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I love the idea of Futuristic living, or even ultra-or-faux-Futuristic living, as a means of escape from decrepitude and melancholia. Since I was very young, I took in the images with which I was bombarded, via the entertainment world of Science Fiction and Fantasy, and would meld these in my mind to create bully-free utopias, androgyne ashrams, sterile temples to a pantheon of steel demigods and goddesses, playpens for robot friends, amusement parks powered by pneumatic tubes, etc. This, of course, was when I was not in “Halloween” or “Horror” mode. I remember when the film version of Orwell’s 1984 came out in, well, 1984, and how dazzled and chilled I was all at once. On the one hand was the dystopian nightmare of the government having its eyes, ears and noses in and around everything we do (aka, 2011), but on the other hand, there was this Land, this Futurescape, if you will ride along with me as I make up words, that was very sexy, secluded, safe-seeming, even. It was that same cold, sexy comfort I felt when I watched films like Blade Runner, or even the original Tron.

Today, of course, we have government oppression, riots, protests, and unrest, but without all the Futuristic Sexy. Hardly seems fair, does it? But there it is. And don’t get me wrong, things could be much worse. Things are not nearly as bleak, not in America nor in most of Western Europe, as they could be, but that’s certainly nothing to be completely satisfied with. Anyhow, I guess the romantic/ artist/ author/ dreamer in me simply thinks it would just be a sexier time, a dreamier time, a more awesome time in which to live if we did have the flying cars, the wrist phones(okay, we almost have that), the ultra-modern architecture, the (dare I wish for it?) Light Cycles and Hoverboards! Ah well, as the Thompson Twins once bleated, Here’s To Future Days!


Monday Morning

I have some odd 90s type songs stuck in my head. I don’t like that. The 90s was a decade of musical ruin. A travesty. But no matter, we’re in a much better place now, musically, I think. I just wish we had Slick Willy as our President again. Can anyone say “balanced budget” ?… ahhhhhhhhhh, but I digress.

So today is Samhain/ Halloween, which means the greatest time of the Wheel of the Year has started. I use the “Wiccan” term only because I feel it really suits the way I envision the seasons changing, not because I identify as a Wiccan. Not that I shun those who do, it’s just that in my Occult studies, I feel that I’ve learned enough about Wicca to realize it’s sort of like Exoteric Thelema, which is great, but just not my cup of tea. If this paragraph made sense to you, hit me up, please! We’d have a lot to talk about.

My ginger friend Austin was in town for a visit, and to see his current favorite band, CSS. He seems to have had fun, and Richard and I definitely had fun hanging out with him. Yay times.

Anyway, it feels kind of odd, what with like the coolest holiday of the year falling on a Monday, but if you are celebrating tonight, have a great one! And if you’re not, well then…um, don’t? Though I am caffeine buzzed right now, that’s all I have to say right now.

pieces out


Last night, my boyfriend and boyfriend-in-law (I’m one half of a polyamorous couple, that’s another post unto itself), went to the Phobia Haunted House chain out in Northwest Houston. This is a chain I’ve patronized before, back in the ’90s when they were just starting up. They’ve always advertised themselves as somewhat more hardcore and edgy than the rest of the competition in Houston (and there’s a lot; it seems Houston is some kind of Haunted House Haven). And, while not being extremely scary, at least not to me, I have found them to be pretty gory and different. And they’ve got a good thing going. When I visited them in the mid-’90s, they were in a small building, and you could choose from two Haunts. Last night, in their newer digs out in northwest Houston, they are a veritable Haunted House Theme Park, with EIGHT different attractions you can drop your green on. We opted for the “four Haunted Houses” package, which gets you a discount, sort of. Basically, the price scales down the more attractions you partake. For three of us to go through four Haunted Houses, it cost $120. I know, it sounds like a lot, ’cause, well, it is. Still, while not mindblowing, there was some fun to be had. My second-favorite attraction was called Dawn of the Machines, which was a futuristic haunt which relied more on gross imagery, mind****s and things canted at odd angles, rather than anything of the traditional nature. The sound and light design were quite intense and seemed to produce a nice disorienting and creepifying effect, and the actors did a good job staying hidden and scaring at the appropriate times. In short, their timing was good. The best Haunt was probably the “original” Darke Institute. This is the house Phobia founded itself on in the beginning. The basic premise is one that has become a bit careworn, that of the “lunatics taking over the asylum”, and preying on their guests worst phobias… hence the… yeah, you get it. Anyway, it was the longest Haunt, the Haunt with the most creative actors, including a very odd tranny nurse offering me sexual favors… that was a bit odd and unsettling, but that’s what these guys do best. It also featured a section where you went outside onto a metal-grated balcony, and thought the attraction had ended, but it turns out you were only halfway through being traumatized.

All in all, to coin a really annoying phrase, it was a good cardio workout, lots of good blood-pumping, gasp and yelp inspiring scares, and some very creepy imagery.


I hope that however you choose to celebrate Samhain / Halloween this year, you wind up getting yourself a little bit scared, for I feel it is, in small doses, healthy for the body and the mind, and, many would argue, it is only through the imagination inspired by the dark, that we may find the light.

Have a Swell Samhain!


Magician, Get Off Your A**!

There is a time to write, a time to read, a time to think and ruminate, and a time to act.

I’ve heard it said that many people who claim to live willfully, practice magick, or to have accomplished this, that or the other are often just talkers, not doers. I used to be one of these people, not just in my spirituality, but in my everyday life of forever talking about acting, reading about magick, saying how much I wanted to narrate audiobooks, get more voice gigs, do more anime, video games, whatever. The disconnect for most people, I think, is that they think simply wanting all of this stuff will make it happen. That’s actually the secret to The Secret, I do believe. You must bridge that gap between desire, want, etc and actually apply that desire, want, etc. to action. Thus your dreams take flight, and your magick is made.

If you claim to be a magician, get off your but and do an LBRP or a prayer or a conjuration. Then get to work on making what you want to happen, happen. If you’ve done a spell to get a job, you’d be awfully stupid to not go and put in an application at five different places. If you’re an aspiring teacher, and yet you have no degree, you probably should start thinking of ways to enroll in school, etc.

I’m not chiding anybody in particular. In fact, like so many of my blog posts, this is more of a reminder for me to stay on the path of action, and to forever shun the “sin” that is inaction, when it is clear action must be taking place.



Waking up to gray skies, chilled air, wind and drizzle is not most people’s idea of a fantastic morning, but after the summer of 2011 in Texas, it’s almost like a silver heaven. So energizing, refreshing and renewing to experience this kind of weather again. And the poor grass, which has been thirsting mightily, is finally steeped in puddles of water, and can begin some kind of recovery before the harshness of what we call winter fully sets in.

To celebrate the coming Samhain holiday, or Halloween to most of you, I finally bought decorations for our balcony, set out the fog machine, and even made sure we have a huge, full bowl of candy for any potential visitors on Monday night. In addition, I rather impulsively picked up a paperback copy of Stephen King’s “Full Dark, No Stars”. It’s one of his “hey, look at these four nifty little novellas I’ve written… which one will Frank Darabont make into an amazing movie?” titles, so I’m curious to see what lurks between its covers.

Everybody have an amazing, safe rockin’ Halloweekend!

This is like a drain. On my energy source. Coming from ‘who knows where?’ This is depression. This is grey and black and shades of blah. Tinged with sadness. And I don’t even have the energy to analyze why. I just wish it would pass. This is very unlike me. And I’m a bit disgusted with myself. But there it is. The truth. Ugly and naked like an out-of-shape nude swimmer on a beach in winter. The hours pass, books will be read, rituals will be performed, smiles will form across my face. But for now, sadness. Melancholia. The nighttime usually cleanses away such moods. Bring on the late night. Bring on the beautiful, peaceful change that happens when the stars shine and the purple-black of the sky floats above the world like a blanket of bliss.

1. Go to Berry Hill

2. Order beans and rice (complete protein, and vegan)

3. Order frozen margarita with salt

proceed to get sated and tipsy!

thank you

It was at the age of 28 that I started to do voiceovers in a niche subgenre called “Anime”. I never thought that this particular seemingly odd little part of my career would be what eventually lead me to doing full time voiceovers, but I suppose stranger things have happened.

Funny thing is, since the age of 28, I’ve tended to mainly voice “pretty boys” from about ages 17-20, usually heroes, romantic leads, or some type of unusually good-looking villain. Well, now that the whole anime train seems to have picked up steam in Houston again, I’m back to doing just that, except I’m 40. Yeah, 40. Just today, I was working on a show where I played an inhumanly attractive 18 year old. Last week, I was voicing the lead, a 17-year old, in a show called … oh, well, maybe I shouldn’t say… The week before that I was voicing a very youngish looking vampire in another show… And the weirdest part… my voice hasn’t changed all that much. I mean, yeah my acting chops have increased, I know much-better how to handle a microphone, character development, arc, etc… but my voice, when I want it to, still tends to sound really young. It’s almost surreal sometimes, to be honest. Ah well, I always only half-joked that I’d probably be voicing 17-year olds into my 40s… and, um, here I am. ;-).

Viva work!!!

On top of the five books I’m now reading, two more books have just bleeped onto my radar as definite “must haves”:

Harukai Murakami’s 1Q84

and Stephen King’s 11/22/63

Two of my favorite fiction authors, going at it big time, bombastic, and ultra-wordy! This, for me, equals late-fall, holiday love, literary style. If you’ve never read Murakami, this probably won’t be the book to start with. As a primer, I’d probably recommend the short story collection, After the Quake.

If you’ve never read Stephen King, or have reservations about reading more of him, well, you’ve probable already made up your mind about how you feel about his work. Though I have to say that if your only exposure to him is a tome or two from his middle career, you might want to give this new one a shot. The guy gets better and better, if a little less scary, the older he gets, in my opinion. Nothing will ever compare to The Shining, or ‘Salem’s Lot for that matter, but some of his latter, sprawling works have stood their own ground, in a sort of nouveau horror genre that King seems to have created all for himself. It’s some kinda of odd cross of Poe, Dickens, Twain, Lovecraft and, well, King rolled into one.

Here’s to the words that keep us reading into the wee hours of the morning! May they always do their job.

It is so very simple to focus on that which depresses us, that which lets us down and angers us. It is as if focusing on these things gives us some sort adolescent permission to neglect our duties, our responsibilities, our Wills. But truly, it is only the pursuit of that which is righteous, that which is progress, that which is our Will, that will raise us out of any pit of despair into which we’ve fallen. To wallow, weep and wonder why is easy. To rise above, that is noble, high and in some ways holy. Whatever that means to you. I know my definitions of things do not always match those of others. Such is the way of subjectivity. But give me that, please, any day, over “objectivity”, that pretender, that faux friend, that enemy in the shadows, waiting to spring like a spry specter.

I spent nearly the entirety of my 20s engaging in exactly this sort of behavior, and it got me next-t0 nowhere. It’s some kind of miracle that I even managed to stay employed or befriended during this very distasteful period of my life. My 30s, of course, were an improvement, but still yielded not quite the fruit I sought. Again, I flitted about, spending too much time and energy on those things that bring not progress, but poverty, of the pocketbook and soul.

It would not be, in fact, until my late-30s that I would discover Will, as if it hadn’t been knocking at my door, tapping me on the shoulder all along, but I had not the ears with which to listen, they were muffled with vapidity, fear and laziness. These have been some of my greatest sins, if one is to adhere to such a noun, and for them I ask for forgiveness of the Universe and all the Sages who tried to prompt me along the way. Of course, the best way to truly atone for such transgressions is to get off of one’s proverbial duff and actually be proactive, busy, Willful. Here’s to it.

93, 93/93

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