for a birthday

Fey Jen Gray from far away
knows the stuff that you can't say.
Zombies, mummies, robots too
monsters me and monsters you.
She spins it all for monster soup
  bubble
    bubble
   bubble
           gloop.
Monsters in a monster jam
It is what I am, I AM.
That's the spell of fey Jen Gray,
glitter gun from far away.

Scribbled, growled, and photographed on the occasion of Jen Gray's birthday (she's the smiley seated one). I like looking at these images from the deck that night in portions. How everyone is clustered, connected by hand or glance or grin, as they always are at Squam by the Sea, steeped in the collective exorcism that comes from sharing what you are while receiving the same of others. Plus monarch butterflies.

The trouble with believing yourself a monster is that you're so consumed with your own horribleness that you forget the horribleness of others. Ego tricks you into thinking your failures are extraordinary. When a Jen Gray reminds you that we are all monsters, the compassion that you've got for the monster sitting next to you can only make sense if you turn it to yourself as easily.

This is what followed strangulation and riptide humility. Constriction and release. Pixie headbanging to Journey while holding a sleeping infant. Amy's hand grabbing mine. Everyone tangled up on the biggest couch you've ever seen and a mangled plate of cheesecake and Maya's typewriter clicking. Walking in the dark, shooing away the crabs with Billie. Safety on the edge of a dangerous sea. With grits.

There's more on the experiential glitter gun that is Squam by the Sea here. It's a video I shot while I was there, or better put, we worked on it together. Paint-hands. Getting dirty. That's what it was.