merovence: tigertails

tigrtails tigertails






"and, miss stahlman? it's your call." announced The Dealer.

without hesistation, sandy took her time, a bit, to be dramatic and add exclaimation to her point, and stacked her golden pieces into three tall piles.
straightened them out so they were just precisely stacked. smiled. tossed her hair back over her shoulder with an adoring flick of her neck, you see.
lifted her wrists to allow her sleeves to drop back out of the way from how they were covering part of her hands. and slid the entire piles, 3, neatly
stacked, into the center of the table.

"I'm all-in," and she smiled. a confident, excited grin that would light up the farthest corner of any room.








08.01.10 a Garcia Birthday tigertail

One day while i was living in fairfax, bobby came over to my place and we went for a walk in my neighborhood (willow ave if you're familiar with that awesome spot on planet earth). and, we went because i wanted to show him this garden these people ? planted. it was between houses so idk whose it was but it was all these cactuses on the side of the road in weird things like an old shoe, a tin pan, idk it was a while ago. i remember the shoe and the pan. there were like 8 or 9 different plants in random old things. and it's a hike up this big hill, around some bends, finally, we get up there and i'm like,

this is what i wanted to show you. you know, and he scratched his chin that way bob does, and said to me,

Jerry once said that 'jesus makes cacti be prickly little 5 o'clock shadows to make the girls giggle and laugh.'

and it cracked me up. sun hot and happy, and i finished laughing and i said, "he didn't say that, you made that up." i mean, that doesn't even make sense. jesus doesn't make plants.

and bobby said, "yeah I made it up. i wanted to make you laugh about them."

"then why didn't you just say the joke yourself?" he's very complicated.

and bobby said, "everything jerry says makes you smile. if I'd said it myself I would have sounded inauthentic. i think it'd be a lot classier if it were planted in some nice hand carved wood pots or some marble. it's trash."

i was like, "it's not in my yard. i don't put my plants in trash. i just think it's funny."

"jerry would have thought so, too," he said, and I laughed again.








i sat very quietly on the wood deck walkway next to the swampy pond, and waited. it was new jersey wildlife refuging at its best. it was autumn, i was on the road, and i wanted to explore the woods since woods are my favorite life style choice, for me. i live in the woods, in my heart, always. if i'm not in the woods, in my heart, i resonate there, with those animals. so I sat on the wood lattice, and waited. the sign posted for pond swamp visitors read something close to this,

"this pond is filled with turtles. they blend in for their protection and safety. if you want to see them, stand here for 15-20 minutes, and you will see them." the answer awaits.

so i watched. (watched what i could not yet see.) about 10-15 minutes later, all in one instant, crystalized vision of turtles everywhere, literally about 50 or 80 of them. swimming, sitting on the banks of the pond. half in the water. doing all sorts of everything. teeming with life. outrageous!



for whatever issue. mundane to divine. (drop this in your toolkit)




"mother, come quickly!"

what is it, reginald? said lady morgan as she followed her boy out the door of the cottage into the woodlet. out the door, over the porch, through the terrain affixed with brick, back to the barren dirt path she followed to commune avec les cerfs. "my god what has happened to you?!!"

it was the little buck. not the big one with 3 prongs on each antler. not the mid-size one with the grey on its flanks, but the little one, with the rust-colored horns and he was injured. and so very sad.

maggie, who was sitting nearby him, turned and declared, "he's really hurt, mom." as that was all that could be said. he was alone, and frightened by his own pain. his mouth was abscessed deep inside, away from where I could tend. there was no poultice for this, as skittish fawns and even my most trusted friends of the deer family behind the wooded keep know - you don't take a deer to the apothecary or tend to them, you just stay with them until their wounds expire themselves. "my poor little angel" i coo'ed. must have said that a thousand million times before he laid down and left earth. that poor little angel. his hooves of fire tussled with another, his horns were ripped to shreds, his face attacked by some beast from his group. abandoned and outcast, he watched me watch him for over an hour longer than anybody could see another hurt that way and do nothing. maggie, reggie, and lady m. stood silent, sat nearby, and hung onto his every motion, until he left. we couldn't go, he had to. it is hard to imagine the look in his eye, watching me say he is okay with us there, when he was not well, and knew he was ended. he let us end him for him. we waited and he left. our good friend, the rust-colored antlers, and I -

there broke a rap on the door frame, timid and quiet. mi'lady? are you awake?

I'm writing a tale, lisette. what need of you to bother me here?

mi'lady (i turned towards the door to hear her) the champion debate takes place at 4 this afternoon. would you watch it?

yes! (and I slammed the tome shut) that is a well-happy diversion, lise (dust floating away from the bindings into the room) - do grab my cape (quill holstered). for i can write more about the gloom of life later."















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