deific and ascendent

Back in the day, when the Writers Club on America Online ruled the earth (or so it seemed, I was daily mixing with people off the New York Times Best Seller List or genre authors of remarkable talent and following) and Wired Magazine had declared the Cafe in the Writers Club as the best place on the internet for cybersex, I was a god, or at least played one on the internet.

Going back to some of the people I knew then for their contributions to "The Complete Panther Cycles" has been a buzz, and reminded me of what I used to answer when asked in chat "How are you?"...

"Deific and ascendent" was always my answer. Translated: Godlike and getting stronger every minute.

Somewhere, the god (small "g") slipped into the shadows. Or, more like, the shadows took me. The brutal terms of my first divorce, which I engineered for the most part in a Quixotic attempt to do the right thing all around, did not derail my following...it followed me to Los Angeles.

But after my second marriage, the Prince of Love, the Poet Knight, the Romantic Poet of the Internet (have I every really thanked you guys and gals at Yahoo for giving me that sobriquet back in 1996? I will.)...I got distracted (something Ani DiFranco said at one point when love songs seemed to be drowning out her politically-charged rhetoric) and gladly gave myself over to something I believed in (even if I was the only one...the number of friends and family who walked (or were pushed) away over issues in my second marriage is staggering. More than a year after the separation, six months after the divorce, I am still sweeping up bodies, and some bonds will not be reforged.)

So, I am back. The dryad of "Love Gods of the Forgotten Religon" is gone (do you think I chose that cover at random? Stephanie Fenter gave me a perfectly appropriate and subtly multi-layered allegory with that picture. Thanks Steph, love ya.) And I am, to quote myself "one with the clouds" again.

Listening to the awe the cycles inspire in Tag. Hearing Brigit reminisce about the effect reading those works for the first time had on her (largely involving shedding of clothes, as I recall with great happiness) and talking with Barbara Holmes, TwisterB of the Writers Club, who has just joined the chorus writing pieces for the collection...hearing her talk about the phenomenon they were in that cynical sphere of real writers (and a few horny wannabes). It is humbling, believe it or not, as I am not the man who writes these works, they inhabit me...it is a talent, a gift, a curse that I did not earn or yearn for. It does not make me a better person to be "the dragon" whose fiery breath is amotations and eloquences, it is merely a confession of who and what I am.

Evolution is a fact, but I am the result of intelligent design of a Higher Power, even if that Higher Power must certainly have one hell of a mean sense of humour to give me this weapon.

And, again, I am on the path. Deific and ascendent. And this time, resolute.