Archive for July, 2009

One Step Over the Line

Posted in beer, blog, computer, life, technology with tags , , , , , , , on July 26, 2009 by tymora42

I talked about bringing a book to the bar. That was okay. Enjoyable, even. Non threatening. Antisocial? Yes. But not over the top. Now, I am sitting in Bayfield’s Steamworks Brewery with a computer. Too much? Yes. Why? Because there are no coffee shops open after 2pm on a Saturday and this is where I came instead of Durango. A couple friends are driving up from Houston with my canoe. I came into town early to meet up with them and bring them the rest of the way home. What was I supposed to do while waiting? Well, I figured, I will just bring my computer to finish tapping out the 3rd part  to the Daudi Travels series. They have a really nice place in town called the Mill Street Brew, coffee brew not beer. They serve beer also, but it is safe for the electronics because they serve a nice hot cup of java too. Not today, though. They close early on the weekends. They close early every night except Thursday and Tuesday.

The good news is that it is pouring down rain. That will fill up the rivers.

New Daudi Rainmaker Story!

Posted in blog, faeries, family, fantasy, fiction, rainmaker, religion, spirituality, trickster with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 25, 2009 by tymora42

I just posted a new Daudi Rainmaker story – Through the Desert. It is part 2 of a multi-part set. Over the Mountain is part 1. There is also a stand alone short introduction to the character called – beloved trickster. I am still trying to catch up on posting all of my past stories here, so you do not get a neat header and all that yet. For some reason I like to keep that stuff in order.

But I thought you might like to know.

Plus, a photo review of Cameron Grant.

Saying I Love You

Posted in essay, life, love, photography, review with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 24, 2009 by tymora42
Saying I Love You - story by tyson moore - image by Ryan Davis

Saying I Love You - story by tyson moore - image by Ryan Davis

a prose form short story essay about the relationship jaded society expressing love in the post modern world by tyson moore.


a photo review of Ryan Davis, a vulgar sense of the sensitive making Hallmark cards for the disenfranchised, creator of the original image “I Heart You” manipulated for the header and featured below.

I am a member of the modern socially disaffected who has difficulty with traditional folkways that long ago lost their meaning. Among those that I question in the department of commitment are marriage, career, and saying “I Love You”. We no longer expect our marriages to last forever, which is obvious by our divorce rate. If we do, then we are as delusional as the burgeoning twenty something thinking they will keep the same job until they retire or the college graduate hoping for a future with a Philosophy degree. Recently, I have come into skepticism of my skepticism about saying “I Love You”.

read more of the story -or- read photo review of Ryan Davis

photography by Ryan Davis

photography by Ryan Davis

Zombie Jesus Health Care Reform

Posted in blog, dream, life, religion, spirituality with tags , , , , on July 23, 2009 by tymora42

I had a dream last night that Jesus rose from the dead again to heal a bunch of people. When He touched their heads to offer Salvation, their clothes spontaneously disappeared and they fell on the ground in worshipful bliss. The adults did. When he touched the heads of children, they just became starry eyed and remained fully clothed. I watched limbs grow back from the lame, scarred and wrinkled faces smooth, blind eyes see. I started to think how great it would be if Jesus fixed my missing tooth. I wondered if that was why all these people were worshipping him, because he could fix them up. Was their faith self serving or altruistic?

When Jesus took a dead man’s hand with a kiss, causing the deceased (I do not know how I knew he was deceased, it was dream logic) to rise, I said a little louder than I expected, “I knew it. Jesus is a Zombie!” He heard me from across the room. I thought he would be pissed. He walked over and put his hand on my head. My tooth grew back, but my clothes were still there, too. He smiled at me and handed me a note. Jesus has terrible penmanship. You would think it would be ornate. It was nearly legible chicken scratch. It said something to the affects of, “You are healed for now, however, the date of your salvation like these children has not yet been set. It will come, but the date is up to you. – JC”

I don’t really know if he signed his letter JC or not. If I was Him, I would. Everyone who was healed was baffled that I got to keep my clothes on. They did not think I was really healed. This was fine by me. I did not have to participate in their stupid group prayers and candle vigils. Only the children understood. That stuff was pretty boring to them too. We winked at each other and went about our own un-predestined life.

I think Jesus admired that in us. After all His whole existence was set in stone to be hung on a cross from the time he was born, according to the lore. How is that for destiny without choice? Some say He did have a choice. Martin Scorcese got into a little controversy saying he had a choice with The Last Temptation of Christ. Honestly, though, that movie said he was tempted. Christians hate that. It makes Jesus seem too human, but isn’t that the point. He was human. He was tempted. So are you. God sent this man to show us how we could live a better life as humans. Did he have a choice, though?

Not really.

Neither did all those other people greedy for Health Care. They were willing to parade around naked, pretending to worship, overlooking reason for blind faith. Neither me or the children were willing to sacrifice those very things that makes us sentient beings for immediate gratification. This is why I think Jesus admired us. He wrote me a note. Did you get a note? No? I didn’t think so.

A Book to the Bar

Posted in beer, blog, books, faeries, review on July 23, 2009 by tymora42

You would think bringing a book to the bar might be a social deterrent. It is. Sort of. In a way. In another way it makes people curious. In a town with not many friends to speak of much less any friends or people I know at all it can be quite enjoyable. I sit. I read. i drink my beer. I like beer. If I were to sit there alone without the company of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell, I might have left after the first round of Alaskan Amber out of sheer boredom. It was a young crowd. My favorite recent bar to sit at and read is far away in Boulder, but only walking (or stumbling) distance from my old apartment.

Tonight was as strange as always when I take my words for company. A girl asked me what I was reading. She had read it. She was surprised that anyone else would have ever read the same book as her much less be reading it in a bar. In college I would take my philosophers to the bar with me to study. Sometimes it is easier to understand them that way, hence the Monty Python song. It gave me the joy of reading and drinking. She started talking about SciFi, which this book is most certainly not. It is hard fantasy with a historical bend toward England in the 19th century. Not epic, though. I do not care much for epic fantasy. The next to approach was a guy named Mark, who does Wilderness Programs for teens. He was my favorite so far. He asked me to read to him. I did. Then, a girl named JoJo, who had very sparkling eyes sat with us. She was a Teen Outreach Nutritionist from what I gathered. Mark took a turn reading. I was close to the end, making it hard for them to truly understand. I gave the Cliff Notes as he went. That is a faerie talking. He was the one who killed the wife. Stephen is like a concubine except without the sex. Uh huh, a male faerie. People forget that faeries can take on the form of both men and women.

The drawback to a book in the bar is that Mark left the bar with JoJo. I left it with my book. Do I regret this? Hell no. I got through 3 chapters and 3 beers enjoying Suzanne Clarke’s conversation about these two odd magicians.

The Opal Deception

Posted in blog, religion, spirituality, Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , on July 21, 2009 by tymora42

I spoke with a jewelry seller at one of those southwestern mall shops today. They had fabulous rings made from cut glass and opals. It was difficult to consider the semi precious speckled stones garnering the sides of the shapely ring were real. The metalwork was a twisted silver beauty, but the finely cut glass to resemble diamonds threw me because of its placement so close to the opals. I would even go so far as to say the colored and sliced glass jewels (purples, reds, greens, etc) stood out in aesthetic much finer than the actual gemstones placed along the sides. It was the uglier type of opal anyway. The kind that has too many miniature rainbows cluttering too small of a space.

The sales lady talked about a broad range of new age christianity with me. She could tell i was interested. I always am. We discussed Gnostics and the Enochian Keys and the plight of Anton LaVey with intellectual satanism, as opposed to christian satanism. The difference being that the former believes in God and directly refutes his goodness, which is typical among rebellious teens. The other are predominately atheistic and use the story of the tree of knowledge as an iconic pursuit of life. Usually, they do not mind who gets hurt in the name of that power.

The babies of the Renaissance, who look more like diminutive old men than children, were intoned with equal passion during the discourse. We decided that life and death are intwined. Where one source says the Enochian Keys could open the gates to Hell, another might say it opens that of the netherworld, a place being neither Heaven nor Hell. I say the passage of life and death are closest when we are born and when we are old. This is why the babies look like that. They represent the two embodiments of corporeal form nearest the transition of worlds.

Like all who are passionate about their spiritual quest, she ventured to find out more about her conversation partner, which happened to be me. She was hesitant when she asked, not knowing exactly the right words to phrase the question. I have been asked this very thing by so many diverse beliefs that I have nailed down a pattern to their own general belief system based upon their approach. Agnostic Semitics ask if you believe in God. Christians ask if you believe in Jesus. Ritualists ask what you practice. New Age Spiritualists ask about your Journey. Eastern religions do not typically ask. I told her what I tell everyone, I believe in faeries.

Strangely enough, the questions got more personal. Do I talk to them? Yes, we play often. Am I psychic? Not necessarily, but I have been considered “in tune” by my psychic friends. They say I have a secret gift that I hide. There, the secret is out. I told her. I might as well tell you too. She had a way of putting me off guard and making me reveal myself readily. It was refreshing. Normally I am the one in her shoes doing the off putting to their guard. Not very often does someone do it to me. I liked it. It makes you think. It forces you to consider. With those considerations we come to decisions until the next time a consideration is made.

Thank you jewelry shop lady even if your opals did suck.

Houston Death Scene

Posted in death, faeries, houston, life, story with tags , , , , , , , , , , on July 19, 2009 by tymora42

Houston Death Scene | short story | modern fantasy realism

Houston Death Scene | short story | modern fantasy realism

A short story about a near death hit and run in the southern metropolitan museum district. There we meet faeries and an angel to teach him a lesson about life and living.

I almost died. Maybe I did. Maybe I am walking in a parallel world where the car missed. Maybe this is the mystery of the afterlife, a world where you keep on living. Is that heaven or hell?

In Houston we crossed the street of the Contemporary Art Museum to the Fine Arts. An old friend worked there. We would find out later that he had already left for the day. I was with my best friend, a girl, and this guy from Massachusetts. Two others from Salem, the town of Hawthorne, were in our group as well, but they were laid up in a hotel suffering from heat exhaustion. This was only the beginning months of the southland’s brutal summer. Another good friend called to make sure I would be at the Last Concert Café to meet him in a few hours. Since I was only in town for a short amount of time, three days, it was important that I made things happen quick and with efficiency. I was on the phone with him as I crossed the street.

click here to view the full story on a stylized page