D11 Love!Polygon Tarot

D11 Love!Polygon Tarot Sept 2, 2011 17:15:55 GMT -5

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Post by L△LIA on Sept 2, 2011 17:15:55 GMT -5

IGNORE THIS UNTIL IT'S PRETTY AND CORRECTLY FORMATTED, PLEASE. LEARNING NEW CODING MAKES ME GO D:<. ~~I SHOULD FIGURE OUT HOW TO MAKE THE COLUMNS THE CORRECT SIZES, PFT.~~ IF YOU KNOW HOW TO CODE TABLES, PLEASE TEACH ME YOUR KNOWLEDGE. <333

0. ANDORRA, THE MOONWIFE

[atrb=border,0,true]Once upon a time there was a curious girl, who all her life seemed to have been ignored by the world.¹ She spent her time alone with her imagination² and together they explored a world of boundless impossibility within the mundane white walls of their home.

MORNING
It appears that actual flowers have begun sprouting from the floral wallpaper in the northern-most hallway of the fourth floor.³ Upon closer inspection, it would also seem that the paint is flaking from the baseboard where the woodgrain is beginning to push out like tree bark. I can't say I oppose the changes in decor, but still, I should have liked to be consulted.

NOON
The wood floors of several stories seem to be disappearing and leaving naught but sky in their wake.⁴ This is a tricky situation; we have opted to wait it out while initiating plans for containment. It is to be noted that research is proved difficult when there is a distinct lack of floor upon which to investigate. On the other hand, it has become an extremely convenient means of observing the lower floors.

AFTERNOON
While investigating the fading floorboards, for a moment I swore I glimpsed an immense webwork of threads within them. It was as if the very structure of the house were being revealed, magnifying the way each particle was braided together. I cannot escape the feeling that the house isn't simply disappearing, but is being absconded with.⁵

EVENING
After becoming stranded on the bad end of a vanishing hallway, we narrowly escaped danger through a window and have taken refuge in the arms of a tree. Thus far, its branches appear significantly more stable than the house.

Having discovered safety in the tree's steady hold, Andorra and her imagination played cats cradle with one another until it was too dark to see the imaginary strings. Night shuffled in like a shy and quiet friend who could enter a room without anyone noticing.⁶ Only now there were no rooms and suddenly the night caught her eyes. She had never spent much time exploring the outdoors; she had always been far too preoccupied with the happenings of the indoor world and so, Andorra had never seen the moon.

Not once had she gazed upon the bright satellite of his body as he watched over the world like the god of the night sky. She had not witnessed how his light refracted between the shadow hewn ghosts of passing clouds and across the windows of sleeping houses. Never had she admired the face of the man in the moon and his unfathomable beauty. She had simply not taken the time to do such things. Now, all of those thoughts struck her simultaneously and the shock of it recalibrated her emotions.

Andorra fell in love with the moon.

Abandoning her imagination on the boughs below her, she climbed to the pinnacle of the tree. From there, she stretched her arms to the sky,⁷ wanting nothing more than to touch the moon. Try as she might, the moon was too high and she could not reach his face.

Jilted from failure, Andorra wavered hesitantly against the evening breeze until her imagination helped her to the ground, where she collapsed in sorrow and wept. As much as it tried to comfort her, there was nothing it could do to stop her tears.

She cried until the soil was so saturated that it simply could not absorb any more. A pool of tears⁸ collected where they fell, growing until the reflective surface made it appear as if the sky were on the ground. Examining the reflection, Andorra was gripped with hope as she reached out to it. There, in the middle of the puddle, was the moon.

So, Andorra touched the moon.⁹

¹Somewhere in my past there is a small girl walking across a two-day field of untouched snow. She is trying not to break the surface, leaving the canvas of winter unspoken. To accomplish this, she is holding her breath, as if that will make her lighter, as if that will pull her into the air. I am not a child of god, but I know how to walk across the surface of snow without leaving any tracks. i cannot teach your how to do this, but I'll tell you a secret: ~~It has nothing to do with weight.~~¹⁰

²See Appendix A.

³See Appendix B.

⁴I can't remember the last time I looked at the sky. Then again, I don't think I've ever really looked at it. Why should I care about the sky? It moves when I try to touch it, like I'm a child with dirty hands about to press my palms to its new dress. How do you love something you can never touch?

⁵See Travelogue, 32.^5a

⁶All out of breath, she came rushing in, rushing in, rushing in.¹¹ She carried stars like kites and had yesterday's memoir written across her skin, the ink still damp. It was a preamble for homelessness,¹² a reminder of realizations yet to come.

⁷There is a distance between my arms and it tells me to spend less time with myself. Tells me:

"—don't woolgather reverie.
—don't Midwest make-believe.
—don't sidewalk map without somewhere to go.
—don't imagine my nothingness as Someone's existence."

The distance longs to be filled. It likes feeling close to people who surround it with their skin and compress it between their bodies. It aspires to be human and those moments of being clothed in us promise it this is possible.

Attaining fulfillment in the cradle-lull of our entwinement, the touch-drunk distance tells me:

"—I occupy space like endless whale bones.
—bodies exist to make motion into medicine.
—the weight of my importance is dependent upon your memory.
—inhaling me into your lungs feels like coming home."

⁸However she soon made out that she was in a pool of her own tears which she had wept when she was nine feet high. "I wish I hadn't cried so much!" said Alice, as she swam about, trying to find her way out. "I shall be punished for it now, I suppose, but being drowned in my own tears! That will be a queer thing, to be sure! However, everything is queer to-day!"¹³

⁹It was a kind of fairy tale happily ever after, but it was no ending. Even Andorra knew better than to believe in those.

¹⁰Ellis, Brian S. Edited excerpts from "Open Letter To Boys Who Think That They're Bigger Than Me."¹⁴ Making Somewhere Here. Boston, MA: Hard Pressed Productions, 2008. 5-6.

¹¹Plants and Animals. "Lola Who?" with/avec EP. Secret City Records, 2007. 1.

¹²You know that point in your life when you realize the house you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of a sudden, even though you have some place where you put your things, that idea of home is gone. One day when you move out it just sort of happens and you feel like you can never get it back. It's like you feel homesick for a place that doesn't even exist.¹⁵

¹³Carroll, Lewis. Alice In Wonderland. London, England: Macmillan, 1865.

¹⁴See Appendix C.

¹⁵Garden State. Written and directed by Zack Braff. Fox Searchlight, 2004.

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