This story begins with a storm.

The nightmare.
Of one I can't seem to form the words
to speak
the horror


Your first vision
is of A priest , by the water
the nets cold grey eyes
And then.
The eye of the storm.
I can feel
it
coming.

It is
in the
wind. It is
in us. You.
And I. We are.
Were. Am.

Was.
Loved.
To be in Love.
We were in love.
Beautiful
love. It fades now
through tears that begin to
lash the sides of the buildings like submachine
gunfire out on a lazy tiled afternoon In my memory
I am walking towards your home In my memory I worship the ground
simply because the ground bore you
You know me. I'm the one who wrote. The. Letter.

The Very. Specific. Valentine.

This storm comes to kill
this storm comes to destroy

and you and I alone Are Riders
You
Lithe Alive Me Wise Strong
And ride as only
a strong
ketch
triple reef

The Storm Siren Dread Camille Teresa Nylce-Prada
The Storm Siren Nylce
The S.S. Nylce

lightning bolt
against oblivion
tending toward
the blue
bringing you to your knee

when there's a fair wind
blowin' warm out of the south upon my shoulder


the tolling of the bell
the sheer beauty of
the siren's spell.

the most beautiful thing in your dreams
each step, everywhere you to

The earth and sky, and storm
each step you made upon the world

I'll heal you.
You've healed me.
Storm sent beauty.



I name you.


Nylce

Comments

Laura Palmer said…
Does your communication embargo have an expiration date?

I’m trying not to listen to all the awful, but fuck, what else is there? The occasional bright spots feel like the brief stationary loading/unloading periods of a rickety & poorly maintained rollercoaster.

Why doesn’t anyone care that human artistic expression is disappearing from our visual environment? Right now AI is mechanically separating human artists from the right to an audience & opportunity, yet nobody seems to give a fuck. Nobody cares about artists getting existentially fucked out of existence. They don’t care about what happens to human artists, but they like not having to pay one, even while the AI itself is trained on copyrighted artwork of human artists without their consent or knowledge. The fact that U.S. society at large doesn’t care about this part of AI is depressing. I’m seeing op-eds be mostly excited about visual generative AI, while AI-vomit-images are replacing photo images/memes/art/etc in newer content being posted on the internet.

https://disconnect.blog/how-artists-are-fighting-generative-ai/

That alone is enough to make me want to die but the terrifying rise of misogynistic fascism becoming law in our society is also gutting.

Alabama. Atwood’s Gilead.

In the world of education & access to information, Georgia state legislators have passed some ugliness to the house that is pretty dark, because they want to pretend gay & transgender people don’t exist. No sense of tolerance for any other view of human existence other than their ignorant, insanely narrow views.

https://www.npr.org/2024/03/01/1234226098/in-georgia-a-bill-to-cut-all-ties-with-the-american-library-association-is-advan

Cobb & Marietta have scrubbed their school libraries of any LGBTQ-representing material, dozens & dozens, many award winners.

I was finally offered a job as a receptionist at a physical therapy office owned by a big healthcare corporation. I was tentatively hopeful I’d found a place to work where I’d feel safe & able to help people in some way, if not like before. I’m finding it hard to leave the house recently, even if I have something I want to do, and I feel myself falling. The physical therapy he process was taking forever- I spent months working on getting that job offer. But, unbelievably, they required a urine drug test for a $14-$16/hour front desk job at a local physical therapy clinic- a 50 year old librarian with a clean background. I went ahead and emailed their HR and told them cannabis would be on it because I have treatment-resistant anxiety and depression, and if that disqualified me, I’d withdraw my application. If you’re laughing at me, fuck off & die. They still made me do the drug screen + the usual background check & glowing references, etc. And they rescinded their miserable $16 job they didn’t trust me to do anymore. Insulting & inhumane policy.

I’m about to have to break up with a good man I’ve been seeing for about 3 months, even though he’s one of the (maybe) two kind & thoughtful men I’ve had the opportunity to date so far, as opposed to the assortment of dickbags the other post-divorce men were- after you’d finished with me. This guy just doesn’t know to fuck me in any way close to satisfying; would you believe that three separate times he’s ineptly managed to cut me inside with his hands, and I bled, and it hurt (this was vanilla, btw). I cannot even. If you only knew some of the sad fumbling, the total lack of any skill, that these men have put me through. Of course the one guy that’s been able to actually pleasurably fuck me turned out to be a POS, even though he’d seemed really nice.

Currently my depression at all of this- not only each horror, but the scope of it all- is trying to strangle me.

People tell me I’m so strong.

LOL

Pffff

Strong enough to stay alive and go through more of this?

-tears-

I wish you’d thought enough of me to talk to me in real life like a human being
Laura Palmer said…

With Turk-182 (which I distinctly remember from the landscape of early80s pay movie channel lineups)…were you telling me that you’d been trying to impress me?


Am I warm?



Are you really there?



Laura Palmer said…
So you’re Not There is what I’m getting. You’re not listening to me at all anymore anyway. Got it-