Feb. 3rd, 2013 12:11 am
quentincoyote: (Default)
A great book, therefore, is in part an act of deception, a tissue of lies: a trick. Indeed it plays the fundamental human trick of finding, or discovering, or imposing, meaning in the senseless, pattern in chaos, fish and princesses and monsters in the heavens. That act of deception is at root a self-deception, conscious and unconscious, and without it life would be -- life is -- a terrible, useless procedure bracketed by orgasm and putrefaction. Small wonder that we should have come, therefore, to revere the One who perpetrates that lie, who embodies the contingent, and in so doing, lends it the appearance of necessity. His name is Trickster.

- Trickster Makes This World

First there was the Dance. It is always the dance... is it not?

Frolic! Ahh, Frolic... here it is now, the main event. The party that everyone has been waiting for. Two full floors of light, heat, sound, and lifewave... that intangible energy, that... Thing which we share, which has drawn us all here together, from all over the earth, from all walks of life... Furry. In a world full of so much confusion and uncertainty, we know who we are, and we have found each other. And tonight, we wish to revel in that connection as never before. Tonight, such revelry will take place in a club in downtown San Jose, called The Agenda. (Mm. The Furry Agenda? I lol'ed) The club is only a couple of blocks away from the main convention hotel of Further Confusion, and sits right next to another fairly epic looking club right next door, also with various bars and restaurants and things all around. This is a major nightlife hub for the locals (non furries), as well. Many of them are out and about in their Saturday night best, dolled up, pimped out, dressed to the nines. But tonight, the Furries are the rockstars. Heads are turning everywhere we go. Our energy is palpable in the air, Electric... everyone wants to be at Our party. We acquire many admireers and followers. The line into the club stretches around the block, big bouncer guys at the door, frisking and giving full pat downs to everyone before granting entry. This is actually a little bit comical, seeing them doing it on fursuiters. But, this is serious business. Rockstars.

And inside the club... Joy! Life! Celebration! Music playing, base is pumping, drinks are flowing, bodies jumping... the place is packed wall to wall with Us... And, it's like that first time for me, all over again... way back in Anthrocon 2001, when I first saw... this, realized that I'd found my people, and first heard Coyote's call... Any bit of residual problem and burden or woe just got set down. And, here I am again. I think to myself... My life is wonderful, amazing! How could I ever have a care or worry in the world, when I have all this? No matter what else may happen in the day to day, I can still always have this. I will always have this! This life, this connection, these people, for ever and ever for the rest of my days. I can always still come Home.

I'm starting to feel my coyote pimp, supremely at ease, and in my element. Chest puffing out, but loose, relaxed, and eyes alert. I grab myself a drink from the bar, and find myself a corner from which to sit and observe for awhile. I like to people watch. Stretch out with my thoughts, kinda... see what's going on with everybody. I particularly like atmospheres such as this, for the music and the lights and the beat kinda gives everyone a base sinewave, upon which to synchronize. There is no more powerful feeling, than the cascading energy of a Connected crowd. A friend passes by, notices me, says, "Ooh, well you're looking suave as always." "Always. ^.^" I reply, with a yotewink, and a tilt of my glass.

Later on, I get a phone number from someone, that I'd casually met the previous night. Cute. Nice butt. Seemingly good sense of humor. Seemingly rather... flexible... *eyes up and down* Maybe I will talk to him again, at some point in the future. Maybe I won't. Maybe nothing will come of it, at all. But... Ooooooh, riiiiiight! *That's* how this is supposed to work! *smacks own forehead with paw!* Yeah! Meet someone in real life, make quick ten minute assessment of them, find it positive, *then* get to know them better, later. Not, spend months and months online getting to know someone "so well", only to find when you actually meet that you'd each rather claw your own faces off rather than having to deal with each other. Yeah! Fuck you Internet, thanks Real Life! It's been so long, I'd sortta forgotten about this other method. Thanks for the reminder! :D But, I digress...


I'm on the dance floor now. Jumping and moving with the crowd. Paws in the air, like I just don't care! The sine wave connects us. I'm really feeling it. The whole room is feeling it. I'm moving through the room, stopping liberally to bump and grind with various bits of sexiness. Life is great. No worries, no cares... everything is perfect.

By these days, I have now refined my Coyote "fursuit" down to only my mirrored aviator sunglasses. They're all I need anymore to be enveloped by the full coyote, as I have written about elsewhere before, should I ever want to "retreat" inside myself, let the shell of my body run on autopilot for the world, while internally I just relax, let go, and "wipe my brow" as it were. Not needing to worry about too much scrutiny from the outside. It's a very Zen-like thing, I sometimes think to myself. Most of the time, at this point here now tonight, they are just resting above my head, I don't even have them down.

And I'm riding the high of this room, and all of the sights and sounds and energy is assulting my senses. I am drinking every last drop of it in, groking it all. And another friend that I know sees me there in the crowd, and he comes up to me, with one of his two mates, and they start to dance with me as well. And we have this cute little threesome going on there, in the middle of the floor, and we're at times grinding, and at times laughing, and at time talking (well really, yelling to each other, cause everything is so loud. :-P )


And then it comes...

A look comes over my friend's face. Intent has sprouted. I'm still dancing, and mostly still Everywhere right now, but, my yotie senses are tingling. He wants to fix me in a Moment. A moment that I don't know what or why, but, I'm not so sure that I want to be in. He stops dancing. He comes in close to me. Sympathy(?) and concern start to seep from his eyes. And he says to me, "Hey, by the way... Are you ok?"

"Huh? What? Yeah, I'm great! :D " I say, still feeling the room and dancing.

The Concern ramps up, and he adds to it with an arm outstreched, and a paw laid upon my shoulder tenderly.

"No, I mean, are you really Ok...? It's been a long time since we've really talked..."


Woah woah woah... What???

The infinite probability wave that I'm riding colapses into a single point, and now I am just in this Moment, and no other. His eyes are like the cones of two tractor beams, pouring fourth their terrible, awful, sympathy... that the entity of my consciousness cannot escape, pull though it tries every which way. Panic. Hyperventillation in my chest.

What? WHAT??

Aviators down *clang!*

Stop looking into me. Mirrors. Youuuuuuu... see yourself, right now. See whatever the fuck it is you want to see. I need to process this place now, wherever the fuck it is you've decided to fucking drag me.

My jaw is on the floor.

There is a wetness at my eyes.

I rub them with my paw, pull it away... tears.. Wha- WHAT? I'm fucking crying?? What did you just do to me???

Am I ok?

Am I ok...


Well, let me see...

I'm at one of the biggest fur cons in the entire world. I'm at the best party at said furcon. I am in *the* place, where pretty much almost everyone of relevance to my life either is, or wants to be, right now, doing exactly what I want and love to be doing, sharing in this comraderie, happy, energetic, smiling, laughing, dancing, feeling so alive...

Am I ok...

Well I mean, I WAS ok... to really really the best of my knowledge, until you asked me that, Commander Buzz Killington!

And yet, you choose *this* moment, while all of this is going on, to look me in the eyes with your terrible sympathy... and ask me if I'm ok.

Well... CLEARLY if you need to do that, then... that MUST mean that there is something about me, even so, right now, which must be screaming out that I am, in fact, not ok. Right? I mean, why else would you fucking ask someone something like that, right now?

Power Word Kill.

In the same flash of that first instant, I find that I am now suddenly running diagnostics, doing internal inventory of all the reasons why I would or should possibly not be ok. What is it, where is it? What is the thing that made you say that? Do I have some kind of huge neon sign that says "DAMAGED!" burried in my chest, all Tony Stark-like? That everyone else but me can see?

Seriously, what else do I have to do at this point?! How much do I need to dance, how much do I need to laugh, how much do I need to party, how much do I need to give, how much do I need to help, how much do I need to write, how much do I need to FUCK... before I am simply allowed to be ok again?

Somewhere in my head, sort of above and behind my right shoulder, Space Coyote is laughing at me...


Yes, Coyote. Thank you. You're right, it's very funny. It's fucking hilarious. I get it. I always get it.


The diagnostics report comes back, and dumps its results in my mind, a scatterd heap to sift through. Again, all of this all at once, still all in that same first micro-instant. Three years ago. All the drifting for a while afterwards. Limbo. The struggle forward. Building anew.. (But I'm here! Right now! So close... And all that shit's been old news for a good while now, anyway...) Mom... MOM! Mom... lots and lots of Mom...

Mom is gone...

The potential of Mom is closed, and all that remains now is what Is, what has been, what is fixed in time, forever.

And all of the things that I might have still wanted to say, to do... all of the things left that she will now never know about me, that I will not get to share with her, if I ever could or would have... And why, oh why didn't I visit more, and god, for fuck's sake, how could I have forgotten her last birthday last year..? And then all of those last few weeks at the end, and everything that I, *I* had to do, and see, and hear, and decide, that I can now never erase from my mind, cause dad was losing it, and no one else could, and I have to manage *MY* feelings, and Mom's feelings, and everyone else's feelings, and still somehow have to try to find the capacity to manage the actual situation, and I can't cry, I don't have time to cry, I have shit that I have to fucking *do*...

Fuck goddammit! I need a fucking cigarette...

I rush downstairs to go outside the club, no doubt confirming the answer for my friend's question in the negative, and prompting him to be even more concerned and sympathetic. (Every time I see him for the rest of the night, I am terrified of him, and do my best to avoid him.) I get outside at last, pull out my wallet, gingerly open it, and in the one particular compartment, stare protectively at the single strand of silver hair that is there... that, just a few months ago, I noticed, and furtively snatched up like a diamond from a particular bed pillow, when all of the rest was already gone...


"Hi Quentin, this is your mother (and, I think you have my name and phone number!) Uhmm... Just give me a ring, when you have a chance. I love you. Bye."

This is the only recording of my mother's voice that I have. It's now a sound file, saved somewhere on my computer. It's the last voice mail that she ever left me. She'd already been in the hospital for some time, but it was while she was still lucid, and before fatigue, and her body shutting down, started to take her mind. But not long before... Only a day or two. Then, there were one or two text messages, that... were not so coherent. I... didn't save those. But, that's when I knew... This time... Of all the times throughout my life, with her... This is the One. This is the Last. Suddenly, I had to be there, full time.

But, this clip... this ten seconds of wave pattern... I have now played over and over and over again... Analyzing it in my mind, down to the microsecond. Searching for Her. Feeling for her personality, her essence, her soul. Everything that she ever was is in this clip. Her intellect, her wit, her humor, her warmth, her thoughtfulness, her love for me... Mom.

It is precious treasure.


I'm sitting by her bedside with her in the hospital. She'd been here now for... two months? After what was supposed to be a simple, in and out, heart arrythmia treatment, which she'd driven *herself* to the hospital for, did not go so well... and an artery ruptured... and they spent the rest of the night pumping... literally fifteen units of blood into her, while they'd tried to repair it. Things just... went down hill from there. But, that is already a lot of... bio things, and if I tried to sit here and relive and describe all of the bio things that I had to quickly crash course learn about to a pratically Doctorate level and, and... WITNESS, and bear hearing her cries of pain over, and... intelligently and pragmatically while I'm trying not to break down crying and freak the fuck out, DECIDE shit about when she couldn't anymore.. Well, then we'd be here all night. Or 2 - 3 weeks, as it turned out. And I can't do that anymore. But anyway...

But, for now, I am here at her bedside... I've gotten here first this morning. When I first walked in a little while ago, she was awake, and alert, lucid and calm. "Oh, hi there!" Her eyes lit up at seeing me. "Hi mamma." I come over to hug her gently and kiss her forehead. She's been here so long now, in this awful place. She is, as would be expected given all the circumstances, commensurately disheveled. But, she is still here, in all of her wonderful, defiant, Her-ness... Looking at her silver hair, I can still kind of detect the remnants of the rather jaunty perm treatment that she'd gotten herself, not long before all of this happened. I might be getting this wrong, but, it kinda reminded me of sort of this... retro hip, like... 1920's Flapper style, or something. Despite everything, it brings a slight curl of a smile to the corner of my mouth - a reminder still shining through, of normal life with her.

We talk for awhile. She tells me that, not long before I came in, that she was dreaming.. And that, in the dream, she thought that she was dead. And, she... made peace with... God... The Universe... Everything... Whatever. And that she was ok. And then she woke up, and she was still here...

We know. We both know. There is no use trying to hide it, or lie to each other about it. That would be dishonest, and the opposite of genuine connection, which is what we both dearly want with each other. We talk for awhile longer. I tell her about how... my whole life, when she's had her many health episodes... I felt like I was always kind of raised to ignore it, to not worry about it, she'll always get through it... cause otherwise, there were just always so many that, if we cried over every one, we would always all just be nervous upset wrecks about it. But... I've always known, ever since I was a little kid, that one day, the Last time would come... And, I don't know... I HOPE this isn't it! *Hugs tight* I love you so, sooooo much! But, I can no longer just bury my head in the sand anymore. Not now... Not like this.

Eventually, she falls asleep. I just sit there and... watch her for awhile. All my love, all of my memories washing over me. I must have fallen asleep, and leaned my head down on my arms there, on the hospital bed railing. The next thing that I'm aware of is the feeling of her hand upon my cheek. I open my eyes, and I see her looking at me, her love for me reflected right back at me, and she says, "Oh baby, please don't give up! A miracle could still happen... And you're right! I've always beaten these things before..."

And I smile, and I want to laugh, and I'm crying all at the same time, but also I want so desperately to believe her, but, I just know that this time it isn't true... and fuck fuck FUCK! I want to project that belief, and that encouragement for her back in my own eyes to her, but I can't cause we know it isn't true, and I can't lie to her, and so I smile and nod, but my eyes are sad and tearful, and I see her see it, and fuck goddammit... But, she knows it's true too, and I see that too...

She falls asleep for a little while again.

The next thing I know, she kind of bolts awake. But, this time, she's either... out of lucidity, or still dreaming a bit, or something. She has this almost... childlike quality about her face now in this moment... innocent. A little girl again. She turns her head, sees me, and in this almost... wondering, maybe even slightly exuberant voice, she says to me... "Is it Time yet?"

And I'm lauging and crying again, but right now she needs me to be the adult Protector, so I pull the skew towards the laughing, the love, and the careing.

"Yes," I say, the words catching a little in my throat, but with as much kindness and assurance as I can muster. "It is Time."

"Oh..." she says. "But... Isn't it too soon?"

More laughter from me, this time all genuine.

"Well... It's always too soon..."

She ponders this for a moment, in her little girl-ness... Then nods sagely, and drifts back to sleep.


Some time later. A week? Week and a half? I don't know, it's hard to keep track anymore. Too many horrors, too much pain. Also, the pain of false hope. A rally. Suddenly, we think, or are told, or are advised, there is actually stuff that can be done. (Please don't let me, whoever is there with me at my time, go through all this. Please don't do to me, what I did to her, and now can never undo, and will never know if it would have even made any difference at all, if I'd done it sooner or more or better. She asked me, when we heard all this stuff, "You mean, I still have a choice?" "Yes. Emphatically, cause of all this new doctor blah blah blah stuff, yes." "Good! Good. That's what I need to hear more of." Ok mom, then I will try. I will really, really try. I was only doing, at the time, what I thought was best, with what I knew at the time. I really really tried. I tried so fucking hard... I'm sorry...)

She's come awake again finally, after being put under for another surgery. This time, to insert a feeding tube into her stomach, cause she'd pretty much stopped eating entirely for about the past three weeks. And, her body needs food to heal itself, right? She's starving to death, and her body is eating itself now. This is my logic, in concert with what the doctors are now saying and giving options for, and so this is the decision I make when she's not lucid, and convince her of in the very fleeting few moments still, when she is. Months from now, well after she's gone, I will learn that this whole not eating thing, is actually an extremely common phenomenon in people who are dying. It is not a cause, it is an effect. But, here we are now, still fighting the inevitable, and prolonging the suffering for it.

She hears my voice, coming down the hall, looking for her in the recovery room. I hear her in turn, disoriented, but, latching on to my presence. Calling out to me, "Quentin! I hear you! Oh, I hear you..."

I come to her, and hold her hand, squeezing gently. The doctor there tells us that everything with this particular thing went well and as expected. She'll be able to start to get nutrition into her soon. Mom is coming more awake. She looks down at the clear plastic tube protuding from her belly. Mutters under her breath, "I feel like I'm a science experiment..." I tell her, I know... I'm sorry, but, this is supposed to make her better, like she wanted. More muttering, then kind of more directly to me, "I'm so tired of all of this. Can't you just go find a knife or something?" Defiant, fire. Classic Mom. I actually laugh out loud, despite myself. "No, I can't just go find a knife or something!" "Well, why not?!" More laughing from me. "Well, you mean besides the fact that I don't particularly feel like going to jail for murder?"

More muttering. "You know, you're killing me here with all of this stuff..." Me: full Coyote laugh. "Well... Yannow... you're telling me that I'm killing you, but a second ago, you were asking me to try to find a knife to go do exactly that. You really need to make up your mind here, ya know?"

Humor. That was the appropriate reaction, right? Cause it's funny...


One of the last times... She's asleep, and I am again laying my head down on my arms, on the bed railing over her. Just looking at her, watching her sleep. Her face is calm now. Not in any pain. And... I am just... such a little boy again. Somehow, though I'm looking down, looking up at her. looking up, through time. I'm so small... and she is so tall above me. And I am full of awe, and wonder, and love for her. She made me. She loves me. She would do anything for me, ever... She always has. She is one of the very few people on earth that, no matter what, no matter when, no matter where, I know without any hesitation, that she would always be there for me... care about me... help me... love me.

*I'm frightened* *How will I survive in this world without you?*

I must have fallen asleep.

Again, I am awakened by the feeling of her palm upon my cheek. I open my eyes to meet her's... full of all the love, and warmth, and concern for me in the universe. Lucid. "Are you ok?" she asks...

Am I ok?

Despite everything, my heart flutters, and I feel a smile and a laugh coming on, as I wipe the tears from my eyes.

Even after all of this, here, now, like this... All you can think of is to look after me? Ask me if I'm ok?

I let my laughter out for her, and tell her that yes, I'm ok... I think for a few moments longer, and then I say to her as I smile, "You know Mom... I really love how, even now, like this... you can still be the best Mom in the whole world, ever."

Again, her fiery defiance, as she turns away, and mutters to herself under her breath.

"Well, why can't I be?"


"You can, Mom. You totally can. You always are. And don't ever stop, cause, I love every bit of it..."


Don't ever stop.

I love you.

I will always love you.

Rest, in peace.


I'm back upstairs in the club again now, finally. Stitting on a bench in a back corner somewhere... brooding... staring angrily, forlornly, at the multitude reveling before me. Chin in my paw, scowl on my face.

Am I ok... Am I ok...

Fuck you.

How *dare* you ask me if I'm ok, here, now...

Am I ok...

What does that even mean? What is ok?

Does "Ok" mean, being in a Place? Belonging somewhere? I thought that I was in a Place, once, some time ago...

"One characteristic of Trickster is, he has no Place. Fish belong in the water, birds belong in the sky, etc. But, Trickster has no home..."

That phrase has vexed me, and caused me some amount of sadness, when I first saw it, and whenever I have come around again to ponder it. But...

But, for having no Place, no fixed way of Being on his own, Trickster is adaptive, and can move at will through all of them. When the river dries up, the fish will die. But, Trickster will learn the new Place, will survive, and will thrive."

Mmm... Indeed.

What else... What else we got here...?


Mmm. Let's step over here for a minute. Haven't been over here in awhile.

Hey, you. Yeah, YOU!

Haven't talked to You in quite awhile... neither in person, nor just in my head anymore, in a good long time now. Maybe, I do still have one or two things to say.

And yes, let's just get this first part out of the way.

So first of all, once again, fuck you. Fuck you for leaving me. Not only for the way that you did it, but, for doing it at all. My first, best student...

...and, my Teacher as well. When I was still a poor one myself, uncertain, insecure... excited but frightened, holding on for dear life as we discovered the secrets of the universe together. I don't know if I'm better at it now, but, I'm trying... I'm always learning. I wasn't ready. I didn't know who I was anymore, without you. I think though, that I've been finally getting a handle on that now. Ironically... it may be that, you didn't know who you were, without me anymore, either... and you had to go and figure that out. I understand that now.

I know that you loved me, once anyway, that you never wanted to hurt me, and that you were just as confused and frightened in your own way, about your own things, and, that you were just simply trying to do your best that you knew how to, with what you had, and with what you knew at the time.

I forgive you. I hope that you're doing well now, wherever you are. I hope that you're happy.

I'm sorry for any way that I hurt you, during, or since, too.


I'm going to die one day.

I'm going to die one day, and then all of my stories will end...

I already know what it's going to look like, too. I will be drifting off into some kind of... non-lucid otherwhereness... And I will be seeing whatever it is that I see there, experiencing whatever I'm experiencing, talking to whomever I will talk to... like mom was.. And I'll be doing that, and suddenly I will go.. Man, what a story this would make! I gotta go write this stuff down, I gotta share this with the everybody! But, I will never get to come back out, to do it. My Last story... I will tell only to Me.

Will I die alone? *sob... moment of melancholy*


*You are never alone. You are surrounded, litteraly and figuratively, by people that love you, and care about you. You are valued. You will be missed. You will be remembered and loved, by people that you loved, who mattered to you.*


"Let there be light..."


The music is playing, the crowd is dancing... and it at last, once again, contains among it, a certain particular coyote...

Oh. And, by the way?

Yes, I'm ok.

Thanks for asking.


quentincoyote: (Default)
Quentin Coyote

September 2017

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