The Warlock’s Wake

(first draft)

The Warlock’s Wake
the minions huddled together crooked  spines with scales sipping their kerosene cocktails
the old lady down the lane told the news to one and all
heretical harpy, that one
the last to arrive silent as graves were the Minutiae twins bringing their only recipe no one ate

entrails untouched, desecrated faire
all agreed: the way she died felt undeserved
though her life spent unclean
dirtied hands and lying lips
the good deed finally met punishment (simple as that)

no rhythm or rhyme sewed the stitch
at the warlock’s wake

the crones and maids
kept their distances, wisely
for each knew they could catch the other’s
disease of time and beauty
and the sting would hurt
one would have a mirror break
(but the old woman down the lane covered them all with black crepe, for she respected the dead: and coddled the living)

the pretty ones and the ugly ones would not compete today: the warlock showed them that

you never think it will happen to you
you never listen you never learn
the imps danced outside and smoked
flirted with the fairies
and the demons sat sulking

the moon lobbed juicy blood orange sweet dripping embarrassed moon felt swollen engorged hidden behind smoked veils of clouds revealing the show one at a time

the stars prickled like wet wool on thin wrists
uncomfortable in the evening
but at the warlock’s wake

demons
imp
genie
the bugbears and the grim
ate suspicious scraps from the tables

(finishing the twins’ feast)
the Dwarf sang a dirge
while the small ones cried
(the only ones who seemed to grieve)
at the warlock’s wake
rumors said she died of fright
and some said she had no friends
others knew the truth must be
that she died of lust
but the coffin weighted with coins and fur
fooled the bearers six
she was not where they thought she’d be

six feet underground
but dancing under the moon
with a new moon face
and a new moon witch
the warlock’s wake
the drunken demons danced
to false beats and strings
it sounded a lot like this:
and this:

the batter head drums
and hear that?

heartbeats stopping

all

fall

down

 

Bewitched.

What a pretty little witch…

Sugar&Blood

Amber from Tastes Like Battle Chicken always writes the nicest things, and this month’s request is for our Halloween costumes.

Bewitched was one of my favorites, in late color and in reruns, as a kiddo. Samantha Stevens is probably my first experience with what you kids call today “fangirl-ness.” As much as I practiced for hours to wiggle my nose and make things happen, alas, all the magic lie in the 1970s avocado kitchen appliances and suburban sorcery.

So, every year, I think of Mataoka as my personal dress-up Samantha Stevens. Hey, it’s never too late to have a happy childhood, right? (Even though mine was pretty awesome.)

Here are some shots of Miss Matty, Mrs. Whitworth, in a variety of situations where sorcery was called for:

On a side note, I realize you think picture books are for small children, and although that is true, I firmly believe in…

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The Pavlova Incident*: Oceanic Offensive

Let's go to the Oceanic Servers! Hooray!
Let’s go to the Oceanic Servers! Hooray!

It’s 11:36PM, 29 October in Sydney, Australia right now. In Christchurch, NZ, it’s 1:30AM, Thursday, 30 October. That means our friends in the Pacific are enjoying their new servers, reduction in latency has got to be amazing, and not worrying about the rest of the world literally and figuratively lagging behind must be refreshing. I’m sure Cymre and Navimie are thrilled to pieces. However, being an amateur anthropologist of cultures and societies, I must caution my friends in Aus/NZ to play nice.

Yes. I mean it. Don’t make me come down there and separate you two.

If I’ve learned anything about human nature, including my lifetime spent under the “better half” of the North American US/Canadian continent (Canada is the better half: duh!), it’s that even the simplest of rivalries can get out of control.

Because, you know, it’s not all shrimps-on-the-barbie-sheep-romancing-kiwis-ferocious-crocodile-eating-spiders-Hobbit-kissing-hole-dwelling-Peter Jackson-worshipping-beer-drinking-sheila-calling fun, after all.

And by sheep romancing, there usually aren’t candles involved. 

When I looked up "sophisticated Australian" this is what popped up. You can blame Google on that.
When I looked up “sophisticated Australian” this is what popped up. You can blame Google on that.

Consider, Australia is a dangerous place. Its flora and fauna always ranks the deadliest in the world. Considered savage and rough, some believe Aussies lack sophistication; however, they do have Australian Screen Legends, and of course, Nemo.

But it’s mostly this:

Thank you, no, I've already had my flying fox serving for today.
Thank you, no, I’ve already had my flying fox serving for today.

When you look up animals for New Zealand, you get this:

FUNZ
FUNZ

I suppose we Yanks can liken it to our relationship with Canada. Everyone knows Canadians are nicer, better, cleaner, better educated, and dude, they have Royal Mounted Police. ROYAL POLICE.

Just wanted a pretense to have a Brendan Fraser image in this post. Carry on.
Just wanted a pretense to have a Brendan Fraser image in this post. Carry on.

Now this being said, and you’re all better now that you know about the Aus/NZ potential for world domination if they mind their manners, eat their vegemite sandwiches (or paintings), share their fish-and-chips and whitebait, hangi and witchery grubs. And pass the Pavlova.

Will someone please get that woman some oil paints?
Will someone please get that woman some oil paints?

*Pavlova refers to a desert. Chalk one up to NZ! And I’m pretty sure Australia can keep Russell Crowe.

And to the untrained ear, the Australian versus the New Zealand accents can be muddy, but there are some nuances (this video is sooooo boring)

Now this is all in fun and jest. I know most of the world compartmentalizes us Yanks in three basic dialect types: Cowboy, Clueless, and the Hood:

And balls-fly-at-your-nose:

But when all is said and done, New Zealand, maybe you can give Australia the Pavlova thing. I mean, after all, they have to deal with this:

Cause after all, ain’t nobody got time for that.

life is too short

 

RTMT: Monsters and Demons

Eredar Warlock
Eredar Warlock

Today’s Random Tuesday Morning Thought is brought to you courtesy of the Burning Legion: “Because When You Need Your World Destroyed, We Do-om It Better!”

Are Draenei demons? Well, perhaps. 

The Eredar are a species of supremely talented magic-wielders who arose on the planet Argus countless millennia ago. They built a vast civilization of wondrous cities and upheld a peaceful way of life. Twenty-five thousand years ago, however, the tranquility of Argus was shattered, and the Eredar separated into two groups: the Draenei and the Man’ari.

The Man’ari are the demon-corrupted Eredar who now lead the Burning Legion, but they are commonly referred to as the Eredar regardless. This could be due to the fact that, other than the Draenei and Man’ari, there is no evidence of other species of Eredar left in existence. These Eredar are the first among the demons of the Burning Legion.

But I am still trying to figure out how some races get to be warlocks, and others don’t. And, the issue of skin tone comes up too:

The simple answer is no.

When the Draenei broke away from mainstream Eredar society, it was just before Sergeras transformed them into demons. As a result, modern Draenei never were demons.

As for the Draenei’s proper skin color, it’s assumed to be blue since the they are biologically closer to the original Eredar then modern Eredar are. I’d have to go over the Prologue to Rise of the Horde (which takes place on Argus when Sergeras contacts the Eredar) again to see if it’s ever mentioned as such.

So just what is the deal with skin tone? And why does it even matter? Perhaps racial features defined ancestral lines. This reminded me of Irish dialects, how one little country can produce so many nuances to “one” language. How one speaks is indicative of region. I’m still feeling guilty about changing Mataoka’s skin from husky brown to blue. Reminded me of a Drunk History episode (San Francisco) about Mary Ellen Pleasant who “passed” for white, and this freed her to run in the highest echelons of society and wealth. This worries me: do Draenei support or conform to a caste system? Hmmm….if I open that ancestral vault for Mataoka, what skeletons with horns will I find?

I'll do some further investigation...
I’ll do some further investigation…to the reference desk! Away!

In any event, the electric company wrote me and said revenues were down, so I thought I would help them out:

<p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/100371988″>Brent Sims’ Grave Shivers</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/simsfilms”>Sims Films</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

<p><a href=”http://vimeo.com/82920243″>Lights Out – Who’s There Film Challenge (2013)</a> from <a href=”http://vimeo.com/dauid”>David F. Sandberg</a> on <a href=”https://vimeo.com”>Vimeo</a&gt;.</p>

Just walk away, Renee.

before

Oh my sweet baby murlocs.

I completely understand, Renee.renee

Stupid, stupid media! Never understanding when a female ages, pic apart every single pore or alteration. This scrutiny is never casted on male actors, oh no! But the other day when I was still trying to tweak Mataoka’s face, my friend Señor told her she looked tired.

Tired? 

Better?
Better?

Mataoka has always had the deep lavender/brown skin tone. I succumbed to the dark forces that is skin tone change, and made her blue. You have no idea how conflicted that made me.

Dammit, Blizzard, I really hate this. Going under the knife and changing her skin, that’s fairly extreme. Maybe I can get Russell Brand after Blizzard to fix human females and female Draenei. That run, for Velen’s sake, that run is an abomination!

how I feel

pass the popcorn…

CD Rogue and I love movies. We were looking for something different for our October gorging of spooks, frights, and haunts, and came across this New Zealand gem:

The anti-heroine is truly refreshing, and one other thing–it passed the Bechdel Test with flying colors:

The Bechdel Test, sometimes called the Mo Movie Measure or Bechdel Rule is a simple test which names the following three criteria: (1) it has to have at least two women in it, who (2) who talk to each other, about (3) something besides a man. 

It was also nice to watch something where we knew none of the actors–sometimes the personae gets in the way of the story. Now of course that is my Hollywood-centric perspective talking: I’m sure in Aus/NZ those actors are very well known.

Check it out when you can!