where are you from

the kids were a bit cranky today

the end of camp time, summer time, the time for innocent silliness, rising to meet them - friday to be precise

when did being a kid become so serious???

anyhow, my friend told me to be online i have to establish some cred

you don't know me from any other raving stark mad mutant musician walking through walls out there

so here goes, in yuppieland i think the question du jour is WHAT DO YOU DO
it occured to me watching the guy in khaki sweatshirt at the bus stop this morning rubbing his two pennies together nervously while asking the pretty russian lady with the four five bags jostled around her that around here, we mostly ask as a way of breaking the ice WHERE ARE YOU FROM

k, maybe start there, Awen...

yeah, that's really my real name. not used to this public to the whole wide galaxy disclosure thing, so i'll just start you with my first and middle name: Awen Mihir

that right there tells you plenty where i'm from.

mom and dad are kinda of hippie gaelic pagan. santa cruz. grew up mostly thereabouts. don't have much to say about my parents except you should know they emphatically did NOT do lsd - way too synthetic for them if you get the drift. they went right to the roots, man. herbs. mushrooms were big. you'd think they'd invented the printing press when the book, The Sacred Mushroom and the Cross came out

it took me maybe all of six years of age to realize that i was trippier than they were. AND more mature at the same time. since that time i got lost when i separated from the other kids at the sarah winchester house.

mom and dad were babysitting plenty of neighbor kids that field trip (some kind of rotating coop thing so adults didn't croak from responsibility of juggling so many delusions and diapers).

it's no mystery why kids under 9 years old aren't allowed in parts of the mansion any more. kids can still see what they see.

that's a long winded way of finally coming around to fact that i certainly don't feel i fit into my hometown. so it doesn't feel right to spit out Santa Cruz when someone asks that proverbial question where are you from.

bloodlines mean less and less to me every single dreaming and waking moment.

this is where my soul lines are from:

"In the hollow hills of Ireland, in the lacy margin where the Atlantic tide touches the shore, on the islands just beyond sight off the western coast, lies a country invisible to most human eyes, a country called Tir na nÓg - the Land of Youth. Life in this Otherworld flows and eddies much like life in Ireland, except that to all of the strife and clamor, love and jealousy of the mortal world is added the shimmering loveliness of the fairy realm." - from Étaín

where credits due...Yoshitaka Amano