Two kisses and a slap.

I'll give you something to cry about.

I’m all breathless over Cary Tennis. I’ve only recently begun to read him and I already love him. Reading Cary Tennis gives me the same feeling as reading Stephen King* or Toni Morrison* when they’re on top of their game: it’s as if you can feel the writer’s breath on your skin as he murmurs his incantations, as he mouths the spells that draw you into his arcane world: a place where your mutual secrets are kept. I go willingly. I do not have to be asked twice.

Then there are those writers whose company is unendurable. It’s that they suffer so for their art, of course, that one cannot suffer their presence much. One should feel no sympathy for these people. In fact, identifying with them in the least tempts the Muses to stop returning your calls. Here’s a sample of a pair quoted by Cary Tennis in his now-aborted “Artistic Betrayal Week.” It lasted just two tragic days…

"The creative personality is subject to betrayal by others because they/we are so ready to betray ourselves. And we are more than likely to have been the betrayer, to have caused immeasurable and unconsidered hurt to others in our quest for purity and perfection. Or in our quest for dreams and debauchery." (sniffle)

“Creative people, in whatever field or context they work, have the gift of being able to glimpse, discern and interpret information outside of the paradigm. This gift will always cause pain because that sense of "vision" allows them to see what others cannot. The gift will always cause pain because it tends to create isolation. Creative people live in worlds that are not sensible to most of those around them.” (sob)

In other excellent weirdness: I discovered Hellcat’s Blog when I was over at the odd neighbor (and was struck by the coincidence of the profile name and my recent post). Like WikiFray, it's a group blog, but that's where the resemblance stops. I’m not altogether sure what they’re doing over there. They seem to be engaged in either a free-style public art project or some free-style insanity.

A sample:

Which of course means that now we have to kill you
Murder?
Mass grave
Exit stage right
Sing the last stave
Suicide pact for the dawning dead
Whisper the cats in the back of your head
Here is what you must needs do
Lose your humanity, join the few
Last light?
Dawn the morn, dead
Zombie cats in the back of your head
Sing the fish from the deep
With mouths gaping wide
They'll rip your guts
From out your side
And play with them like yarn...

I like it. Of course I invited them to the Cat Off.

It would be an interesting exercise to map the social rules of their, umm, project


* Yeah, I heard the groans down there in the back. You can bite me.