The Asymptotic Faery - The Writings of Allyson N. Jason

Current Mood: Introspective

What does it mean to be very human? How would we all look if we lived by our rawest behavioral codes? I notice that people are threatened by and very judgmental towards other who are “more human” than they are. I guess everything we do is human so to speak because we are humans doing whatever we do, but I am referring to “being human” as a way to describe a state of living in free expression of your natural instincts…no matter how odd they seem.

For example, I’ll get an urge to utter this nonsensical sound while sitting at my computer typing. It’s random and it doesn’t seem to many any sense…but the urge is there once in awhile. If I were in the room with someone else or with a group of people and totally expressed this, I’d probably startle others or make them think I was on something because it’s not kosher and “normal” behavior.
I sometimes get the urge to get up and let out a scream, get into a certain body position, moved my arms in a certain way, let out a guttural laugh or say a gibberish word or term that comes about from looking at an associated person or object. Some of these things relate to having synesthesia but I think on a basic level…they are still things that others might feel the need to do too. I censor all of these things when I am around people…because of course I’ve adapted to common social etiquette and I wouldn’t want anyone to perceive me as crazy, unpleasant or uncouth.

But what if we all just let go…lived in a state of complete natural expression and thinking? What would happen? Who would you be? What would you discover about yourself? How would society restructure itself overall? Would we develop a natural life rhythm as a social community?

I think we might be the only species that lives with censorship of our authentic natures.

I know I am not going to go out tomorrow and start behaving this way. My filters will remain on and I will continue to respect social etiquette more or less because I just don’t live in that kind of society but I still think about this from time to time. I also wonder if this makes any sense to others. I like to think many can relate to this and that everyone in their own way has their “weird urges” and impulses that they hold back all the time…without thinking…because we’ve been socialized.

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Current Mood: Introspective

There’s an image that keeps popping up in my mind right now; a woman with a see-through belly showcasing multi-colored layered sand art below two prominent tits featured as large bulbous fishbowls each filled with exotic, frenzied-swimming, darting, glimmer-eyed fish. I don’t see her head in most images, but when I do; her head is vaguely displayed as a spinning globe cocked to the side with a gold ring around it and a matching neck platform.

Maybe I should sketch this down in my sketch book. There has to be some message in this image somewhere as it keeps springing up.

I don’t see her lower body, but I am thinking that I’d draw them as two skyscraper-like buildings. From the feet (first floors) all the way up to the top part of the inner thighs are many stories or floors with stairways that lead one floor to the next. There would be little people running up and down busily throughout these floors constantly performing tasks.

The pelvis up to the lower abdomen, which is right below the sand art belly, would be a birthing factory of some sort. The sand that falls from the belly into the pelvis-abdomen factory would have divine powers that produce life. The sand periodically leaking from the belly area into the factory, like sand seeping into the lower channel of an hour glass, would produce hyper and purpose-fixated homunculi…

Each contributing colored layer of sand from the belly would represent a different vital ingredient for form whole bodies. The factory would incubate the sand mixture and in a certain time period eventually release a newly born but recycled humanoid. That’s where all those little people running back and forth in the skyscraper building legs would come from. Each person would have a maximum number of tasks to perform upon birth. As the last task is completed, their life span would end and they’d shrink and dry up into a sandy powder of diverse hues and textures. Another homunculus would come and perform a cleaning task with a ceramic container, broom and dustpan to gather up the sand decay and empty it into one of the many small escalator-deposit openings located within the walls on each floor.

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Current Mood: Introspective & Motivated

My favorite thing to do is to tell a story and to illustrate it in some fashion.

The art piece “Ginger’s Song” has gone through a lot of revisions. The character even looked different in the beginning. Not drastically so, but Ginger was less refined. I like that her features remain odd and characteristic so that you know that although she resembles a human, she belongs in the fantasy realm.

Ginger’s Song is a short story concept that I have yet to write. The story is about a young girl with a talent for playing the piano. While practicing in her room on her scaled-down piano that her mother purchased for her years ago, she thinks of a new tune that she’s quite fond of and wishes to try out on the piano. At first, the tune doesn’t sound right. Some notes are off and it’s incomplete.

When she manages to finish composing the tune, something very fantastical happens. One of the walls in her bedroom starts glowing around the edges and eventually breaks away completely to reveal a hidden world. She sees a valley of lush green rolling hills, marbled white fluffy clouds in the sky with a brilliant and crisp sun amid a pale lavender sky tinged with lemon tints and an inviting quaint little schoolhouse with children playfully running around on the grounds not too far in the distance.

Ginger realizes that this special song that she’s created is the key to this enchanting world. Anytime she wants to visit, she knows she can play her song, Ginger’s Song.

Although, I’ve decided to showcase my artwork here as well, more of my illustrations can be viewed at:

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Current Mood: Indescribable

As Patrick pulled up to the remote hospital near the outskirts of town, he noticed that the parking lots and the premises overall were empty. There was only one car near the front of the hospital entryway and it appeared to be an abandoned slick black Camaro. The Camaro had odd characters carved into the paint job and the tires were missing.

Patrick wondered if the hospital was closed. He also wondered what kind of hospital this was. It was strange and in a very remote part of town that he’d never been to. Why did his friend recommend this place to him last week? There was no one here. Could he even get in?

Patrick took his cell phone out of his pocket and decided to call Thomas. He wanted to verify that he was at the correct address but Patrick noticed that his cell phone could not pick up a signal. He looked again at the building through his car window and saw that the street address matched what he wrote down on paper.

1771.

He was certainly on the street of Uriah. He was on time for his appointment. He also knew that there was no other hospital around the area, so this had to be it.

Patrick decided to get out of his car and walk up to the entrance. As soon as he neared two feet of the entry doors, he was asked to insert his driver’s license into a nearby slot on the left wall for identification. This bewildered Patrick but he figured since he had an appointment, this might be the way that the hospital allowed certain people in during, what seemed so far to be, off-hours.

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Current Mood: Indescribable

Her honey caked legs ran faster and faster into darkness. The Madness crept up and bit into her arm. She screamed and spit up millions of lugubrious cherries.

These cherries were ripe and they circled around in the air creating a nautilus pattern. The pattern developed a tragic noise and that noise gave birth to shallow life forms below the earth who dreamt of stomping repeatedly over the heads of kingdom sized boys with no names…

In the kitchen he sat worried…waiting to lick her legs. He wondered if she’d be back….He had vanilla plans that would rip her tongue out of her mouth and splay it open to expose misty tentacles grabbing for serious life. Life that sexed death and death that loved nothing.

She came through the door with pomegranates lodged in her face. The seeds underneath trembled and bled and juice teemed in between the layers of her skin.

This juice jerked out of her skin and fused into a solid sticky form that stood in front of him threatening to kill. He would not urge but he wanted…

Madness loomed and the house folded into milky legs…they ran across perky terrain that epitomized flat dimensions…

In the middle of the road sat a bowl of fruit…an eyeball apple was selected and bit into by a hyper pigmented mouth. Visions were induced and fragments became depths…

Sugar crystals formed everywhere…

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Current Mood: Indescribable

She knocked him down and stared into his soul. He became restless and cried out for help. She silenced him…

Later on, her chair rocked while she sat but her legs were still and her arms folded. Her mouth was tight and pursed and he was mummified in front of the fire. The rug coiled back and forth creating paralysis between his eyes. *water sizzles in the back*

She got up slow but fast and hovered over him. Her smile widened and she revealed bloody teeth. Each drop of blood gave rise to an eye as it dropped onto the floor. Each eye stood flattened in its place lodged in between the surface and depth of the floor. Their stares were painful and quixotic.

He rolled over off the carpet and smashed each eye with his body. As each eye was destroyed, his pain became pleasure. He gained speed and moved toward her legs and feet. She kicked him hard as he came near and on the third kick he flew into the fire and popped into a bundle of pulsating veins of all different hues.

She, full of glee grabbed the bundle of veins out of the fire with her round golden arms and threw it onto the couch. There she sat back in her chair and it began to rock again…fiercely. Her gaze stayed fixated upon the bundle and slowly it reorganized and formed It.

It was volatile. It got up and lunged toward her and punched its fist into her forehead. Blood splattered everywhere and flesh flew. It grabbed her arms and tore them off with ease and threw them across the room, where they soon disappeared and reappeared in black and white. It grabbed her buttocks and peeled them apart until they split open completely and exposed the purity of her tail bone. It ripped the skin off of her fingers and stuffed it into her nostrils. It popped her eyeballs out and dug for syntax.

It stood in front of the fireplace, held its face and screamed.

Her torso began to slime and leak into the cracks of the floor. The fire turned green and its essence joined forces with It.

It was all over.

It was always there.

It will stay forever.

It was her.

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Current Mood: Indescribable

I peek into a room and there I see my sweet avocado soundly sleeping. She is tender and ripe but I must poke her as I am compelled.

I creep slowly up to the bed and dab at her belly. The flesh reveals a small indentation and slowly springs back up evenly. She remains quiet and appears undisturbed…

I decide to take a deeper jab and this time her skin tears open and rich green contents spill out…my sweet avocado is sick now. She’s no longer in good health…and she has been disrupted by discontentment.

I’ve caused her to bleed and while leaning over her, I look up at the ceiling into unknown space with glistening quivering slightly parted lips, close my eyes and visions of prancing haughty carrots, pungent empowering rolling onions and looming phallic cucumbers overwhelm my mind’s eye amid layers of fluorescent and acrid smelling smoke with fragrant sweet undertones.

They scold me and I begin to form round. My insides start to uniformly transform into a thick chunky bright red liquid. My screams are halted by the ongoing disappearance of my mouth. My mind remains conscious but my body continues to change.

I eventually become a reflection of my sweet avocado. I find that the world around me becomes exponentially smaller. I appear now in a cushioned delicate bed within a mysterious room featuring a cracked open wooden door. I soon spot large peering bloodshot eyes accompanied by a wide curious grin peering around the door. A being enters with long pointy shaky fingers and an arrhythmic walk.

I am now a curiosity and I am pressed lightly on the surface of my stomach. It tickles…but soon I find myself consumed by intense pain and coldness…an intrusion quite unexplainable. I’ve been pierced with a thick bony index finger and now my insides are spilling out…

Soon I will die and enter into the world of sick vegetation…and I will repeatedly relive this

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Current Mood: Indescribable

Resting beneath…he lurks
His eyes penetrate and wait for the entity of curiosity…

A little girl awakens and feels alive
She looks around in the dark and sees shadows
These shadows whisper into her mind and tell her to wander

She gets up quietly and floats to the woods
There she hears wind crackling, night creatures conversing
and feels lunar power

She explores deeper into these woods
and moves past twisted trees that hold
the mysteries and secrets
of nocturnal life

She feels fear but she feels drawn to him…
he anxiously awaits…

She moves into a cometary area…
the stench of lost souls and aged soil overwhelms
The fog dances around her and smothers her face
kissing, teasing, and tickling it

She walks toward a grave and glares at it
in the state of possession

Her body starts to feel cold and faint
Her vision begins to distort
and a blackened wet hand reaches from above the tombstone

A dirty gritty voice calls out to her
and beckons her closer
She leans in with sweat, terror and fascination
eyes wide as moons

She must see what is there
What her destiny must become
in her delicate white gown

The extension of the hand soon brings forth an arm
that begins to fold onto the hollowed surface…
another hand slowly pushes upward
and reveals a murky arm

A horrid head pops up with moist sounds
bulging gaping red eyes and an expansive grin
with sharp long gray decayed teeth
Moans of misery coupled with murderous giggling
submerge the atmosphere
and the wind begins to howl intensely

The trees seem to move and create a chant

The little girl becomes zombified and stares into his eyes
quivering and shaking
but still captivated

He rises up further to reveal a long snake-like body
with frenzied spider legs

He crawls towards her and expands his putrid mouth
spewing out hot slime that burns her skin
She suddenly snaps out of her trance
and screams until her throat pops
She coughs violently and spits out blood & fresh pink flesh

She no longer has a voice
but she begins to run
with all her might

He slithers after her
tearing up ground
splitting up trees
and ripping apart into a lanky human form
as he closes in near her domain…

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Current Mood: Introspective

I just finished reading a thought-provoking article on relationships and marriage at BlogHer. The blogger, at her site Everyday Goddess, stated that she believes that there should be a two-year rule for long-term dating before marriage. Basically, in two years, a couple should know whether or not they want to commit to one another in marriage.

I am inclined to agree with this, especially as one gets older but I also feel there are some exceptions to this rule. There are exceptions because some people might be dealing with several relationship delays. I responded to this entry by zeroing in on long-distance relationships.

I will write an entry for my thoughts on long-distance relationships and whether or not I think “they can work” since that is a frequent and hotly debated topic online but my response was more about how long-distance relationships were exceptions to the 2 year rule.

Although all relationships require a couple to get to know one another in layers, long-distance relationships  involve a few more layers and some different ones. There’s getting to know your partner on a day-to-day basis and getting to know your partner through distance. In the latter, a couple must implement more effort,frequent travel arrangements, directness and creativity than usual in getting mutually familiarized. It doesn’t replace day-to-day bonding, but you can still learn quite a bit and know your partner.

Anyway, this was my response:

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Current Mood: Introspective

Perhaps the trend isn’t so new in certain cultures, in some older generations and cases of estranged relationships between two people who stay married on paper and still live together, but in North America overall the trend of couples, living together either in marriage or a long-term partnership, maintaining separate bedrooms and bathrooms is steadily on the rise.

There are even marriage couples who are looking into buying separate houses, condos and apartment. The claim is that maintaining a good deal of personal space keeps a relationship healthy, symbiotic and enduring.

I am not sure what I think about this solidly. I know being in a long-term relationship (for two years now) with my fiancé, who lives in Canada while I live in the US, taints my opinion of maintaining major separate living conditions. The last thing I’d want to do, after the distance is finally gone between us, is to continue to keep that factor going.

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