There’s a reason….

I’ve taken an apparent hiatus from the blogging because a lot of shit has been going wrong. As overjoyed as I a that my name is now legal and I’m on my way to finally getting my hysterectomy and vaginectomy surgery, a lot of other shit has been going wrong, like a harddrive imploding and needing cleanroom recovery (which I still haven’t the money for), and now the other one I’ve been using to hold music so that I can do my job as a goth DJ just succumbed to the previously-minor corruption I knew was already an issue with that external drive. As if that’s not enough, I’ve been really lonely, and all friends and “friends” alike really have to offer is contrived platitudes and a really insidious blame-game and ineffable failure to acknowledge that they’ve actually played a part in this — because, you know, fuck me and other disabled people who can’t do everything they can do, maybe we should all just stop being lonely and trying to burden others with expressing how they’ve hurt us?

None of this helps the fact that there are people in the polytheist blogosphere who that I like and whose intelligence respect fighting. It’s not helped by the fact that any logical look at all this shit reveals some people are forming sketchy alliances, at best, and others aren’t exactly helping their cases where they’re actually factually correct, to say the least, by refusing to counter allegations with facts, much less answering genuine questions about things they’ve said that could actually benefit for a modicum of clarification for those of us who are either new to these concepts or who just don’t “get it” on our own due to differences in basics of neurology making it so that we literally don’t think in the same ways.

I know I’m pretty damned far from a “big name pagan”, but I’ve actually had a few articles that I’ve posted to this blog cited widely enough on other blogs, including The Wild Hunt and a Patheos site or two, that I feel I should say something, but I can see where certain people on each side are coming from, in spite of what are actually very strong opinions and beliefs — but unfortunately, I’m in a position where my theology sees things one way, meaning I do identify with One Particular Camp rather strongly, and my politics sees a distinct and independent way, meaning that I also identify with Another Particular Camp just as strongly, but somehow I’m able to reconcile this internally, in spite of centuries of Western thought saying I should be conditioned to Pick A Side. I just can’t do that, because it’s just not how my brain functions; it is literally an impossible feat, for me, no matter how often I see someone who I love dearly (whether they’re fully aware of it or not), saying that they can’t trust those of us who can’t take a side.

Then there are Those People, as it’s been said in some corners, who are saying things and at least online-behaving in ways that remind me of Tim Alexander — remember him? That bozo who wanted people to believe that he was so “committed” to Hellenism that he churned out three books in less than eighteen months (at least one of which was about two-thirds appendix of public domain translations of Primary Source), filled three fora he ran with Google AdSense to help supplement his Avon Lady income (though it was basically an open secret that his wife was the household breadwinner), ran a blog filled with attacking at least one of Those People for a good two years, and then literally Shut It All Down from the Internet after he decided to run for local office? Yes, Tim Alexander, who appointed himself King of All Hellenismos, and Ultimate Decider of Who Is and Is Not True Hellenist, who would literally look for any excuse to say that Our Favourite Pagan Pope was somehow just another Fluffy Neopagan (which was one of Timmy’s favourite four-letter-F-words) and Not Worthy of The Gods. I am seeing Timthink being mirrored, and paired with aforementioned sketchy associates, it makes me more sad than anything, really. It just breaks my heart to someone, who I know is better than that, pull this shit because of what I keep learning (often from people who are still his friends though all this) is ultimately personal reasons that initially had little to do with what has since been spun into some kind of holy war that, five years ago, when Tim was spinning shit the same ways, was just laughed off.

I just find it harder and harder to come on here and write anything, in spite of actually developing as a polytheist philosopher of Erotic Hedonism, because the online spaces that used to feel like a retreat from stress are just another stressor, and I’d rather throw out ebryonic ideas for post-series Three’s Company fan-fic to Facebook status updates, because Jack Tripper and Janet Wood are so fucking in love through the whole nine seasons that we can all see why Three’s a Crowd failed as deeply as it did. And Three’s Company was stupid as fuck, too — true, as any show that lasted as long as it did, it had some moments of being genuinely funny, and the casting was great and made it watchable, but when the stories I make up in my own head are more exciting than the stories on the screen, it’s not a great show; maybe good, cos at least the characters are developed enough to do that with, but definitely not great.

Don’t even get me started on how I’ve rekindled my love for Night Court — of course, I may actually have a bit to say on that, at a later date, cos especially the early seasons hit a lot of appallingly still-relevant social and philosophical issues a lot deeper than the general weirdness of that show might suggest.

I can’t say when I’ll be blogging here regularly, again, but since I’ve managed to post at least once every four to five weeks this last few months, and now I’m getting a lot of things off my chest, here, it can’t be too much longer before I’m at least posting something relevant weekly.

I’m just so saddened by so much of this. I want things to do well; I want people to, if not mend friendships, or even get along, to just accept that this is more personal vendetta than anything Truly Important, in spite all of everyone’s airs, and stop fighting. Even on my cocktail of seven daily anxiety medications, I’m feeling all of this so hard that I would rather retreat into vintage television and cartoons than reach out to co-religionists and potential co-religionists through a medium that once felt so liberating to do so through, because I just can deal with so much fighting and other toxicity, and I’m so close to wishing I’d never even subscribed to some email lists on Yahoo eleven years ago. I feel it so hard in my gut, I’ve barely been eating beyond Metamucil, protein shakes, and sporadically gorging myself on comfort foods.

That’s how bad it is. It’s hurting me, but I’ve sworn to Eros that I have to start teaching in almost eight years, we set a date and everything —19 February 2025— and so shutting myself off from other polytheists is not an option.

I really loathe ultimatums, but you can choose to either make things easier for me to keep active with my religious community, or you can make them harder. If you value my friendship, I think it should go without saying which choice I’d rather see you make, but whatever you choose, it’ll let me know how much time I’d like to spend talking with you or reading what you have to say. It’s really hard for me to take your words seriously when you say you like me, but you’re now continuing to do things that, at this point, you know are on the verge of giving me stress ulcers.

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

It was meant to be

A friend of mine is childfree. He doesn’t want children for a number of reasons, most important being, he doesn’t like them. He made the choice some years ago (well, at least a decade-plus, now) to have a vasectomy. He has several members of his family who are very fundamentalist Christian, and believe it’s everyone’s good Christian duty to procreate, at least enough to replace themselves; whilst he and I have no issue with this belief, in and of itself, as long as people don’t try and push it onto the unwilling, but we both believe that it is, to varying extents, irresponsible to bring more children in this world than necessary when the population is reaching critical mass — but this is a philosophical point that is, of course, another story for another time. When he’s been at reunions with his family, there’s always at least one person who tells him that he’s going against “[their] God’s will” by having had a vasectomy.

Now, my friend, let’s call him Bill (it’s a variant of his name, though he doesn’t go by that), went out to have his vasectomy, but there was a co-pay on his insurance of a couple hundred dollars. He had no issue paying this, but they were going to send him the bill later. His bill never arrived, but the late notice to pay it, with late fees, did, so he sent out the cheque. A month or two later, he noticed that his cheque never cashed, so he called the hospital to see if there was a problem. The person he’d talked to said that their records showed that he’d paid in full, on time, and was actually due a refund for overpayment.

This is relevant, because he brings up this story every time a wacky Christian family member decides to tell him his vasectomy is against “god’s plan” — clearly some god or another had decided that Bill was correct in his choice not to put any children on this world, and thus offered to reward him.

Now, I bring up Bill because when I first started transitioning — hell, even still, my primary income is Social Security Disability Income (SSDI), and he knows that pays just enough to keep a person off the streets — if one is lucky to get even that much. When I first started, while he’d known for years that this was a long time coming, his concern was for my finances, so I pointed out several facts about my own transition:

  • Prior my chest surgery, my bra size was 38K. Standing at 4’11” with measurements, at the time, at about 62-28-38, this made them roughly the size of my own head. Medicare covered this surgery under a loophole necessitating that it be billed as a “breast reduction” and performed by a surgeon willing to do FTM chest recon whilst billing this as the essentially identical (save for the amount of tissue removed, the basics of the procedures are identical), but covered, procedure. I paid nothing out-of-pocket. Not even for my nipple revision
  • For some reason, Medicare was covering my ‘mones before Medicare officially covered ANY trans procedures. I still don’t know how that happened, but getting a ten-dose vial approximately once every other month, since October of 2007, my Medicare D co-pay had been $1.20/vial, has totalled $64.80 — this has been over the course of nine year, and he first brought up this concern to be about three years ago, when it had cost me a total of $43.20.
  • Over the last two years, I’ve also discovered that while Michigan’s legal name-change would cost in the area of $350, out-of-pocket, being a disabled person whose primary income is SSDI, this is covered by the State, for certain qualifying reasons — including gender confirmation. While I technically still had to pay the fingerprinting fees, my lawyer, who is doing this as a pro-bono assignment, decided to reimburse me the $15 fee out of petty cash.
  • About two years ago, Medicare finally approved gender confirmation procedures. This means when I’m finally up on the waiting list for my hysterectomy and vaginectomy, this, too, will be covered, as well as any genital reconfiguration I may choose, after that.

To date, I haven’t even paid $75 for my transition, even during the six or seven years, in theory, nothing was being covered.

I then reminded Bill of his vasectomy, and how, due to hospital error (and potential Powers That Be), he actually got paid to get it done. Since my own transition was carefully documented on government forms, it’s unlikely anyone will be paying me my $65 back, with interest or whatnot, but still, clearly this is something that –even at a time it “shouldn’t have been covered– I paid almost nothing for it.

He conceded, suggesting, “well, you being [polytheist] and all, there’s clearly Someone out there Who wants you to do this, so I guess I stand corrected.”

🙂

With all the talk of TERFs making the rounds in the Pagan and Polytheist blogospheres, again, I just hoped to add a positive story.

May Hermaphroditos, and also The Great Mother and Her consort, Pan1, continue to see me through this.


1: This is Boeotian tradition, not appropriative appropriative revision of mythology.

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

Shop has moved again!

Apparently, StorEnvy only allows a maximum of 500 items per shop, which for someone who, in addition to two novels, half a dozen for-sale paintings, an e-calendar, also has over 900 button designs up for sale, is unacceptable.

The Nocturnal Spirits shop on Etsy, as well as my OddModOut button shop, is now CLOSED! This is because of complete nonsense that I’d contest if Etsy’s listing fees weren’t eating 30-50% of my profits every month, meaning i was planning on moving to a different site, anyway (my original plan was to wait to do it until after I’ve moved in a couple weeks, but oh well….)

On the good side, I’m on Artfire, now, and not only are they cheaper (a flat rate in tiers, based on shop size — ranging from Free for only 24 items in a shop to $60/month for 2500+/unlimited items — I’m currently at $40/month for 501-1000 items, whereas on Etsy, I was paying an average of $85/month), they’ve been absolute dolls to deal with, so far.

I’m also allowed more than ten Shop Sections/Categories, meaning I can not only categorise all my buttons, but also have categories for my writing, music, and art projects without needing to set up multiple shops. It’s pretty much an all-purpose e-Boutique for everything I do, and I plan on eventually branching out into jewellery, beaded items, kombolói, and more.

Where this is especially relevant, here, is that I just noticed that they allow Digital media items for sale, as well, meaning anyone waiting for the next edition of the New Boeotian Calendar will definitely have a place to go pick it up! Because I’ll be moving very soon, I’m going to postpone actually working on the new edition until after I have the computer set up at the new place, but if you were hoping for it, that’s what’s up with that!

Until the new New Boeotian Calendar is done, and since the year is almost over, I’m going to post the current calendar for $2 (or $1.70 for other Artfire patrons/sellers)!! (The new NBC will be at the regular price of $4.) If you still don’t have a copy, yet, and you want to check it out before getting the new one, now is the time! I’m able to update this thing in less than two weeks, at this point, so you’ve got maybe four weeks, tops, to get this!

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

Selling my Hekate painting.

hekate

I can’t afford not to, and I’ve been given permission to part with it.

I’m asking $50, or best offer. It’s one of my favourites I’ve done, arguably one of my best, I’d really like $75, but I can’t afford to expect that much.

If you can’t PayPal, let me know, I can set up a listing on my Etsy for my art.

The other paintings previously posted for sale are all still available, as well.

All money from paintings sold will go toward the new apartment. I really can’t afford otherwise.

Please feel free to share this with anyone you know who might be interested.

(and cos i get asked this a lot, yes, i based my Hekate in this off the famous green-eyed Afghan girl.)

If you can’t afford a painting but still want to help out, I’m always taking donations:

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

It’s housing season!

First off, I know I’m not obligated to update my readers with every new thing that happens. Especially as I’m at a point in the development of Erotic Hedonism where I’m seriously going through a lot of learning and less talking about what I’m learning.

…plus, I’m working on a personal bargain I’ve made with Eros, Nyx/Aphrodite Melainis, and a Titaness’ Daughter, which I’ve been told will work to my favour within a year, but it’s very personal, and I can’t say anything about t here until it’s gone through, and even then, the less said, the better (but I’m sure some of you who actually talk to me can figure out enough on your own that you probably don’t need me to say anything, really).

Basically, I’d say more of my spiritual developments if there was anything I *could* say. The stuff I’m surrently at liberty to share?

  • my soul is VERY old. In fact, it’s a generally accepted fact that there are currently more living people on Earth, now, than there have been in most (if not all) Centuries before the 20th combined. The Newage “indigo children are precious very super-rare New Souls” bullshit is bullshit on that premise, alone. (Plus, I have it on good authority from one in the know that the whole Newage interpretation of “indigo children” is a warping of something written by a woman with synesthesia, and originally had nothing to do with one’s aura/soul/etc…) I’ve been told there are very few souls left as old as mine. I’m not at all surprised by this, since I’ve been told since I was a chid, by people who have even the vaguest mystical bends, that I strike them as having “a very old soul”. Granted, once people find out I’m now in my thirties, I’ve been getting that a bit less, but I’ll chalk that up to ageism. In short, reincarnation exists. If you choose the path of Erotic Hedonism when I’m at a point to teach in 2024, this is not something that can be budged on; you have quite possibly lived a life before this one, and we have to go through this cycle, again and again, until we stop fucking up — what that is, is different for everyone, but is directly tied to forging a path of one’s pleasures and passions.
  • I cannot cut my hair that grows from my scalp. I’m allowed to get the dead ends trimmed around the Boeotian New Year, but that’s it. This is not necessarily related to Erotic Hedonism. This is a personal directive I’ve taken from Eros. I’ still not entirely sure why, but I have my suspicions. I also haven’t asked, but eh, I will when I feel like it.
  • My gender has not been wholly “male” since I was about 30. It’s obviously taken me some years to pull my thumb out of my arse, but oh well. For about the first thirty years of my life, at least the years of that I could articulate gender to myself and others, I had a male gender. An effeminate male gender, but that changed a few years ago. I have, this last few years, been androgynos; literally man-woman, or simultaneously both and in-between. Or as much of both as I can be from a male starting point. Pronouns are still “he, him, his” (but if I don’t feel like correcting people, I won’t; and there are certainly situations or people where other pronouns feel more appropriate), and I’m still on my FTM HRT with no intention of ending it, but at some point, I gotta get the facial and body hair stripped (if only for my own sanity).
  • oh yeah, and remember my second kitty? She’s doing well. (Including this as a spiritual update, because a friend who donated the adoption fee said they had a spiritual push to do something good for an animal with their extra money that week. I now have two cats that spirits threw at me).

But now for a BIG IMPORTANT:

I’m in a real time crunch to get the security deposit to sign my lease on the new apartment.

Why do i need a new apartment? Long story short, the roommate who sucks sniped this place out from under me, and the rest of us are getting kicked out in late August. I’ve already found a new place, with new roommate(s) (one intends to be temporary, which is fine). The new place is two blocks from this one, and actually even closer to the Ypsilanti bus station than this place. It’s smaller, but it’s got hell of character, and I really like it. And the property and building(s) it’s in is 19th Century. Seriously, there’s the main house, and I’m in the “carriage house”, where you’d park your fucking horse and carriage. It’s clearly older than a car garage. I’ll be in the carriage house with my friend Jay, but one catch:

We NEED the security deposit by FRIDAY, THE 15TH!

I know that this is not a lot of time, but between my cats and my Etsy business, I literally cannot afford to be homeless/couch surfing. If I have to put my shop on “vacation mode” for more than a few days, I’m at this point pretty much guaranteed to have only about 65% of the money I need to get through a month. That is how important it is for me to stay securely housed and keep my shop open.

Unfortunately, my roommate-to-be is not currently in the most stable situation, but he has a mostly-functional care, and a few decent job prospects this summer. He’s also a DJ and freelance photographer I’ve worked with before, BUT unless you’re DJing a goth club in, like, Los Angeles or at WGT or something, you’re not making much money; you’re barely keeping yourself in cigarettes or gum.

So I’ve started a GoFundMe to raise the necessary money for the security deposit and cover the GFM fees. PLEASE, donate whatever it is that you can, or at least spread the link!

And special for this blog, to get myself back in a blogging habit, if you are able to donate $5 or more, I will write a 1000+ word article on a topic of your choosing *or* another 28 lines of Brother Love and Sister Strife.

Let’s make this happen!

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

Hedonist priorities….

Thoughts consume me, so I took put every variety of incense I own, libated some Perrier, and asked to use one of the bargaining chips I was offered at the beginning.

might seem petty to some, but the sensual feeds the ascetic. Inhn spite of some of the recent hardships, I am happier now than I have been in a long time, but last week reminded me that I missed something.

You see, the sensual feeds the ascetic.

I want this. I hope I don’t need reinforcement.

Beauty is pleasure.

Pleasure is wisdom.

To possess beauty is to touch Life.

I will pray daily for this, even after I have it, for it will be proof to me that Life has touched me and wanted me whole.

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

polytheist priorities

foodstamps001

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

Suckers gotta suck….

There’s one born every minute they say, and if you believe it was P.T. Barnum who said it, then you’re one, too.

I bring this up because sometimes the gods use that instinct of ours, the gut feeling to sypathise or empathise with other people, animals, plats, to make us do things that, if we really sat and thought about it, weighed pros and cons like responsible adults and all, we’d probably decide against doing because when you put it on paper, it seems like a bad idea to go forward.

Nobody ever did anything worth doing because they second-guessed themselves and decided against doing the thing. Many of us just exist because we do that until we’ve managed to talk ourselves into a merely adequate life. Adequacy works for a lot of people, a lot of people are perfectly happy with that kind of life, so the reasoning that keeps them from doing more is actually good for them, because deep down, they don’t really want more, and that’s OK. But what of those who have simply trained themselves to accept adequacy, really aren’t happy with it, but have been beaten down by so much for just long enough to convince themselves that adequacy is “what is best for them” simply because they fear the prospect of failure? It’s really kind of jarring to think about, but it’s not necessarily why I bring this up, though who knows what these events are laying the stones in a path toward?

On 28 February 2015, I decided to be a responsible adult. I loaded up my shopping cart with the recycling, wheeled it down to the drop-off station less than half a mile from the building, and I figured “hey, it’s not even 3 o’clock, yet, the bus is going until 6:30-ish, I’ll go and get some cat litter, I don’t think I have since late December or very early in January. I’m up and about absurdly early for me, might as well be a responsible adult.”

I had no idea what I was in for.

I did this expecting to do nothing more than buy cat litter, so I wheeled my shopping cart over to the bus stop, and got off at the Arborland plaza to get my Blue Buffalo cat litter from PetCo (it really is my most economically sound option, by volume, and it’s so much lighter than clay!). Sixty feet, or somewhere in the vicinity of that from the PetCo doors, I saw the sandwich sign; I couldn’t read it yet, but I’ve seen that ding-danged sign and others like it before, I knew what it meant: There was an adoption event. I was going to walk right in the door and see a gaggle of poor babies, cats who’re currently being fostered, some with just terribly heartbreaking stories.

Fuck.

I really didn’t think I needed that. Plus, since tradition is to pull this shit on a Sunday, I had every reason to assume that i was safe from the poor homeless kitties.

Being a sucker, I told myself I was just going to take a look, maybe pet someone or two, and then get my cat litter and get out of there.

Ha!

Her name was Phoebe. She was huddled up in the tiny litter pan that they put in the crate, and so stressed that she was projectile shedding into the next three crates over, but I read her little story on the sheet clipped to her crate. She was likely abandoned (like my Nigel), and she found a nice person (read: she found a sucker, just like my Nigel) when she was very pregnant (like my dearly departed Vermin, who died January 2013 of cancer in her jaw, before she ended up with the rescue group), but the kittens were stillborn due to her being only about 7months old and malnourishment from either extreme neglect or prolonged time on the streets. I started talking to her and she looked up at me and got that squinty, slow-blinky face when a cat is content and trusting.

Her foster lady was there. Phoebe had been in foster for about two years because she just stresses out so much at the adoption events. I was literally the only person who’d showed serious interest in her this whole two years.

Now, I’d been kind of toying with the idea of a second cat since about December, when one of the roommates decided to do the exact opposite of addressing her cat’s emotional needs and shut that poor creature in her room 24-7. The reason being that her cat is so neuroticly fearful of other cats that Nigel literally can’t come within eight feet without that poor cat going ballistic — this is not an unworkable problem, but locking up a cat in a bedroom 24-7 is kind of the exact opposite of addressing the problem; but if you ask Lois, the “reason” is “Nigel attacks Cleo”, which she can’t even say, cos just being in the same room as these situations doesn’t mean that she really ever watched what happened, like i did (and trust me, I once sat in the upstairs bathroom for two hours to watch what happens with Nigel and Cleo — Nigel has never “attacked” another cat without provocation in his life, Nigel was hunted by my friend Scott’s cat, Chunk, who is barely 2/3 his size by weight and literally driven under a chair by her for three days, he also was the only cat at the Ingham County Humane Society’s low-cost neuter day who wasn’t screaming bloody murder in the waiting room, AND he also loves playing with kittens at the Ann Arbor Cat Clinic while we’re hanging out an extra 10min before the bus comes back; I know everyone thinks their cat is perfect, but I think in Nigel’s case, he’s pretty damned close). So later in December, Nigel had no other cats to see, not even highly neurotic ones who pee all over their person’s bedroom making the whole upstairs reek, and he started getting *annoying*, to the point where I could barely work, even on the days the seasonal depression wasn’t so bad, cos I was the only social outlet for this poor beasty, and I was just barely mentally able and hunched over in pain cos below-freezing weather always seems to make my back worse. He was so happy when we lived in Lansing and he had his little friend on the porch who’d come in for about 5min a day to play with him. But I had to think about actually getting a new cat.

I went home and did the maths, and Nigel, on an average month, costs me only about $30-$35, and I figured a second cat would bump that up to about $50 per month, which is totally workable for me (especially cos I’m kind of ridiculous in that I’ll willingly do without so that my cats won’t have to). Then I just needed the adoption fee.

That was when a friend involved in New Orleans voodoo told me that they got a sweet payout on stuff and felt compelled to help an animal and offered to PayPal me most of the money I needed to adopt Phoebe.

So the gods, the universe, and everything pretty much threw a second cat at me. At that point, I couldn’t say no, could I?

Phoebe and Nigel have been playing together since Thursday afternoon. It’s kind of awesome. They haven’t made a kitty pile, yet, but I’m really glad that my little boy has a new kitty friend.


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About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

on a more personal note (for those who don’t watch me on Facebook)

I am no longer with WCBN-FM.

I am, though, now a DJ at WFKU.org. We can use your donations far more (as we don’t have the backing of the most expensive public university this side of the Mississippi covering what donors can’t), and also advertisement.

If you go to the website, you’ll see there’s already a flier up for my show, including a monthly showcase.

It never ceases to amaze me how the gods provide. 🙂

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.

They know not what they do….

There’s a situation that’s being discussed on FaceBook that absolutely flabbergasts me.

Of course, the most confusing point of all is finding myself in the unusual position of actually being more in-the-know on this matter than about half the people commenting.

Unfortunately, that’s about all I’m at liberty to say *right now*, but I assure you, it’s relevant here.

In happier news, I’m now officially on the schedule for WCBN-FM in Ann Arbor, MI. This is still a volunteer position, so I’m going to be pitching my Patreon like woah, but if you have any suggestions for musicians I can get promotional copies of music from, let me know! I want to put a focus on Gothic rock, Australian Swamp, and pagan darkwave.


As an aside, my cat has a wishlist. Go get him some prezzies!

About Ruadhán McElroy

Ruadhán has been a traditional Hellenic polytheist for about a decade, and has also maintained devotions to Eros and Apollon most of that time; his status as a devotee of Nyx is more recent. He also paints, makes music, makes jewellery, and writes novels set in the Mod Revival (UK) and Swampie (Oz) subcultures of the 1980s. He also gets a lot of odd little experiences that he jokes will forever render him an insufferable Goth.