I am 100% Creative. I follow my passions: Conceptualizer, Professional Storyteller; Published author, NYS Certified Drama Teacher, Teaching Artist of Theater Arts, and Creative Writing. Arts organizer with an entrepreneurial spirit.
G. Hastly Grinn invites you to tale telling of a spine-tingling type at Washington Irving’s Sunnyside in Irvington, NY, the last two weekends of October.
Take a tour of the romantic cottage and grounds of Washington Irving, America’s “Founding Father of Literature.”
Then, unsettle yourself down while Master G. Hastly Grinn (and friend) weaves haunted Hudson Valley lore with a wink and a wicked Grinn.
Show Dates: Saturday 10/22, Sunday 10/23, Sunday 10/30
A program ranging from tales of Poe to tales of Woe
From the depths of the Louisiana Swamps to the American Plains
A Cat from Chelm and a Vampyre Unknown
Book Now
We’ll Find Out What The Dark Night Brings.
Please Contact Stuart regarding booking dates and pricing at:
stuart.nager@gmail.com
We apologize, but we are not offering programs for Children under 18 or for families this season due to the Halloween themes. They should not be present in the audience.
All bookings must include a $200.00 deposit (no less than two weeks prior to the performance). Deposits are non-refundable if the event is canceled 48 hours or less.
The remainder will be paid to the performer before the show commences. This is non-negotiable.
Fairy tale skin depicting scenes from a life not well lived. Agony assaults all altruistic attempts. Nothing is an infinity stretch of trying, wanting, desiring, keening, knowing the life holds little to no meaning. It never was meant to be.
Elbow skin slides, forming a tattooed landscape on elephant hide. Among the folds, the hills and valleys terraforming the landscape, are glimpses of the wrongs done. To you. By you. Instilled within. The held hands drop away, the fluttering blood pulses quell their rush to stillness. It feels like death every time a new scene appears. It is an eternal mourning of being left. With yourself. Only. Yourself.
This is the middle. The beginning is brighter, but still holds its shadows. The pain tries to darken the light, gaining some ground until a retreat is sounded. The true essence of smiles, laughter, playing around, being astounded, learning; they are all there. Hold to them.
The end is different. The middle’s grasp is cavernous. It eats away, eats away, eats and eats until a void claims its place. It doesn’t have to be this way. That is known. It is not accepted, but it is.
I created and host A Prompting of Writers group on Poets and Writers Groups. The sessions take place on Saturdays, 10:00 am to Noon, EST/EDT. The group will remain remote: today there were members from Germany, Thailand, and coast to coast across the US. If interested, visit pw.org/groups. It is a Host platform, a Virtual Remote platform, and has an extensive amount of resources available.
The above is from a prompt challenge that I generated. I write day of, after I’ve presented the prompt and challenge to the attendees.
The prompt was “Fairy tale skin depicting scenes from...” Lyric from Bad Karma by David Bowie.
In full transparency, I detest WordPress’s “new” Block format. I do know that there is/was a function for Classic Editor. It has never stayed IN Classic Editor for me, reverting far too easily to this horrid block editing style. This is my opinion. If you like/love it: enjoy. I don’t. Please accept that.
I am looking for a new home for Tale Spinning. Just haven’t had the time to do the research to my satisfaction. Unless the Powers That Be of WordPress can wave a wand and fix this, I doubt Tale Spinning will remain hosted here after the New Year.
LookSee what I hold in my handsNot a full something, yetUntil I name it. Until it is named.What I call is will make it realBalancing the name,Carrying the name,Wearing the name,Becoming or disavowing the name,Until, eventually, forgotten,It falls apart from memory.LookWhat I name it has it's own powerBe it meek and mildor strong and fierce The naming carries weightAnd what I give it nowWill last a lifetimeAnd maybe moreIt will be up to the named.LookBe witty or obtuseSymbolical or Syllable drivenContrived or BiblicalNew Aged or TraditionalistWhat is named becomes realThe reality is completeThe character is yet to be setWhere do we go from here?
You took my hand
You took my mate
I was used by all
Now just full of hate
Won’t bleed no more
Can’t bleed no more
I bleed for me
I bleed for my
I can not cry
No outside tears
I look away
While you destroy
I bleed for my
I bleed for me
I bleed for my
I bleed no more
You can not take
From me no more
You tore and rent
My soul is gone
I bleed for my
I bleed for my
I bleed for me
I bleed no more
Ground into the dark dirt
Ground into the mud
Ground down by the boot heels
Ground down in blood
Ground into the nothing
Ground into the sky
Ground down by the awful cries
Ground down in blood
You took my hand
You took my mate
I was used by all
Wrote you a love letter
Then tore it up to bits
Took the shredded pieces
Threw them in a pit
Setting it on fire
Watched the passion glow
Each piece flared from another
The flames of nevermore
Wrote you a love letter
Knew I would not send
Wrote you a love letter
Sealed it with my blood
Stood there with the ashes
As they crumbled away
The wind sent some flying
Forever out of reach
The seasons took the rest
Let it slip away
Walked away in silence
Left behind a stain
Wrote you a love letter
Knew I would not send
Wrote you a love letter
Words etched in my head
Wrote you love, and
Sealed it with my blood
Woman meets Woman. Women split. Misdeeds and transmogrifications happen. Women become one. ℵ2+. Time is a douche. Love rules. The end.
What was this all about, Stu?
In the end, Love. You may argue this, but for me it was about Love. There are many interpretations of Love the emotion and Love the word. Then there is a sliding scale for every iteration. Love astray. Love together. Love.
Add Love with: Existentialism + Nihilism + Greek Mythology + Block Universe Theory + Quote: “Time is liquid. One moment is no more important than any other and all moments quickly run away.” by Kurt Vonnegut + Quote: “Time is an illusion” by Albert Einstein + Time Conceptualization & its relation to what we’ve been experiencing in the last year plus + the quotes I used, all picked out before I began the challenge + Philosophy + Physics + Math + Assorted Doodads =Liquid Time.
No animals were harmed during the writing of Liquid Times. No drugs were a part in its evolution.
My experience(s) with Liquid Time
I put in a shit-load of research, playing around with (and still hating) the formatting of the “new” WordPress Block Editor. And, of course, writing the darn thing. I gave myself many stress headache moments, simply because I am a Pantster and write my A to Z post ON THE DAY as the letters roll by. I usually have Story Beats/Story Spine floating somewhere in my mind, but as the characters & plotting develops, I may end up in a whole different direction. 2019s A Car In the Woods (Science Fiction/Horror/Thriller, 27 posts) is a prime example of that. I originally planned 26 separate flash fiction pieces on the theme. By D, I dropped that idea as it became a larger whole story.
So it goes.
Liquid Time was unlike any other of my A to Z’s in that I had NO CLUE what to do with it. Time has been on my mind for a long while. That was the starting point, and my meandering tangent mind went where it went. I also knew that this needed a very different approach in how I tackled the subject(s). Plus, I needed to really challenge myself in writing style(s); I started to feel I was getting in a semi-rut. As I was discovering the story along the way, I pushed myself even harder.
Tales of Tale Spinning will bring you to a listing of my previous A to Z worlds. You’ll get what I mean.
As to the overall mechanics of Liquid Time:
The color blocking (or with specific words/concepts) are all related to the normally accepted meanings of those colors. Slight variations occurred as needed: Red could be anger or danger. The context around it drove the interpretation. The colors themselves will most likely need to be excised if this is to be taken further. I am thinking on what to change and how.
I choose to work with the line verifications (left-middle-right) with a variety of thoughts: POV change, dialogue without the “she said/he said” designations of who was speaking, change in the style (prose vs pinprick, almost bullet-like, actions/thoughts), free-form poetics, and one or three other things. You might realize that I do not like conjunctive words and did my best to minimize their use.
The formatting on this drove me crazy. The Block Editor of WordPress (great horror story title) that I hate with a passion. The inability to highlight one word or idea without the entire block changing really threw me for a frustrated loop. Same with adding color to one word/name. Couldn’t do it as a whole.
A lot of my “choppy” lines were forced on me due to this not being really user friendly. Probably the only positive out of this whole formatting mishigas.
As to the rest: I know that Liquid Time was challenging to read. I did my best to reincorporate things I threw down. The big one I never came back to was the Snow/Ice demoness from the first of Janaculum. If I DO return to LT, she will definitely play a bit of a larger role, in a way. Does the letter K connect anything for you?
Also, If you’ve read my previous work, you should know I’m not a big fan of spelling everything out. I enjoy books where I have to dig to get it or let my interpretation be and move on. Cloud Atlas, Ulysses, and other books anyone?
I saw by stats that I had a decent readership with a larger reach than last year. Yet, I had a HUGE drop in comments after the first five posts. I know I blew it on my blog hopping and I plan to rectify it. Liquid Time was too much, at Times. Pun intended. So, pretty disappointing, but as Lou Reed sang at the end of Perfect Day: “You’re going to reap just what you sow.”
Bottom Line: will I be back for next year’s A to Z? I plan to, but who the heck knows what the frig I will be up to in 2022. So, most likely yes. Maybe. Probably. We’ll see.
Time will tell.
What’s A to Z April Blogging Challenge Got To Do With This?
Created in 2009 by Arlee Bird, the A to Z Blogging Challenge has united hundreds (thousands?) of Bloggers throughout the Blogaverse. If you blog, you can join & post 26 times during the month of April, beginning on April 1st and ending on April 30th. Sundays “off” for good behavior. I’ve been involved with the challenge since 2011, not participating a few times. I’ve been introduced to many bloggers whom I may never have come across without the A to Z; many I can now call friends. There are too many to link to at the moment. Look at the commenters from April 1st forward on Tale Spinning. That’ll be a good start.
Arlee has had a semi-rotating team of amazing talent surrounding the event(s) and the site(s). They all need a big hand of applause. This year, his co-host team has been: J Lenni Dorner, Zalka Csenge Virág , John Holton, Jayden R Vincente , and Jeremy Hawkins . Please click on their names to visit their blogs. To find the other bloggers who participated:
I am most likely moving Tale Spinning to Blogger by the end of May. I’m in the setting up phase, doing my best so it looks and acts like I’d like it to. Tale Spinning Redux. I’ll announce when the time is right to end my time with WordPress and go back to Blogger. Gotta figure how to link up all of my work here to a new hosting site. Not today. Headache arose just writing that.
“It may be that our cosmic curiosity is a genetically-encoded force that we illuminate when we look up and wonder.” Neil deGrasse Tyson
(ZV) is connected with life, love, renewal, death
(ZV) is connected with flow, expanse, beginnings, endings
Zehara and Valentina are connected
The confluence they went through began with pain
Their unity is love, necessity, sequential, non-linear
(ZV) rests with thought of
THE GRACES
(ZV) stretches across the realities, fulfilling their role(s) in the supreme balance. Aware, there is a continuous exploration of all they’ve become, the endless wonders, the ethereal-astral connection that is now their existence. They float in the balance between the goddess and the god. (ZV) has evolved into Order, meeting Chaos on an even scale.
Janiculum is their place of rest. Every iteration of the city, the land, the peoples, the fauna and flora, is (ZV)’s place of rest and love.
This observance takes place in a Janiculum at the height of it’s health, beauty, and fortitude. Here, the Gates of Prógramma Spoudón are appointed with a vast array of gems. The light, of Sun, Moon, or Fire, pass through the facets and spread beams of color over the city. Golden silk streamers wave along the thoroughfares, a greeting and a farewell in any direction spent. The winds are always gentle, the waterways run pure, and the harvests are always rich.
(ZV) entered Janiculum as their goddess Alcyeyx. The winds tickled her unbound hair, tossing the multi colored tresses into patterns that matched the hues of light sent from the Gate. Her laughter thundered as she came to the parade grounds. She would never miss this celebration of the bounties of the land yet to come. The goddess sang and the people voices were harmonious. She danced with freedom, decorated the harvest poles, and collected all the love that swirled around her.
At the fall of night, (ZV) left the city through the Gates, still glittering in the moonlight. On the other side, admiring the heavens, Valentina and Zehara walked over the grassy fields, to finally lay at the base of the Oracle’s Peak. As fertility stroked the minds of the city, Valentina made love to Zehara, which was equally returned. They no longer needed to sleep, but the closed their eyes in memory, bodies entwined. They consumed the other with eyes shut.
Both knew that this would be repeated forever in its placement of time. Valentina smiled at the thought as she raised her upper half and rested on forearm. Her purple/black hair fell over the shoulder, her breast, and pooled onto Zehara’s chest. Zehara’s reddish brown strands spread around her. She began to twist and play with Valentina’s hair.
Valentina leaned over, gentle breaths mixing as they kissed. Their lips did not part easily.
“I love you,” said one.
“I love you as well,” the other replied.
Together, they did not have to say aloud:
“Always, and forever.”
They were gone with the rising of the sun.
“The main thing is to be moved, to love, to hope, to tremble, to live.” ~ ~ Auguste Rodin
My “Reflections In Liquid Time” will be posted on Tuesday, May 4, 2021
“Both in thought and in feeling, even though time be real, to realize the unimportance of time is the gate of wisdom.” ~ ~ Bertrand Russell
“The Lotus opens. Movement from earth, through water, from fire to air. Out and in beyond life and death now, beyond inner and outer, sense and non-sense, meaning and futility, male and female, being and non-being, Light and darkness, void and full. Beyond all duality, or non-duality, beyond and beyond. Disincarnation. I breathe again.” ~ ~ R. D. LAING
Paris, 16th arrondissement, le restaurant de l’Hôtel sur le toit vide
In every form of communication: “This is a beautiful view. So many beautiful views.”
♁ Ananke is a whisper without sound. She is. (ZV) acknowledges this forever knowledge. They revert to two, standing on a rooftop over Paris, lighting on other vantage points across the universes. They are among the cosmos. Limitless. No boundaries.
There is nothing outside of the box if there is no box to begin with.
Zehara and Valentina are tangible here, as they are elsewhere. Their essences remain connected, corporeal or not. Wrapping arms around the other, foreheads touching, breaths mingling, all lasts infinitely in the fraction of that second. They know the “why here?” before the question forms between them.
“This is where we first met,” they absorb the words in unison. Ananke, Necessitas, Ge, the Mother, allows the countless stars to lighten the darkness.
“As it was meant” fills any void.
The rooftop unfolds as it was: café tables, the mosaic tops iridescent waves of hues of blues and golds balanced on wrought iron Art Deco curlicues, red leather chair seating at the tables and for the chaise lounge settees. Gold thread embroidery traversed the fabric. Fine crystal flutes at the ready filled with sparkling champagne of prime vintage. Vegetarian Aperitifs strategically placed, the colors complimenting one dish to another.
Valentina.
Valentina was the guest of honor at this soiree, lauded for her breakthroughs in Biogenetic Engineering. Every government wanted her. She forced a laugh at every bon mot, listened to and fobbed off the enticements, both scientific and sexual, and was thoroughly bored. Funding was a core ingredient to continue her work. Valentina was tired of being brought out as a gift to be bid on. Exquisite as the champagne was, she only sipped the first hour of the evening away, looking for an opportunity to leave. A spilled drink near her, the endless apologies, cleaning of the stain on her dress that was invented, was her chance. Her chance.
Zehara.
She came late, her entrance marked by the flurry of paparazzi yelling her name, the model of the moment. Zehara was weary of this game, being seen to be seen. She accepted the invitation only with the caveat that this would truly be a closed affair. Champagne in had, Zehara ditched the executive she arrived with, wandering the roof, taking in the panoramic view of Paris. She allowed herself to slink into the shadows, loving the absence of demands. Another was the center of attention. Zehara relished that, for once. But not for long. She grew deathly bored.
Zehara, full glass in hand, was making her way to exit the engagement. In her path was the honoree, surrounded by a pack waiting to eat their way in. She hadn’t paid Valentina much attention, but now. Everything changed for her. The attraction was magnified beyond anything Zehara had experienced before. One step, and Zehara faltered. Valentina took notice. She was in the process of taking in the wonder of Zehara, a rush of empty lust washing away her normal reticent ways, when the champagne made a splash.
They ignored the chaos, walking as far away from the clashing as they could. As they made their way to the roof’s railings, their hands found the others’. A now empty settee caught their eyes. Zehara broke hands, sped to the seating, and turned it so that Paris was fully before them. Hunkering down on the settee, doing their best not to be seen and interrupted, Valentina and Zehara began.
“This is an appreciation, a thank you,” a vibrato from Ananke, primordial personification of compulsion.
(ZV) held themselves tightly. Turning to the manifestation of The Mother
TRANSITION
IS
Time continues to scream
Time continues its fragmented shrinkage
♁ Ananke Is
A wavering, touch like, and Time is stilled
(ZV) is in attendance
Another entity as well
Ananke
Khronos
Time holds them all
Life is sustaining
A mewl of confusionweighs heavy
Something new, for the constant Time
♁ Subvocalizes
we wereONE
Khronos. Ananke.
progenitors at creation
that had existed, is existing, will exist
we emerged self-born
formed the ordered universe(s)
set in our tasks
of Time
of Life
of being the cosmos
Yet
a divergence
an expenditure of Chaos
a swelling of Entropy
an order corrupted
the continuum of Time
became a corruption of Time
destruction amplified
erosion amplified
deaths deaths deaths
fell before their
time
this was Ragnarok
which never was to be gained
the final destruction
was upon ALL
my worlds
my creatures
my planes of existence
I
separate entities
Khronos applied Death
at a rate I could not change
we were in balance
were suppose to be balanced
existed for balance
I was not enough
JANICULUM
“We were created. Z in the Pod. V at control”
Statement
“Yes”
“You mixed with the extreme radiation. A fusion of Life”
“Yes”
“From our meeting?”
“From the first seeds of unbalance”
“To disrupt Time”
“Yes”
“To weaken Time. To permeate Time. To bring Life into Time’s equation.”
“Yes”
“And to bring and emotional sequence that Time never held”
Silence
“Truth: were we ever really in love?”
“Yes”
Quiet is sustained.
The other is still there but not noticed.
“What of you, Gaia? Are you unbalanced? Have you undergone a parallel disrupture?”
Silence
“If we are a counter point for Khronos…we are, yes?”
“Yes”
“What is yours?”
Into the void, the other makes themselves noticed.
Silent Khronos extends to (ZV)
“They are my balance beyond Khronos. You are Time’s balance beyond Ananke.”
Tale Spinning 