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Sunday, August 27, 2006

Introducing Babyloni Yoni - Witch on the Run

As we join the story already in progress, Babyloni Yoni, our favorite Austin white witch, has suddenly found herself and her life slowly being whittled away. With a marriage and sanity gone south, she scoops up the babies and heads a different direction, away from Austin, away from Greenman (her ex) to a new, and old, home.


Chapter One

You realize pretty quickly that you are not in Austin anymore. This ain't Dallas -- heck, it's not even anything like Shreveport. I keep wondering what I'm doing here and why I'm in this handbasket. Down the road from my mother's house, there's a salvage shop and any day you drive past you are sure to see one or two of a wide assortment of Sanford and Son type junkers out there in the driveway. I guess they're dropping off loads of junk or having a brew and a marlboro with Sweaty, the owner, out on the sticky tar asphalt. Whatever. One night, I was driving and crying. I was bawling like a freak to the degree that I knew I was making the Laura Dern style ugly face from Blue Velvet (or was it Wild at Heart? I cannot remember... anyway). I'd had a nearly stroke-producing anxiety attack in the middle of the damn grocery store.

The sadness of leaving my husband and Austin is coming up in strange ways -- sudden geysers of unpredictable magnitude in the most inappropriate places. It was Walmart. I melted the fuck down. I don't want to shop at Walmart. Ok, for good measure, let me repeat myself:


But I was there anyway because I needed groceries and I went to the local Albertsons whose produce sucked so much ass it looked like a freshly fucked buttplug, mmmkay? Ok, so I'm thar at the Walmart and I lost it. I tried to call a friend. She wasn't home. I tried to eat a mother's little helper... no drink and too dry to swallow. When I finally got out of the fuckforsaken pit of plastic, my longing for my lost relationships, husband, home, city and life was so strong and overwhelming that I felt the pain acutely in my body -- even my uterus ached and the memories of living in this town years ago (in the same bedroom, even, which actually features a large portrait of me, round and fecund, he draped around me like a sexy man-glove) and growing our first baby were so physical.

I feel so pathetic, coming back empty handed in the husband department and strangely, I was tremendously sad about the emptiness in my womb which seemed to offset the emptiness in my OtherParts so perfectly. Oh, woest is me... I cannot see through the tears, the headlights of oncoming cars are like kaleidoscopic tunnels that wail a siren song of release and I hit the accelerator, crank the volume of the music... "Oh, tear it down/bed slats and all/tear it down/ if you catch another mule kickin' in yo' stall/ you gotta tear it down..." and consider deeply swerving, eyes wide open, into the pretty lights refracting off the surface of my tearwater. I didn't, obviously, but I felt the jolt of electric fear and adrenaline zipping through my roots and I knew I'd come close.

A few moments later, turning down my mom's street, I was rewarded by this little gem... at the junker shop, down the road, there was an unusually festive, heap o'shit truck; the sides emblazoned with the Texas and US flags, respectively. Dead center of the tail gate, there had been affixed a toilet seat. On the lid, in a mentally-ill-style font, in red electrical tape, is the following message:


It was like god herself came down from the clouds and whopped me on the cheek with her wise cock of glory. Suddenly, the dark sky cleared and I saw a shooting star. Off to live another day... preparing for the shit that is yet to come. Thar wraps up this week's episode of "Tales from the Incognito City Witch Observing the Locals Whilst Living Under the Radar." Tune in next time when I discuss "Therapy: To Go with One's Mother or to Run Like Hell?"

Y'all come back now, ya hear.
Babyloni Yoni is the swamp-born mama of two young goddesses whose names translate into "Life" and "Will". A genius waitress, professional kitchen witch and domestic goddess extraordinaire, Babaloni Yoni has a passion for irreverence and hooch dancing and she envisions a life of off-the-grid harmony. Currently unemployed, she spends her time in search of the perfect troubadour, playing house and lulling the voices in her head into submission with large doses of homegrown music and the powerful love of her family. She is part of an amazing community of mothers, artists, musicians and freewheelin' freaks who know just how much it means to have a crunchy floor and happy kids while simultaneously keepin' it weird. You can contact her via email at coriander_snake@yahoo.com

posted by Kim @ 11:45 AM  


At 7:05 AM, Anonymous said...

Nicely done, friend.

-sldcowen (aka "teh hag")

At 11:25 AM, Flaycreech said...

You are Awesome Babyloni Yoni!!! This is def ur niche. Love the storytelling, even though I know it's real for you. It's good to get it out, and I feel ya hun. Great Writing! JZ

At 12:05 PM, Lynda said...

Your words follow one another in a procession that slides right on into my reading niche. Thank you very much.


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