A couple of weeks ago, my best friend came to visit. It was the first time in eight years that we had been together in this little corner of the country, where we both grew up, and the first thing we did was go to the park where we had spent so much of that time. It’s a big park - many trails, bridges, creeks, you can walk for miles and only encounter one or two other people.
As we walked, it felt like nothing had changed. We recognized this tree, and that one. We both remarked on the curiously dreamlike atmosphere that grew around us the more we walked, the way we didn’t have to talk to know when we wanted to stop, or what path to choose at a fork. It felt and looked unreal, and timeless. We had come back to a place that wasn’t just a green spot on a map, that wasn’t just a state park that hadn’t changed much since we were in school together. It was coming back to a different sort of place too, a sense of home and being a part of a thing that felt like it had been there longer than the world had, and would last past the time when the individual trees and rocks and bodies of water were all dust.
We spent hours, most of which weren’t talking, simply being a part of that current of life and green and growing things.
I realise I haven’t posted anything here for a while.
I’m currently on an indefinite break from public kin places. I’m aware that there are interesting and genuine individuals to be found there, but I lack the time and patience to go through piles of rubbish.
I don’t want to disappoint those who subscribed to me (all of whom, as of the time of writing this, I respect and would like to get to know better), but I’ve been hesitant about the extent to which I’m willing to reach out to the so-called otherkin community.
Perhaps I will write something relevant in the near future - most likely a rant.
Since the other one seemed to interest people, here is a spoken-word example of the babblespeak rather than sung. This was more of a test to see if it was possible to do this sort of thing on command rather than when someone jumped out from behind a bush to talk at me or whatever.
I might try to record such encounters in the future, we’ll see.