Callidus

This is not the blog entry I had planned to be writing but as someone much wiser than I am once said, life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans. A little over a year ago I came across a blog on the now-defunct Yahoo 360 by a woman calling herself Blankserena. She was a major hypno-fetishist and quite a writer to boot. Her posts were filled with accounts of her real-life trance experiences. They were very exciting to read but, for me, they struck a deeper chord.

When I wrote about her blog last year, I talked about how her entries were more than just something to get hot-n-bothered over. Serena talked honestly about spending money she didn’t have on hypno-fetish videos and mp3’s, letting real-life plans take a slide to indulge her mind control fantasies, and losing the man she loved because he didn’t feel as important to her as her fetish. These things spoke to something in the very core of me…because I understood them all to well.

Shortly after my blog post, we started talking and became very close as the months went by. We formed our own little support group; encouraging each other to do constructive things with our love of hypno and mc, like writing and manniping. And I’m here to tell you, when serena, mind control, and writing got together, good things followed. She (and I) was very proud of a script she’d written for Nikki Fatale called The Black Room. It was a theme she’d later explore in a story she penned called The Brainwashing of Nina; which, after me bugging her about it for two days straight, she finally posted to the Garden where it belongs.

We shared an intense love for film making, screen writing, and all manner of creative endeavors. We dreamed up main-stream film ideas with nefarious mc plot threads like all those tv shows that had kinked us so many years ago.We marveled at all the quirky indie movies that shared a spot in our dvd collections. We talked endlessly about television and the amazing writing that’s happening there right now. We wasted many Mondays comparing notes on the previous week’s episode of Battlestar Galactica and Lost. We brainstormed dozens of ideas for scripts that we’d write together some day.

When Erik came back into her life earlier this year she was so happy; she loved him so deeply. She was so glad to have another chance to be with him and I delighted in her joy. Unfortunately, it wasn’t long after that her cancer returned. Over the last several months things were getting worse for her, but our friendship was as rich and alive as it had ever been and through everything we always found away to get ourselves laughing.

The day we shared our real names with each other was a good conversation; lots of humor, some poignant realizations, and some very good advice was traded that day. The last time we spoke, although the it didn’t start that way, it sort of became our “last conversation” talk. We said the things we wanted the other to know, made some promises, and said goodbye. I remember thinking afterward that if it was the last time we talked, then we went out on a good note.

Earlier today, I finally got to speak with Erik who passed along the sad news that she died over the weekend. I don’t know if its better or worse to have a great deal of time to contemplate mortality; I’ve had months to come to terms with the fact that she was going to die. Today, I don’t feel angry, or cheated, or regretful; I just miss her. I miss talking about writing and directing with her, I miss sending photos with heavy hypno overtones back and forth (one of our favorite past times), I miss our conversations.

I’ve been thinking all day about what I wanted to say about her, how to communicate how amazing she was. She was the most unique person I’ve ever known. She was delightfully vulgar; she was ridiculously funny. She was wise beyond her years and, though she disagreed, she was always the clever one between us. She was much better at giving advice than following it herself. She was supportive, encouraging, and comforting. She was very talented. She was kind. She was braver than I will ever be.

Mostly, she was my friend.

Her name was Alina and I miss her dearly.

Goodbye ‘A’, I love you, and I’ll always remember you, and I will keep my promise.