letterblade: (gnostic)
The internet was down last night when I went to post my picture of the day; and today, [livejournal.com profile] pookit and I finished a major project, a set of pieces that we've been assembling for a while. So between those two factors...

Picspam. )

I'll be getting those listed on Etsy ASAP (would've had them listed tonight, but the weather did not cooperate with photography), as the first night of the writing of the Book of the Law is tomorrow (man, that's a long name for a holiday), and I would like to feed the Crowley geeks. We'll be having some sort of sale on all Thelemic items for the next week or so. I will, of course, blather here again when things are up.

I also have another piece on the bead loom, which ate a solid few hours this evening. Man, loomwork is fine, but I'm going to have a hell of a time pricing it. Those pieces will take me about three or four hours, as much as my most elaborate necklaces, but nobody's going to pay sixty or eighty bucks for a freakin' pride bracelet. I'll have to undersell like hell on those.

And currently I'm just rambling because I'm tired and my brain-to-fingers filter has gone to sleep. Whee! Elephants! Also, [livejournal.com profile] pookit turned a green rubber goat into a pendant. We shall make a necklace of CRAZY with it, oh yes.

Huh.

May. 5th, 2008 07:51 pm
letterblade: (contemplative)
"There is no bond that can unite the divided but love. All else is a curse. Accursed be it to the Aeons. Hell."

"...soul of infinite space, before whom time is ashamed, the mind bewildered, and the understanding dark, not unto thee may we attain, unless thine image be love."

It's a rather odd position, given how most mainstream institutionalized and negativized (it's a word if I say so, damn it) religion works, to find oneself being dragged, kicking and whining, by one's religion towards happiness. Or at least it's doing its best.

I feel like I should say that I'm trying, but I'm not. I don't even feel like I'm capable of it. Maybe I've forgotten how. Or maybe I'm simply too tired--utterly exhausted and drained, emotionally, mentally, and spiritually, and not knowing how to rest or heal. Stripped of both will and joy. Spending each moment killing time until the next one comes. Every time my heart gets broken, I go out and buy a new one, small and hard and pretty; I meant to toss the little lepidolite one I got when Cyn dumped me into Salem harbor and pick up a new one, but I haven't gotten around to either. I don't carry the old heart. I don't want a new one.

I should start seeing a therapist again, I suppose. I can't rescue myself from this, and I can't in good conscience let anyone else try unless I'm paying them. I'm utter poison when I'm in a bad way, and hurt everyone I touch; most everyone who gets near me winds up hating me, and those who can stand it still tire or lose interest. The other alternative is waiting it out, I suppose.

(Gratuitous Crowley of the day being from Book of the Law and the Gnostic Mass, respectively.)

Also--T.S., H.B., I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry.

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags

Most Popular Tags

June 2020

S M T W T F S
 123456
78910111213
141516171819 20
21222324252627
282930