Morning. I peek out of the covers. The top half of the room is full of presence. See, I started listening to this song from some Disney film I never saw to describe this moment. It has happened since I started this work with the Guardians. East likes to fill the entire top half of the room and then fall on me. If being crushed between two steel plates felt really good, that’s what it would be like, just in case you wondered. Which is why when the song with that name ended up randomly in my You Tube list, I listened to it. It kind of captured this relationship. I feel like crying today, though, for some reason. I fling back the covers and make the sigils and throw open my arms and yell, “Get over here, Angel.”
He obliges.
But what he has to say is strangely hard to hear. He is happy. He is proud. And he’s handing me off. What the absolute fuck? I just kick out the floor I was standing on and he’s going to leave me here? Ah, the song isn’t so random, is it? It’s my consolation prize, my year’s supply of Eskimo Pies. I feel held. And I also feel strange to look back to the beginning of this month and this new kind of relationship with this familiar being. We’ve known each other a long time. I’ve been pledged to him and his kind for over 20 years. Ok, so in the relative order of things, that isn’t very long. But I’m mortal. Indulge me. At least I know where I’m going next and who I will be working with.
“This is all a bit Dickensian, isn’t it? I mean ghosts of Christmas past and all that.”
He laughs. It’s hard to tell what they know or don’t know of culture. They mostly mine what we are familiar with or focused on. I come to depend on not knowing when dealing with them, honestly. It’s a lot safer. I guess the goal was not to establish some new Self, but to dislodge the one that had become fixed and safe. Except it wasn’t safe at all. The one that was no longer appropriate. It is time to be unmade. Ok then. I’m ready. Hold my beer. Team guardrail to the end.
Seyewailo 