A Live Conversation
The Crone's Canterbury Tale
10 Womyn
The Bet
The Bet II
The Bet III
The Bet IV








Interviewer asked the inevitable question, how is it that 10-womyn are living together? I guess I am somewhat responsible for this mad experiment.
"How so?" Interviewer
Well it began about Imbrolyg time; after rain clouds scurried; I decided I will make a film for womyn who in essence love womyn. Though I wanted the film to have a deceptive view of lesbian life with bits of raw natural tendencies lesbians have genetically developed their gifts (so only real lesbians and intelligent womyn may empathize with the undertones).
Little did I know what I was getting my militant feminist lesbian kind hearted self into when I recognized the green danger of being on campus early one morning. Too fuckin early; see folks I am not a morning person; not 3 am anyway.
Now I must show extremes, for it is an objective of which I am . Death. Obvious deal is Death is life; it is no wonder I discovered the counter reality to Death, which is Love who is Vicki.
Wow! First impression of Love showed me an inquisitive energy. Vicki chuckles when I tease how she conned me into the "love" appeal associated with life. Of course, I choose Death as my code name to antagonize her beautiful nature.
Little did I realize that my militant feminist hating dog men raging self encountered the most comforting smile from Love. She immediately took the posters in hand and nailed them to the Redwood campus central board cause I managed to pierce my index finger with the bloody nail. After cleaning the germs off, Love stopped me dead in my tracks with questions. Why is your name Death? May I please be in your documentary? She pressed. Unconsciously yet deliberately the stereophonic sounds rushing towards me - made me put my ear plugs in and motioned with my
finger to my lips for her to HUSH.
Death laughed asked Love if she cared to have some breakfast, so I may explain the process of this acute documentary. Redwood life along the shores of Santa Cruz gave a crisp breeze while we traveled half a mile to the local mom and pop diner. The diner kept Santa Cruz's mystique of tye dye immortality. I left to find a MoJo magazine and when I returned my usual breakfast lay before me. Staring and bewildered, Death jumped at Vicki. How did you know? Oh and I like apple not grapefruit juice with my wheat toast no butter, three bacon and home fries. Love grinned. Well confessional time dear.I watched you and recalled what you ate last Tuesday at Grub, the campus mess hall. Damn oh damn I thought to myself. What is Love after?
Finishing breakfast, I saw George peripherally from my right eye. Waved him over and introduced Vicki. Before parting and arranging a time to meet with Love again, Death asked know anyone else who is interested in allegorical lesbian beauty in the real world of my documentary. Fuck perhaps the whole deal was surreal; nonetheless George knew Ocean, an anomaly in nature and beautiful with a brain. Hmmm I wondered Ocean sounded essential to the essence of what this documentary may prove as soon Death organized brain cells.


Vicki mentioned living in Germany where mentally her backbone lived; when Vicki unintentionally left Varin's heart cynically scarred like the callused hands of a blue-collar hunter named Michael. Damn Varin missed her; she yelled alone in the dim red apartment. Maybe the neighbors heard her; ahhh like it matters now. Sedation sounds and feels damn good, but it is illogical. The blues are incomparable to spitting orange fireballs as profane justifiable words screech and tear while rolling off Varin's tongue because the pain her heart felt.
Varin faintly hears awesome conversations from worthy womyn. Still her brain is geared on one mind set right now; the power behind degradation and how fuck equality because just once she wants a man to feel inferior and depicted as shameful. She giggles in her psychobabble. Well now time is forsaken and womyn are kicking ass and smiling.
Haunting herself, Varin wished she opened her front door more often; yet her own inadequacies held her back. Timid perhaps but the true innate feelings transcended emotions that deceived and tarnished damn fast. Evolved in Varin's brain, she is damn afraid for playing a self- inflicting mental masochist role in order to sedate what she misses most in herself. Varin's truth hurts for she is demented and caring heartfelt golden emotions are not supposed to break her green walls.
Damn it she screamed to herself. She refused to feel anything because it neither in her realm nor her personality. Her dementia believed that to feel was inferior, and yet she knew that she must feel for it is just down right ignorant! Bugs even fuckin feel; the fact blood runs through their exoskeletons (even if yellowish green) --- it is a life form it feels.
All right so paranoia is a game I played. Sue me beautiful anger is reincarnating in my mind so that I can be the goddess of bugs; ahhh forget about it---it is too ticklish a thought.
Clouds are clouding my judgement and therefore I shall not consume the furry drug. Oh yeah the nocturnal alien bug from rain cleansed my surface space of complexity. Though Varin squashed the bug as love exits her heart. No! I am not comparing Vicki or any person of value to me to a bug; for bugs and womyn are too damn instinctual for survival, so the real worth of comparison maintained in strange psyches of Buddha.
Fact remains holy. Varin wanted an agape love for a womyn which amazes, intrigues, and makes the wonder of life; she must refrain from walking on air just to remind herself the reality that any love will obliterate if the threshold of hate seethes in the same blood you love.


Animal where is Dementia at? Tell me! I need it bad Rrrrrrrgggh. Don't be such a saintly bastard - Luna. Am desperate for Dementia to help me with my brain ache, yells Luna.
Take it damn it! Ruin me. Like you ever cared about my stability. I need Dementia more than bloody ..Sees how I cant even finish a sentence; Luna whines and lowers her redhead.
Shhhhh all right Animal not right now I think Death is sneaking up the oak stores.
How do you know, Animal speculates. Well the last time I had Dementia, she saw Death, sighs Luna.
Burning candle wax drip rapidly, and I fall into a blue trance and fidget. Animal laughs incorrigibly and shakes her finger at Luna; no I just think your fuckin demented.
Animal leaves and wonders and runs and manipulates her unconscious just to make the all might moon obsidian. Simplicity trapped naked within chemical compounds of volcanic glass.
Death naturally grabbed the sterling silver dagger and branded her left forearm. Strutting down into the red brick echoed basement searching for a bucket; out of the corner of her green eye; she sees red. Turned quickly and yelled:
What the fuck is wrong with you, Death? Why do you dirty everything? Clean the damn floor.
Death silently stared at her creation. Smiling making guttural noises-Death laughed and mumbled: I am Death that's what the fuck is wrong with me! I want to visually touch life, so hahaha, I spilt my vermilion blood and loved myself.
Joker tries not to listen and grumbles clean it up.
Suddenly Love storms down the busy stairs and hands flying want to know what is going on.
Clenched stained dagger in hand, Death stands grinning.
Joker giggling manages to spill that Death is up to her same old magic tricks. Love gives Death an eerie disapproval and warns Death not in the house.

To be continued.

* * *



10 Womyn