CICIBLUE

(1945-2006)

[ciciblue42]

(1945-2006)

hello, lovely readers. this new page will be dedicated to my late mother, her prolific artwork, her dedication as a self avowed medium. her automatic writing and ability to contact the dead. please feel free to join and discuss with me what topics this may bring up for you.

[yama-bato]

Roy Wright

The Spreading Summer Leaves On The Ancient Oak

[whereifindsanity]

Bastien Artigas

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

A Kirlian photograph of the aura around a fingertip showing flares and energy bubbles sourced from the book "To Kiss Earth Goodbye" by Ingo Swann in 1975. (The image was reproduced courtesy of Judy Skutch and the Foundation of Parasensory Investigation, NY)

* * * *

“Fling me across the fabric of time and the seas of space. Make me nothing and from nothing-everything.”  — Rumi

[ciciblue42]

mom. There are faces in my cane mom. Much like your automatic drawing, wood grain has a way of popping out at you as well. All the scientists and all the smart people say that you see the faces because your brain wants to make sense of chaos. A conversation me and mom had many many many times over. And we always seem to agree, Do you see the faces because your brain tells you something must be there ? Do you see the faces Because something is there and your brain is struggling to see it? Uncle Johnny Used to hold People's eye glasses up to a flashlight And say look at the heads on the wall The heads on the wall people the heads on the wall! Each lens would Shine with a round head like a glow-worm. Uncle Johnny saw the heads on the wall and because uncle Johnny saw them all of us children saw them as well. That is not the uncle Johnny of electric chair fame. This was our uncle Johnny who had a neurological disease that by the end of his life He could understand everything that you said and did he just simply could not respond any longer. Even though uncle Johnny couldn't talk to me anymore whenever I saw him I would shine the light of the glasses And we would look at the heads on the wall and uncle Johnny would smile So big he might have outshone those glow-worms. My mother showed me every face that appeared magically on her paper underneath her fingertips With hardly any effort whatsoever. The spirits flocked to my mother on the other side as if she was the glow-worm. And so today when the faces began to appear in my cane, I could feel the presence of my uncle Johnny and my wonderful mother, ciciblue. The faces in the ether, and the heads on the wall, and now the faces in my cane to accompany me as I struggle to walk the halls of pain and cancer.

Mom sent me a song In the middle of all this as well. I had looked down and automatically there was Monica Richards and a good thing. All of a sudden I realized that I needed to hear that song Just then.

I miss you every day mom but I know you are right there by my side.

[ciciblue42]

A Good Thing

[90scully]

POLTERGEIST (1982) dir. Tobe Hooper.

[ymutate]

Ernst Haas

Giant Rabbits, New Mexico, 1952

Ernst Haas (March 2, 1921 – September 12, 1986) was an Austrian-American photojournalist and color photographer. During his 40-year career Haas trod the line between photojournalism and art photography. In addition to his coverage of events around the globe after World War II Haas was an early innovator in color photography. His images were carried by magazines like Life and Vogue and, in 1962, were the subject of the first single-artist exhibition of color photography at New York's Museum of Modern Art. He served as president of the cooperative Magnum Photos. His book of volcano photographs, The Creation (1971), remains one of the most successful photography books ever published, selling more than 350,000 copies

[ciciblue42]

He's been keeping me company mom.

[ciciblue42]

artemesia says I put this down here and left it and two days of obsessively cleaning up the room, the room I feed Wilma in multiple times a day. artemesia never braves the stairs so she never comes down. I don't berate her that. Her legs hurt the poor thing constantly. I always feel so sorry for her. But visually seeing me take it downstairs, her Propensity to not believe me. like I haven't turned the joint upside down looking for this thing for days. I'm faking? I'm lying? my drugs are so good I just blocked it out of my mind.

smh....

I tell her anything I get this......

I'm glad my water jug has been returned. I don't care who returned it.

[paolo-streito-1264]

John Phillips. New Year's Eve, 1941–42. Times Square, Manhattan.

[harmcityherald]

little incidents.

what is it?...split metal ring for keys probably stainless steel or steel and tin.

how many coffees did I drink?...four. yum. dog

where did you carry your cup around at?... every room except my granddaughter's.

when discovered? after drinking all and gone to rinse cup.

any claim on item...no one has seen, lost, or said hey dats mine.

Explanatory theories... It could have fallen into the cup From some precarious precipice. It could have been placed there by some ornery practical joker. It could be a gift for the keymaster from dozer.

time factors... Since discovered at the end of 4 coffees Drank over a period of 5 hours it could have been introduced at any time during this period.

personal opinion... Although it could very easily have been a practical joke or an accidental Introduction of the object into my cup while I was puttering around the house As I usually do I still get the feeling that this is somehow a message for me As I have spent the last 24 hours talking about Paranormal activity at the manor and about my mother quite heavily. personal opinion? this is a message from mom saying hello, yes, its me Gregory I can hear her voice. Now the only question left is to my mom, Does the key ring have significance or is it just an object that was utilized for it's convenience? I was talking about my missing water jug earlier today. Receiving a key ring, does that mean my water jug is somewhere under lock and key? Do I need to open my mind more. Perhaps open the mind of others? Something to do with opening or closing, blocking or allowing. Maybe a Maybe a traveling wapsmith broke in To steal Something from my 1,920s and 30s key collection thanks to my grandfather And he slipped and accidentally dropped 1 of his key rings into my coffee and then made a hasty escape so I would not Find him.

... it could happen.

[ciciblue42]

trigger warning: long post. vent post. paranormal post. you're invited but if you read that transgression is yours to own.

When things veer into the lane of the hypernatural, I will be posting about it here At my mom's page. It is a natural thing for me to talk to My mother At any point at any given time on any day whatsoever. I am usually asked who I am talking to, And I will say "myself". But we both know that's probably not true. And at the risk of having to explain my own belief systems, I will just say I 100% Believe that my family is still here, at the manor. That is my grandfather, my grandmother, and my mother. Usually if I am in the midst of an anxiety filled repair issue on the manor itself, then I am talking to my grandfather. If I have an errant spirit in the house that needs to be ejected, I will more than likely be talking to my mother. If I want to be mistreated and manipulated and be made a victim of an evil queen of the universe, then I am absolutely talking to my grandmother. This page is devoted to my mother and her artwork which she considered automatic drawing. As she would tell it, there was a waiting list of spirits, in line, waiting to get their picture drawn. She had an open door policy. About which we argued incessantly and frequently, and at one point, I even lined her bedroom with salt. That was me creating boundaries with my mom (snark)

And if you never thought you would hear me say this, here it is, People already think I'm crazy enough, or I could rephrase that and say enough people already think I'm crazy, and because I'm dealing with end of life issues constantly, I usually don't care how crazy people think that I am because I categorically refuse to take anyone's opinion of me to my grave.... Or beyond.(que scary music) one of my frequent sayings is "The closer you get to the door, the less worried about consequences you will become". People who talk bad to me when I am holding a hammer in my hand should take that saying too heart. That's just a little advice.

anyway...

I will not be discussing these things on my main page. I have enough Bull cocky going on over there, We don't need to add to it. I'm going to try to only verbalize that here. psychologists will say I'm compartmentalizing, making room for my schizophrenia, which remains undiagnosed© so we, yes I said we, are going to use good space to once again categorically deny, in all legal terms discussed or undiscussed, for any reason I may desire to discuss , may in no way whatsoever be construed as agreement to, or any capitulation to, any diagnosis that any random psychologist, therapist, donut baker or tumblr user may formulate about us or anyone within 6 feet of our GPS coordinates.

In conclusion I would like to approach the meat of this post. I have a missing water jug. It is not necessarily my favorite water jug. But because of Hotel KittyTo try and get her to apologizeat, It's become indispensable to carry the water up and down the stairs. We have yet to install a sink downstairs in the basement. Thats a wip. I took a full jug of water down to hotel kitty Cat. I filled their containers And I was straightening things up, I turned back around to get the water jug and vacate the area and the jug was simply not there. We are on the 4th day of the missing water jug mystery. The jug is about 8" in circumference and about 18" tall, It is made of plastic but it is clear plastic to facilitate the illusion of it being cut glass. Which I love. No matter how many times or where I look, the jug is simply not there anymore. After a fourth day of searching I throw up my hands. artemesia, who has been on a bender about my behavior, my obsessions, my fast talking and related hyperconversations in which I talk too much, talk too fast, talk too loud, talk to myself, talk while the show is playing, I've been called obnoxious, crazy, addicted, I do what I call projects at night so no one is awake, she calls them messes for her to clean up. but she doesn't ever clean up anything, not even on a good day. I do that lol (can you hear us arguing yet? lol.) trust me, the name calling is actually better than usual. usually there is a gay slur (take your choice lol) mixed in for color and dramatic license. artemesia gets like this, I'm used to it. I can not judge her, I am guilty of very similar cyclic mental health behaviors. She is never wrong about anything, as she tells it. She will never apologize for the most minor thing, The kids have even made up a makeshift game they play with her To try and get her to apologize. They all laugh lovingly about it, even her, but she doesn't apologize. lol. She loves to cook, when it's easy, I do most of the cooking when daughter in law of doesn't. she cooks thru the week for all 6 of us. We lost a younger a few weeks back. granddaughter stood up for herself and boi toy is gone. lol. I have so much respect for her. she is adulting better than all of us. the secret supervisor. but not a secret to me. I see her. lol. I'm proud to say I am her favourite. it says alot. the other residents all say its because I spoil her, always have. They conveniently cast her as the money grubber, but the real reason is because we are allies embedded in a right wing sleeper cell unit. When i do the required kitchen work i earn the moniker of "kitchen bitch". even though the bitch but be hiding from the kitchen herself. Any excuse to call me something feminine. it warps her mind that I consider myself bisexual, but I also consider myself monogamous, so I can be married to the same woman for 37 yrs and stay true to my partner because I thought those were the rules. lol.

BUT I DIGRESS.....

artemesia is saying, repeatedly, that she saw me take said jug downstairs, full of water. I have said, repeatedly, I'm not arguing that point. I totally remember and agree I had the jug. Her main point being, once again, I must have been high on my pain meds and hid it from myself. Or I'm just crazy another convenient excuse to hammer away at me. but the jug? still missing. there have been little incidents as well, some involving the youngers. Something disappears on them, No matter how many times they look for it It does not reappear, and then a week later it shows back up..... someplace odd like the freezer or something. Of course, artemesia lays that on me too. like I'm hiding the kids shit to make everyone think there are ghosts. no baby, we don't all think like you do. every accusation is actually an admission lol. why are all righties like this? I dunno, but damn if it ain't spot on. lol. I also want to add I didn't take or hide the jug. The fuckin' jug must be in the upside down. just saying.

So little incidents, something everyone has noticed, nothing wholesale malicious. But I want my water jug back. Now just on principle alone. You can haunt my house, call me gay slurs, but you can't steal from me. We have rules around here.

maybe in addition to Hotel Kitty Kat, we should also consider calling it Hotel Insidious.

****"reblogging as mom, to provide link to mom, I have no idea who I asked to follow her. I also had a page called the harm city unhinged Which I changed over Because it is now on artemisia's phone so I made that into artemesia's page. One day she will read all this and my life will be in danger lol. just don't expect her to apologize.

[ciciblue42]

trigger warning: long post. vent post. paranormal post. you're invited but if you read that transgression is yours to own.

When things veer into the lane of the hypernatural, I will be posting about it here At my mom's page. It is a natural thing for me to talk to My mother At any point at any given time on any day whatsoever. I am usually asked who I am talking to, And I will say "myself". But we both know that's probably not true. And at the risk of having to explain my own belief systems, I will just say I 100% Believe that my family is still here, at the manor. That is my grandfather, my grandmother, and my mother. Usually if I am in the midst of an anxiety filled repair issue on the manor itself, then I am talking to my grandfather. If I have an errant spirit in the house that needs to be ejected, I will more than likely be talking to my mother. If I want to be mistreated and manipulated and be made a victim of an evil queen of the universe, then I am absolutely talking to my grandmother. This page is devoted to my mother and her artwork which she considered automatic drawing. As she would tell it, there was a waiting list of spirits, in line, waiting to get their picture drawn. She had an open door policy. About which we argued incessantly and frequently, and at one point, I even lined her bedroom with salt. That was me creating boundaries with my mom (snark)

And if you never thought you would hear me say this, here it is, People already think I'm crazy enough, or I could rephrase that and say enough people already think I'm crazy, and because I'm dealing with end of life issues constantly, I usually don't care how crazy people think that I am because I categorically refuse to take anyone's opinion of me to my grave.... Or beyond.(que scary music) one of my frequent sayings is "The closer you get to the door, the less worried about consequences you will become". People who talk bad to me when I am holding a hammer in my hand should take that saying too heart. That's just a little advice.

anyway...

I will not be discussing these things on my main page. I have enough Bull cocky going on over there, We don't need to add to it. I'm going to try to only verbalize that here. psychologists will say I'm compartmentalizing, making room for my schizophrenia, which remains undiagnosed© so we, yes I said we, are going to use good space to once again categorically deny, in all legal terms discussed or undiscussed, for any reason I may desire to discuss , may in no way whatsoever be construed as agreement to, or any capitulation to, any diagnosis that any random psychologist, therapist, donut baker or tumblr user may formulate about us or anyone within 6 feet of our GPS coordinates.

In conclusion I would like to approach the meat of this post. I have a missing water jug. It is not necessarily my favorite water jug. But because of Hotel KittyTo try and get her to apologizeat, It's become indispensable to carry the water up and down the stairs. We have yet to install a sink downstairs in the basement. Thats a wip. I took a full jug of water down to hotel kitty Cat. I filled their containers And I was straightening things up, I turned back around to get the water jug and vacate the area and the jug was simply not there. We are on the 4th day of the missing water jug mystery. The jug is about 8" in circumference and about 18" tall, It is made of plastic but it is clear plastic to facilitate the illusion of it being cut glass. Which I love. No matter how many times or where I look, the jug is simply not there anymore. After a fourth day of searching I throw up my hands. artemesia, who has been on a bender about my behavior, my obsessions, my fast talking and related hyperconversations in which I talk too much, talk too fast, talk too loud, talk to myself, talk while the show is playing, I've been called obnoxious, crazy, addicted, I do what I call projects at night so no one is awake, she calls them messes for her to clean up. but she doesn't ever clean up anything, not even on a good day. I do that lol (can you hear us arguing yet? lol.) trust me, the name calling is actually better than usual. usually there is a gay slur (take your choice lol) mixed in for color and dramatic license. artemesia gets like this, I'm used to it. I can not judge her, I am guilty of very similar cyclic mental health behaviors. She is never wrong about anything, as she tells it. She will never apologize for the most minor thing, The kids have even made up a makeshift game they play with her To try and get her to apologize. They all laugh lovingly about it, even her, but she doesn't apologize. lol. She loves to cook, when it's easy, I do most of the cooking when daughter in law of doesn't. she cooks thru the week for all 6 of us. We lost a younger a few weeks back. granddaughter stood up for herself and boi toy is gone. lol. I have so much respect for her. she is adulting better than all of us. the secret supervisor. but not a secret to me. I see her. lol. I'm proud to say I am her favourite. it says alot. the other residents all say its because I spoil her, always have. They conveniently cast her as the money grubber, but the real reason is because we are allies embedded in a right wing sleeper cell unit. When i do the required kitchen work i earn the moniker of "kitchen bitch". even though the bitch but be hiding from the kitchen herself. Any excuse to call me something feminine. it warps her mind that I consider myself bisexual, but I also consider myself monogamous, so I can be married to the same woman for 37 yrs and stay true to my partner because I thought those were the rules. lol.

BUT I DIGRESS.....

artemesia is saying, repeatedly, that she saw me take said jug downstairs, full of water. I have said, repeatedly, I'm not arguing that point. I totally remember and agree I had the jug. Her main point being, once again, I must have been high on my pain meds and hid it from myself. Or I'm just crazy another convenient excuse to hammer away at me. but the jug? still missing. there have been little incidents as well, some involving the youngers. Something disappears on them, No matter how many times they look for it It does not reappear, and then a week later it shows back up..... someplace odd like the freezer or something. Of course, artemesia lays that on me too. like I'm hiding the kids shit to make everyone think there are ghosts. no baby, we don't all think like you do. every accusation is actually an admission lol. why are all righties like this? I dunno, but damn if it ain't spot on. lol. I also want to add I didn't take or hide the jug. The fuckin' jug must be in the upside down. just saying.

So little incidents, something everyone has noticed, nothing wholesale malicious. But I want my water jug back. Now just on principle alone. You can haunt my house, call me gay slurs, but you can't steal from me. We have rules around here.

maybe in addition to Hotel Kitty Kat, we should also consider calling it Hotel Insidious.

****"reblogging as mom, to provide link to mom, I have no idea who I asked to follow her. I also had a page called the harm city unhinged Which I changed over Because it is now on artemisia's phone so I made that into artemesia's page. One day she will read all this and my life will be in danger lol. just don't expect her to apologize.

[coolkidsofhistory]

“My Dad with David Bowie on vacation in Greece, 1988”

[coolkidsofhistory]

David Attenborough introducing his daughter to a noisy cockatoo, 1959. 

[coolkidsofhistory]

“My Dad with David Bowie on vacation in Greece, 1988”