pillow, no blanket. He was my hero, of sorts, no cape, just a King-sized Serta and cable. For once, I was on clouds, instead of buried alone under cum stained comforters that I couldn’t afford to wash, my Savior with a Serta. Now, after eight months of corny courtship and one year of less than mediocre marriage, our mattress is lumpy and uneven and he doesn’t make enough to replace it. Needless to say, this has a bearing on my firm yet somehow fluffy fairytale of matrimonial bliss. What’s a girl to do when her standards of comfort have out grown her husband’s pockets? What’s the purpose of Serta sentimentality when my back remains unblown, the toilet runs incessantly, the window units are insufficient, and my hair and nails are undone for the twelfth consecutive month? I find myself flashing a food stamp card instead of my dust of diamond ring. But I don’t know which inhibits me more, the card that says that I, married at 27, can’t afford to feed myself or the fact that my marriage is symbolized by a ring that was too cheap to pawn to pay the bills. He spent two grand to stroke Kay’s jeweler. Every kiss since started bitterly, so I stopped wearing the sucker.  I didn’t marry a man 17 years my senior to go without. But, was he ever truly my provider? I mean, when we met I made twice as much at my job than he did at his two. Now that I’ve been encumbered with unemployment, what was once mistaken for shining armor is now dull and his white horse, a mangy mule. I wish my memory served me better. Was my money his extra or vice versa? I don’t know. I just wish my hair and nails were done. 

As so above, so below,

The Huntress