if you left it up to me, every day would be a holiday from real

( College. )

( Private. )

The Spring waned months ago, the summer was delightfully sunny and lazy but as the fall moved into full swing weeks ago, I find myself even more lethargic than I was during the summer months. It is mild still, just a slight cooling of my mind and body as my plants ready themselves for the coming frost, for the ravages of winter. They will lie dormant, most of them, and thus, my sleep will lengthen and it will be difficult to rouse myself every morning. It is a cycle that is experienced every year but I will never be fully adjusted to the winters of this northern land. After all, I was birthed at Apheca, in a much warmer climate.

Still, this season is not the harbringer of solely negative change; there is a celebration to attend rather soon. Although a chemist's construction will never be worthy of one of my plants. My gift still needs some work but I am sure it will be finished in time.

And on another note, I had an odd dream last night. Just piercing blue eyes and the throbbing of repetitive bass, like at a party. Very unsettling.

It has been quite some time since I have made a hunting net for anyone other than myself. In fact, I believe I have only done it once, before the boar, although my memory of the old days can wax and wane at times. But the motions are the same, my fingers remember the method like it was just yesterday I was weaving the old one for Beroe. Strong, sturdy, worthy of such a sweet huntress, and this one will be no different.

( Beroe. )

( Aphrodite. )

I've been so lazy recently. I've been neglecting the flowers, neglecting my dog, neglecting the hunt. I think I will hunt for a few days; find myself a beautiful forest and get lost in between the trees for a time until my head is clear. The pain has gone down to a dull throb but there's still something wrong and it can't be the contract, it just- Do any of my fellow nature deities wish to accompany me? This city is far too loud, far too infested with steel and it would be good to spend time with like-minded individuals.

( College. )

Maybe this will work. Then again, I doubt it.

I never knew him, the father who was also my grandfather, the Syrian King. I don't even know his name. Cinyras, perhaps. Hesiod said Phoenix. I use Theias simply because, well, how can I remember the name of someone I never knew? Especially when my origins are so confused, so complex that I'm not even sure which country I'm originally from. Some days I think I remember the sound of the Apheca waterfall as I lay dying, some days I cannot. Some days I remember our temple there, the way it looked, vaguely, the way stone felt beneath my feet and the murmurs of the worshipers of my mystery cult, my secretive followers, my beloved ones who kept our rites a secret, the way all religious rites should be. A personal connection, between man and god, not meant for outsiders or interlopers or intruders and that is what is wrong with religion today, with christianity for if the whole world can watch you worship, if you worship in front of hundreds, how can you ever have a personal connection? A private connection?

But I digress.

Although my father-grandfather chased my mother upon learning of the trickery that led him to lay with her, although she had to call up to the gods for help, although they had 'mercy' on her and turned her into a beautiful myrrh tree only to birth me months later, although he set her lifelessness in motion... Theias was not a bad man. He was, as I once was, a mortal toy of the gods. He was a pawn, nothing more and nothing less. He was an amusement, as was my mother, his daughter, as was their son. I cannot fault him for his anger, for his disgust, for the need within him to chase her down and kill her for the depraved and yet beautiful act they committed. I cannot fault him for what happened after, her death, my birth, my enslavement, my captivity and the havoc it all wrecked upon my psyche. I simply cannot.

I can only dream that, if the King were alive, that he could let the disgust bleed away, that he would see the issue of his depravity as a son, as the rightful, true-blooded prince of Syria. That he would hide the horror, the repulsion and merely kiss me on the forehead and call me 'son'.

On this day, this day that is merely an excuse for mortals to go out and buy expensive cards and presents, I think of him despite my best efforts not to and hope, wherever he ended up, that he does not feel pain or anger or disgust any longer. Theias, King, your son, the prince... he does not blame you. He blames the ones who made you their plaything.

Go here and reload until you get five quotes that sum up your philosophy or outlook, then post them.

Nothing is stronger than habit.
Ovid (43 BC - 17 AD), Ars Amatoria

I don't trust him. We're friends.
Bertolt Brecht (1898 - 1956)

The absence of flaw in beauty is itself a flaw.
Havelock Ellis (1859 - 1939), Impressions and Comments (1914)

Seeing death as the end of life is like seeing the horizon as the end of the ocean.
David Searls

Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.
Oscar Wilde

A party? Hell yes. Maybe it'll make the headache go away.

( College. )

Why has this pounding, throbbing, beating, hurting hell of a headache lasted for three days now? I mean, I'm a really good actor and College hasn't noticed anything but fuck. It hurts.

I'm not sure if I have time for Theias anymore but I'm loathe to just give him away. Perhaps a temporary kennel while things calm down but he... he's a hunting dog. He can't be cooped up inside a kennel or an apartment. It is not the old days, the days of living in the forest and surviving off the land but that is the sort of dog he is.

I'll think about it.

( Heroin. )

There's something wrong with the contract. I'm fighting it too easily and I don't want- My head hurts. Really, really bad headache. Mar, feed me drugs?

( College. )

( Marijuana. )

( Typed up in private; deleted in disgust. )

( Private. )

Why is everyone having a fit over little old me? It's flattering, all of you, all of you who want to own me or take care of me or fight for me. Or, hell, even the ones who want me away from College for your own selfish means. I'd like to thank you all for caring, for thinking of me, for being so devoted, for sending my power levels through the roof, but it's really, really not necessary. Don't you understand? I've been fighting my various aspects, they're constantly at war; the desire for freedom and the desire to be bound but now? Now, one of them won, I am settled and happy and in love and chained again. This is the way it was meant to be. I am a possession, I am the beloved property, I am the beautiful doll and this is right.

Marijuana, stop texting me. You've got enough on your plate and, no, I won't do what you want me to do. Glibt, calm the fuck down. Everyone, leave us in peace to enjoy each other.

Hey, Nihilism! How you feeling, man?

( Private. )

I dreamed last night; not of lovers in throes of ecstasy, not of sinking a knife deep into the heart of a stag, not of being made incomplete by the boar; not of brown curls or dark eyes but...

Boxes and bindings and traps and ropes and decrees and chains.

I woke up cold.

Something is different. Something is changing.

I will be bound again, won't I?

I want it so bad that it hurts.

[blocked against College]
So that explains what I felt Wednesday night. Interesting but it's already been fixed. Been playing this game far too long.
[/blocked against College]

Mar, what's wrong? You've been tense all day. I can practically feel your arousal every time you think about someone other than Heroin. Damn, I love being a virility god. Now... you're too far away from me but there's something else. I'm not strong enough to heighten the connection, but if you let me in deeper... I can help. Blanket it with earth or something else. In any case, I'm coming over tomorrow. Need meth and blow and x. Five hours of straight Ancient Greek persuasion leaves me way too drained. Drained out one of my old bank accounts, man, not looking for a freebie.

Oh, and College! Want to go to a party with me on Friday? Lots of Greeks, lots of booze, lots of fun. If you behave.

Summer approaches, the time of the Adonia. I wish I could remember a specific date but I remember the festival. I never attended of course, it was closed to women but I disguised myself as one to walk among my mourners but I listened to their laments from afar, connected to the rooftop plants, connected to each of them as their wails brought back the murky almost-memory of the wails of the past. I haven't been planning at all for the remergence of my Adonia but I should. By the end of June, then. A party, a celebration, as reminiscent of the old parties as anything can possibly hope to achieve these days.

College, do you remember that present I mentioned? It'll be ready in a week, so I'm told. Do you want to go to the beach again soon? I grew fond of my darker look, of brown skin and changing my eyes to match. In any case, BEACH? I bet you haven't even spoken to Zeus yet. What more do I have to do to keep you hooked?

( Grace. )

( College. )

In Segal's interpretation, based on the work of Carl Jung, Adonis lives as "a psychological infant, ultimately, as a fetus". He lives under the spell of the Great Mother archetype and can only live through her. His ego is weak and he seeks to remain surrendered to her.

He can put down no roots of his own. He is unable to take on the institutions of work and family which connects one to the community because he is retarded psychologically. He is childlike and a childish puer won't be tied down. He avoids commitment and craves excitement. He is sexually promiscuous because he can never find his fantasy mate. Ultimately he is attached to the archetype of The Great Mother. All women are either manifestations of the mother or unworthy and inferior.

Segal goes on to explain how Adonis speaks of a distinctively Greek society in which the goal of young men was to become active, participating citizens. Adonis is the archetype of what not to become.

Screw you, Segal. Screw you, Jung. Screw you, wikipedia. Retarded? Ha. You couldn't be more wrong about me. I should really stop looking myself up on the internet. Although, searching for 'Adonis' leads to some pretty hot gay porn. Some of which may or may not feature myself. Oh, the 'old' days.

They're right. About everything. Fuck, the Mother archetype. Calls to me. All of them do.

My face. The bastard who is supposed to love me bruised my face.

Theias is rather adorable when worked up into a protective frenzy that he can't do anything about. Had to let him stalk one of the neighbour's cats and I still don't think he's calm enough. Don't think squirrels will be enough to get him out of this mood. Anyone know of any dog fighting rings? He's small, still a puppy, but he's brutal when enraged and I think it would be good for him to get some practice in against somewhat larger animals. He's rather tough.

Damn. I'm out of booze.

Deserved it? Probably. Yeah. Fuck. My face.

Who was I with at Apheca? The books say Astarte. Was that Inanna or... an earlier form of Aphrodite? I can't remember.

If I think about this too much, I'll only get a headache and she just... calls to me.

( College. )

I'm still a lovely golden brown from the beach. I've been tempted to go back to my lily-white, easily bruised look but this just feels right for now. Keeping my eyes hazel too, although I am not even considering touching my hair.

Is that an old friend I feel in town? Oh, darling, do I have some tales for you.

( Grace. )

Central Park just burst into bloom all around me. It is dark, here, where I sleep these days, but it is just so beautiful. I can see them, the life within each one, glowing bright and lighting up an otherwise darkened night, time, mood. I am calmed in a way I have not felt in... days. It is utterly breathtaking.

It was obviously the work of an immortal, but it was not me. Whoever was so generous with their power has brightened the lives of many. May I know who to direct my gratitude toward?

( College. )

( Hades. )

( Marijuana. )

( Urania. )

( Persephone. )

( Psyche. )

( Hecate. )