Mollie Ann Baker – BALD JASON'S GAY GOTH BOY BLOG

I slept well again, thankfully. I didn’t go to choir last night. I had a bit of a headache and I’d already been out and my stomach was iffy. I did get some packing done. And I sent a digital copy of Caitlín R. Kiernan’s The Drowning Girl to my new friend Linda. On the one hand, I think that Linda might love this book, as I do. And on the other hand, I know that sales help Kiernan, who is struggling to pay some bills right now. So this seemed like a good idea. I love this book so much and I’ve probably gifted it to at least 7 people over the years, which is not something that I typically do. I’ve given copies to Mollie Baker, my sister Janice, my ex-gf Jennifer, my cousin Katie, Aaron has listened to the audiobook. I’ve also recommended it countless times. I know my friend Isaiah Pittman is trying to read it. It’s so inventive and it moves me, and if I like you, I’ll probably recommend it to you. And anyone who loves the book might want to check out her collections, “To Charles Fort, With Love” and “Houses Under the Sea”, which both feature stories that tie into the novel. There are likely others, but I’m kind of pressed for time at the moment and I don’t want to ramble for too long! Suffice it to say, that if you’re reading this – and I honestly don’t know that anybody actually is, then I highly recommend The Drowning girl and Kiernan’s work in general. You can find more of her work on her Amazon page (which I don’t get any money from – I just think she’s worth reading) and I’m sure there are other links that would help her even more. I should just ask her.

And it’s the morning of a travel day. We won’t be leaving the apartment for about 4.5 hours; we like to get to the airport a couple of hours before our flights, just in case anything goes wrong. Our flight to Orlando boards around 5pm and we should arrive by around 9pm. Then it’s about an hour to our house. And we’ll likely get inside, try to get settled and go to bed soon after. So, hopefully I’ll be in bed in about 12 hours.

Today’s song quote title comes from “He’s Gone” by Saint Etienne, from their 1994 album Tiger Bay. An acquaintance of mine with really great taste in music, Steven Rink, posted this song on Facebook when he was moving from New York to the West Coast and it’s been stuck in my head ever since. I’m not headed for the West Coast today, but I’m leaving New York and so it felt appropriate.

Girl will finish drowning
for the seventh time in four years;
she must be pretty adept by now.

Each She is a fragment.
Each fragment is a piece of Mollie.

Mollie Ann Baker is an imp
who’s initials reveal a faerie queen
beneath the glittering surface
of Tennessee water that her people
refuse to bathe in.

The water spills
out of a holy well which,
when penetrated deeply (and wetly) reveals Tam Lin
in all his naked transformative glory.

Hold tight to that one
and he’ll give you the happily ever after
you’ve been waiting for,
or so the minstrels say.

He always slips through my fingers
when he recognizes me as the Dana to his Zor,
primed for immolation; devastated to be losing me once again.
Thrice damned. Forever haunted.

Faerie Queen Mab (M.A.B.) doesn’t actually
hold the prince as prisoner;
not for love & never for sacrifice.

Blood Queen is happiest in the embrace of
ocean smelling mermaid ghost werewolves,
twice devoured by terrifying thing
beneath what is seen by the sane and the deadly dull.

Mother and daughter,
frothy creature is beautiful, sad,
not entirely human (if at all).

My Mab could teach her a few songs, I’m sure.

My Mab is more than human,
extraordinary beyond us all
and yet sister to worlds within worlds;
she holds us all in her ginger wreathed
collection of dreams, nightmares and visions,
gives us meaning, laughter, mirth
and a sobering empathetic sorrow
that we might appreciate the solace
found within her coils.

Mab, beheld is a monstrous beauty
which wild with grief for events still to come
still gives precious smiles…

And when lucky mustard seed bottle cap talismans
shatter the glass to be pocketed like coins —
with that much luck and a fire of bones
‘neath lilting pipes
on nights when the Unseelie Court
dance naked round Old Oak’s Children
of acorn and water lily…
On nights such as these
our Mab may summon her human type voice,
call through the wires to shock, bless, talk
of when we were once human together
in Michigan type semblance of life.

Lucky am I
for recognizing the wonder
that so many mistake
for imagined mysticism.

M.A.B., My Mab, My Mollie, Queen of Faerie, Sib of my heart:
Bless us all with a sea siren song of words through thine art.

Written by Jason Wright
July 31, 2017

For Mollie Baker

Tag: Mollie Ann Baker

“He’s Gone”

This is She