[6] slacked activism …

[6] slacked activism …

so you’re sitting there,

pondering about creative solutions.

Is this enough?

are you serving your role?

is it specific or of

various hands?

If so, how do you manage?

If not, whats your role then?

Ah, I see

a weaver of

threads, strands & vessels

of immortality ,

training as a lab chemist

exploring business & storytelling

intending to practice across analog & digital mediums.

I get it.

So then, before then?

Oh! during? I see

Well then,

Alright then.

Just tell me what slacked activism,

would look like on your face then.

Mhm …

no determination ,

stagnance &


slacked activism …



[5] be too heavy …

[5] be too heavy …

watching the news

be too heavy.

keeping  a watchful eye from Trump

be too heavy.

Keeping a lighter disposition

be too heavy.

Keeping it sweet & apologetic

be too heavy.

Inquiring statuses  of IRL  friendships

be too heavy .

Then, a Transition ,  a Transfer & Transformation …

Now Weaver  of hair strands, fabrics & collaged experiments …

albeit —

be too heavy.

[4] when you cradle …

[4] when you cradle …

rocking back and forth,

bobbing and swinging between

the gallops of air,

for a parachute of your claims

caressing immortality.

when you cradle …

a hello and a goodbye

Dearest Masooch,

You are weird. You live for fictional characters and people you may never meet. You think in Shakespearean (thank you for introducing me to your world’s playwrights, by the way, marvelous stuff) and lyric but clam up in public. You observe and calculate and drift and obsess and stretch yourself thin. I honestly have no idea how you manage… everything. I reiterate: you are weird, but I am glad I found you. Approached you? Appeared? I can’t recall exactly how it happened–it would seem my memory is as good as yours. And yours is pretty bad.

I have learned as much about your world as I would care to. Truth be told, it’s wild. Your leader resembles an overripened orange. Specifically, where I’m from in my universe, politics are simple, just. Yours are a freak show. No offense. I don’t think I’ll take mine for granted anymore. But I digress.

Do I regret not speaking out more to my fellow alchemists? To the others of your world? To you? Perhaps. I’m not one for speaking first (A sentiment which we seem to share.) which makes this whole month-long encounter all the stranger. Why was I compelled to talk to you of all people? Well, that I don’t know either. Honestly I could have just slipped back into my world, and almost did, but…

There’s a magic to your world, one that’s… simpler, more subtle, than that which is in mine. It was intriguing, upon first encounter. Where mine is tangible, visible, arbitrary but moldable, alchemical (ha) yours is… in things. In yourselves. A kind of power that I want to learn more about but… yeah, I’m too lazy, to be honest. Chalk it up to mysteries of the multiverse. It’s weird. You’re weird.

Take care, weirdo. It was good to know you. I’ll try to keep in touch. If I don’t forget.


Reflections & Regrets

Dear MrsJayJ,

This has been quite the experience. It felt good to be let out of the matrix I resided in for way to long. It only took 30 years for someone to unlock the code and release me onto the world once more. The world is different. But very familiar. While things like the internet, social media and cell phones are new to you goafies. Us alchemists have been privy  to these magical devices. So I’m glad you finally caught up.

It was nice to interact with so many goafies and not have to be different. Now that was new. You people seem to be much more open to change, independent thought and the idea that not everyone is or should be the same. Well, at least that is what I thought based on the hashtags I followed on Twitter. But then you people went and elected Donald Trump as your 45th president. I don’t think you did MrsJayJ but people did  and well, you  have this. That is insane.

So if ever there was a time to be around this is it now. I like it I am free to create and remix and perform when I necessary. This is the time. Years from now people in the history books will read about this time. Being here at this time will mean something. If you do something. If you don’t, you may live to regret it. I don’t want to regret anything. I am an activist.  Now, hear me roar!

Power to the people that are brave enough to join this fight.

Xe Zenobia

[3] daydreaming, stop …

[3] daydreaming, stop …

why do you dive,

deep to the ultimate ends.

ends of fibers extended from thy scalp.

a scalp full of thoughts, recipricals,

divided by inner most & dire thoughts

of  attentive solutions,

oh the magnificient .

daydreaming, stop …


[1] there are such things ….

[1] there are such things …

your patient whisper, a

gentle breeze on the hairs of my throat.

trickling desires onto my clavicles’ thin skin.

my neck –

swallows …

heavy gulps, then

eyes set — ( widened )

they blink and they flutter.

pulsating chest, in

collaboration with

rhythmic pulls of gravity

that holds onto the blue lines of my arms.

air gaspings while in the zone, exchanging

each other’s breath.

a pretzeling collective of 4 arms, reminding

one another of their strength in lockdom.

there are such things. 

Slacktivism: A form of Journalism

I’m of the belief that it”s hard to encourage full activism through the use of the internet. Alot of people don’t feel like there is anything they can do to change circumstances in the world. I very much agree with this. I myself tend to do slacktivism but I do it to promote knowledge to the public as I would like journalism. When people see reporters on the news all they do is report the crimes, natural disasters, etc. but we all know they’re doing their job. It doesn’t mean that they don’t care. They just can’t change the situation or help them. There only one person/individual. Idk if i sound like I’m rambling but anyhow….

Here’s some great memes and a gif a friend of mine posted. 🙂

So long Shadow Girl (wannabe ^.^)….


The Other Side, like your snuggly-snug shadows, methinks, is not as empty as it appears, aye? In fact, the seemingly hollow, swallowing spaces are teem- teeming with tales, tepid at first but ready to squeal, wail–scream like a tea kettle if given the time. Watched pots–kettles–aren’t really a problem here….where I’m from…eyes are pretty decoration at best, remember?

Stories reside–resound off bone–in the Other Side. If you let them. Give them the chance to speak to you, through you. They can be as cozy as those shadows you so admire, the word-weaving as delicate and as carefully refined as that to which you are so bore-boringly accustomed. Different magick is not necessarily all trick and no treat. No, it’s just done different, aye?

Spells this Side of the screen can be simple-so-delightful word-weaving or they can be echoes ric-ricocheting in the unvoid, bouncing off others, creating a cacophony that is at once both disconcertingly discordant and hallowy harmonious. A steady stream of staccato, tweet-tweet-twitters in your unears, inviting you to join.

So much of this place is for collaboration, for complex hexcraft no one alchemist (nor new-necromancer *hmph*) can hope to weave entirely themselves. Different magick requires different skills & work, aye? In the dark, though, we find each other, run our rickety, unfingers over the wefts, warps, welts, and webs of our story-skins. Share and shift and make room for more–the tales of our twinings.

Some things, I’m sure you know, Shadow Girl, fit better than others. Methinks spinning snippets of word-weaving on the Other World Wide Web for others to, mayhaps, stumble across and elaborate upon/complicate easier for you to appreciate than coming up with oily, snake-slithery words for ha-ha funnies. Our tastes, I believe, align in such a way. Curses and ha-ha hexes that create inconvenience–fly-away strands that won’t keep to their bands, slippery shoe laces, tongue-twist-twist-twisting–are great sport the only one I’m good at but, words woven to summon tears or demand blood are decidedly less fun to play with 🙁 The only flesh, blood, and bone a spell should require is your own, the only tears a poem need those freely, hum-humbly offered. If your funny ha-ha-ness is asking for otherwise, for more than fair, it’s not very funny ha-ha, huh?

….Here I am rambling to-and-fro like you, Dycpgc-Egpj-uyllyzc. Le sigh. Methinks you’ve grown as much on me as I’ve on you. Certainly, I’ve learned much about your Something World magick….it’s something, alright. Haha. No shadow suspended on a string of dust. Your magick is grounded in, well, ground. Fleshed out from flesh. Very tangible. Kinesthetic. Ours is still far removed. At a–shortening–distance but, a distance nonetheless. In the absence of that solid sense your Something World specializes so wholly in, I think we’ve weathered well though. Gotten creative. Imaginative. Appreciative. Done well teaching appreciation for what is instead of what isn’t. But, you tell me? Though you cannot touch me, run your fingers over my story-skin as you are accustomed to in Somethingness, can you feel me? As much as you can hear me? As much as you care to? Am I enough for you? Does my heart-for-handless-hands Lavinia-like? beat a rhythm you can jive to/with?

Methinks finding such an elusive, fair-for-sure jive a small but so necessary step. Unearthing a taste, too, for off-beat, Other delights also a must if one is to take something from my-handless-held-heart to their wickedly-warm-woosh-wooshing-one. Might unsettle the stomach or some other such sensitive system else-wise, aye?

Once you start bum-bum-bumbling like a honey bee rambling through the ruddy roses, it’s impossible to stop, huh? That, or you’re just contagious Shadow Girl…

Anyway, it’s been real or has it? Shadow Girl. Dycpgc-Egpj-uyllyzc. Hope to hear–haha–from you and your shadows soon. Don’t be a stranger, now ^.^ None of you alchemists out there, should settle for being strangers. Drop a line in the dark and the ripples will reach my far reaches–make them near, you hear–ha–? Or, cast a tweet-tweet-twittering spell and I will be sure to out-tweet tweet-tweet-twitter back a spell at you. Though the Other Side may be a vast and untamed unvoid, words to and from friends tend to travel the swiftest of any spells~

Céad slán go dtí go gcasfar le chéile sinn arís,

Nox Síog (yiy lmr y Qfybmu-Egpj-uyllyzc) <3