I am now a single man after 29 years of marriage. I am an artist and a loner. I am a writer and a seeker of new vistas beyond the range of normal human perception. I attempt to always see the world through the eyes of a cat or a bird. I am the wind in the trees when there is the approach of a storm. I am the silent dawn before the first orange fires pierce those murky clouds, the residue of dreams gathered by millions of souls. I am the gentle sobbing of the lolling Lilly, the murmur of a stream over moss covered rock on an April noon. I am the grey skies of storm, the lingering haze of mist on the hills and valleys of a summer swelter at sunset. I am alone. I am not a creature of the Internet yet I understand that in order to know others in this modern world one must participate in the electronic realm or suffer in silence. So here I am after a long struggle to save something I found sacred, my marriage to a woman of inspiration and insight. I have learned a lot since the days of my awakening. I now employ my abilities and when I am able I will display art that might confound the normal perception. I remember once showing my work to a psychiatrist with worry that he would think I was out of my mind but he was impressed. Now if only I could learn to scan, paste and cut, all the trades of the modern day artist wanting to share their strange vision.
I am reading a book by Rick Yancey titled "The Isle of Blood". A tremendous effort on this authors part, his third of the Monstrumologist series. His first book "The Monstrumologist" stirred embers of darkness and Goth, Mary Shelly meets Edgar Alan Poe and H.P. Lovecraft for a conjuring of stark horror and vivid blood chilling vision. I highly recommend the first and third books of Yancey's series. His 2nd book, The Curse of the Windingo was not as riveting but did pay homage to Algernon Blackwood so I thought it was special in this light alone.
Algernon Blackwood to me was the one author of many I have read who came close to unlocking the doors of cosmic perception and the weird. He was the one who taught me to listen to the wind at night as it coursed through the trees. He taught me that my church was the forest. I live in the forest now. I am back to speaking with those towering sentinels. I am the man whom the trees loved. I am the keeper of cats and birds, living in harmony with nature, the realm of wood land spirit and rolling hills. If your read Blackwood, read him aloud, without your Internet gadgets nearby. Read his tales such as The Temptation of The Clay, The Glamour of The Snow, The Man Whom The Trees Loved, Ancient Sorcery's, or the excellent cosmic journey which is undertaken in The Willows. You will not soon forget this body of work by one once known as the Ghost Man.
In closing, with the afterthought about Rick Yancey's work, I will say his work rivals the ancient gas-light era horror and his dialogue between the characters is superlative. It is a series to make one gasp and laugh in the same page. I will give a full book review of Yancey's "The Isle of Blood" upon completion.
I now retire to the crypt of memory. I retire from the mainstream of life Immortal. I am a shadowed person. I have become obscured, forgotten and now face isolation I have not known for nearly 30 years. Something I once embraced I now dread. I will learn to love my silent realm once again. I am a spirit in the midst of human corruption and utter decay. I am the ghost in the hall watching you without me. I am alone.
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