for Jane,
for my sisters

Jules International
1997

The WWW Edition
1998

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Printed copies of the original version are available

Tonight was billed publicly as "Oriental Night", but that was really only one level of theatre, the 'theme' put forth to the patrons of the Babble-On Spa and Clinic (heavy on the clinic). This would be PRIMAL KNEAD's annual 'waitron' event -- the evening in which the meal is served sit-down rather than buffet style.

Time was already well askew -- it was a fine midsummer evening as we held our 'morning' circle, followed at dusk by a fire ritual in remembrance of our dead and a gentle 'full moon' circle ritual (only five or six days late) centred around a beautiful juniper that Claude B. Had uncovered and reclaimed from the surrounding brush. But enough was enough; people did want to eat before midnight. Jules and Wild Eagle had prepared the sushi and oriental noodles: the prophylactic plastic between the 'kitchen' and the eating area had been raised; the medical cart was stacked with 'pills' and syringes; the waitron nurses had put on their uniforms, including their latex gloves; the plastic cutlery and paper plates were stacked and ready; and like a preboarding call for the infirm and families travelling with children, the most outrageous of our 'patients' was being strapped into his bed as the banging started on the door. It was cold, it was late, and the faeries were not going to wait any longer for their dinner!

At the door each patient was issued a name bracelet before entering. As they entered, they were dazed with a cacophonic chorus from behind the plastic curtains -- an interminable, chaotic drone of blah blah blah's (maybe then the cover of the gathering call began to make sense to some?) punctuated by medical techno-babble. The 'sanctuary' of Amber Fox had been effectively transformed into the asylum of the Babble-On Spa and Clinic.

Like the old idea of an all-fool's day, or feast of the asses, when the outcast buffoons are let back into the city and made kings for a day, at which point they proceed to mercilessly satirize and ridicule all that is normally beyond reproach, the faeries seemed to instinctively understand "The Clinic" as an opportunity to question every proscriptive value we claim to uphold. Once again, theatre and ritual had become conscious tools for shaping the `meta-narrative' of THE FAERIES.

I wanted to thank you for your enormous (ahem) part in making Amber Fox so much the experience I needed.

Anyway, my outpatient therapy is going fine although it is hard dealing with this crazy world.

Hope to see you soon