terrible typoed text-to-speech while walking peppy

The tuss and tumble of two chickadees twittering twirling twisting as one in the scrap grass in the dirt in that little block of green brown green by the sidewalk in Spring Green Spring Green ground spraying inside lock screen twisting tumbling as one twisting curving Trent twirling twin twisting testing twins turning am I watching them fucking is this fun or ugly? Are they happy that they know that? Do they know that? Chickadees may be chickadees it’s fun to say at least. And the green spring birds flying one to as one to anyone birds to as one.

In the street on the concrete in the green brown spring and the green springs, the right angle in the road flag place down stands up blaze down the flag at squirrels tail that’s all there is to for the flag waving up and down goodbye I don’t know what to ask for anymore. Forgiveness? Or rage?

I used to ask the roadkill ghosts for their forgiveness and their aid. i used to plead. i used to tell them they’re beautiful they’re beautiful I’m sure they know. i used to tell them I’m sorry I’m so sorry you’re beautiful please forgive us please help us.

Then I felt we didn’t deserve their help. Haven’t they given enough? then I asked for their rage I said rest in power. I said stay hard. I said stay angry. I asked for their fire.

Now I don’t know what to ask can I even ask for anything? What do I think I deserve? Why do I think I’ve done for them? Just my little prayers. Why do I think they want my little prayers? How much is a witness? I see the squirrels now mostly. It’s a shame that they survive this winter only to be smashed into the street. It’s all a shame. I am ashamed. I see in the street everything to me I worry that used to live at used to run it and breathe. For a long time I started saying my little prayers before I even got close enough to see The for her bones. For a long time my eyes were playing tricks on me. I would think I saw a corpse but it would just be a blown out tire. It would just be shoes. For long time still I’m tense at any object in the road. Sometimes it’s just leaves. Now I am wondering about what vision so I’m singing with signs. I’m wondering aren’t they all aren’t they all corpses? And leather of the shoe from some unknown cow? Whose hands crafted this blood went into the machines that built it? What plants what fiber? Isn’t everything deserving of a shrine? Isn’t it all made out of death? Now

Now I don’t know what to ask for. I don’t know. when I’m driving down my normal road between my walks to different dogs and in the middle of the street is a flag waving and the flag is attached to the body Evelyn wants squirrel and the flag is a tail and it is waving, I don’t know what to ask for. You are still beautiful. You were always beautiful. Your rage or your forgiveness, they are not mine to ask for.

Everything a corpse. Everything I pass on the street, on the walk, of course. A corpse. I find it hard to look. Whether it’s TRASH or a body I find it hard to look. Here is coral baby in the middle of the alley. Mouth open eyes open holes. The Gloup and gloom of rot rotting flesh. I force myself to look. I don’t know how to see this. I don’t know how to on see it. Everything is baby, as Kathleen says. These babies gone sour gone sallow, these babies no mothers no homes. Who will care for these corpses in the street in the green brown spring in the green and brown dirt? All the watches over them is rubble. Is 10 cans is plastic and Styrofoam is melting cardboard in the rain and the sweat in my heat in the sun and then she mentioned that heat of the spring time sun coming down green brown coming down. None of this is words I’m writing none of this this is significant kind of power this is a new kind of poem One that lies one that speaks lies. I knew kind of boring told out loud told unwell. Maybe I must learn to enunciate or else except what I get from my mouth to this mouth no hands problems. Pepe is ready. Pepe is always ready and always has been. Petty is baby

if it’s two mirrors, one is round. But it might be none. Done I don’t know about the stop and start stopping while I’m still talking why do you do this to my phone. I have the urge to rhyme when I’m speaking this way. But it’s hard to make that rhymes with the lips and say. It’s hard to say that rhymes out loud if I want them to stay. Rhymes with speaks are stupid now. Rhymes with thing. Rhymes with fingers make more sense. and with fingers make more sense if this thing will ever actually seen saying what I want will keep recording the words I’m saying then here’s all the planets your girls this year it’s more of a tear drop Van Ness fear. I must learn to enunciate I wonder I wonder will it hear me better if I’m saying in clever??? Will it hear my words more whatever let me know my cards for her words.

chords

Do you know me better there? Do you think the clever?

Peppy I Am Merely (Nearly) Human

last night all night

ahere i go sneaking again
in my own home!
starting to feel okay again
now that i have a purpose with a pen
not a pen but fingers and keys
never learning aim to plesae
stomach sick stomach sore
boring boring boring bore

the point is. the point. the point is.
i have a fucking problem with codepenancy.
it's true and it's sick and i fucking hate putting tihs on you. i feel disgusting. i feel like trash. i don't kow how to get rid of it. i don't kow any way back.
i can't be good enough for you.
the last few days - since you dyed your hair - you've been so happy. so much yourself. so alive. lifght. i can feel myself draining you. i can feel how needy i am. how i've been draining you all along. how now that you have filled your cup, i am just sucking at it, leeching away. i am the toxic one. i am the crazymaker. i am everything i didn't want to be for you. for anyone. i am fucking up over and over and over i have no idea what to do. i say "i need to get back in therapy" i've been sayign it for months. but what the fuck do i tink that's going to do
?! it won't fix me. i won't be better for a long time. everything is wrong. i am way past broken.
there's teh light flicker of a tv on in somene's bedroom window, second floor. there's a light flicker as the bugsppass over the lamp post lantern light. the soft shiver of the white crepe myrstle????
i have been forcing you to worry about me. giving me your energy.
okay i guess not forcing but ..... i fel manipulative. i feel like a wretch. i do not feel like a beauty maker. i do not feel like a lover. it's me, i am the toxic one. i am the one who hurt me. it's me, i am the cycle.
why do non-tobacco cigarettes always hurt more? why does it seem like they burn the tongue annd throat instantly, and almost anything is smoking one too fast? is the power of nicotine just to make you not feel those things from teh cigarette? is that all teh drug does? the magic of fire you can't feel. is that why we love the spell?
mayhbe there's a thought there but it's half baked. half cooked. pathetic. like all my other thoughts. wasted. useless. goner. overdone. halfdone. undone. never nothing. none. shut the fuck up and go home. a meager image, a stale old bone.
what the fuck even now you are trying to rhyme. why? why? why? justkeep fucking trying you piss of shit. what the fuck do you think is gonna happen. something ? no. NO. you will always do this, nothing but this, nothing but piss. just drivel dripping down your fingers. just empty weary letters wither. disgust. disgust. distrust. no. no. no. no. there will never not be nothing. there will never not be garbage. there will always be you, sucuk in this body in this mind in this hell of repetition and forever gross forever ghsot. new? something ebtter? something different


i guess i messed up in the dark. what teh fuck else is new. nothing.
forever forever forever just tihs. forever my whole deal taking a piss.
why did i think i could have your kiss
why did d i think it would be different than this.

why did i think i could be better
why did i think we could better.
why didn't i know this is always the way it's goin to be no matter what and forever.
stare at the leaves and see teh summer
something is coming and something's a goner.
nothign sallow wilting longer.
help help help help help
my rhyming father's daughter
my crying mother's daughter

do i actually feel high from this fucking cbd shit
wahat is the damn deal
i smoked one of these hemp-ettes
and now i feel a i've drifted
what and were does my mind go
is it because i've told it so
did i malet teh tether long
did i wish i'm made of song
yes forever yes forever yes
my voice has flown out of my chest
i wish it would i wish it could
but nothing better beter best
nothing beterer nothing yet.
my voice is stuck in tiny humns. my voice melodies writ on rum. my voice the pieces silent sung. my voice a kite that's too far flung.
slipping away sickly slidde slipping slide away
healing nothing healing fine
burping along to ninety nine ninety nine
whipser
nienty nine
hehere
hear
here my heart is beating fine
why can you see only rhyme
when will i better will i different
never, honey, lay down in it
do i even care what i write?
dthere's nothing here to hate or like
whydo i think smoeking this is a good idea
who saidanything about good ideas
NONE nothing NONE nothing NONE
why do i think i'm worth a some

pillow fader pillow farther
little later little longer
but just good get gone now you
but a sling sucks to your shoe
nine and nine is mine and crew
slick pea sweet knee not this goo
why do i why do i why do i do
where do i go if not with you
just chug this beer and let's be done.
why is ihs my only rhyming SCHUME. SCUM.
i'm sick of this i'm sick of it i'm sick of this i'm sick of it. type type type. why why why. bleed it out until you dry. OH MY GOD PLEASE HELP WHY IS TIHS MY ONLY RHYME. WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY WHY.

if i felt kablooed after that first smoke, look how i'm gonna feel now. am i gonna be enough for just one beer? what am i gonna need? how do i fuel this fire? how do i stay so dire?
i womdner why i'm herein this rhyme. i wonder what happens, every time. how di get here. why do i tryl.
STOP. okaoiwh
oh my god. help.
really i'm stuck relaly sreally relaly.
what does that?!?!?! is it booze? night? ocd brains? the rhyme the RHYME it won't let me stop. i'm trying hard to stop the clock. OH MY GOD am i though?
?
okay
is it just that i'm actually relaly distressed about something and i don't know how to write it real. is it that i still can't express how i feel.
HELP.
i think actually yeah. it's just a bgi distraction. the way that lplaying a game on my phone would be. or scrolling or something. it's teh instant grafication.
i haear a crackle in the yard nearby. will i spy a new fried or will they wander by?
a leaf and cracke. a rustle sigh.
how much moves your body in the window?
how much meter memory do most carry?
why does that even pretend to matter. stupid.
why can't i shake these stupid sentence structures.
i just want to go somewhere new but i' stuck i n sthese fuckign rhymes. i'm so mad. i'm having to fight.
aoeg
maybe that's not what i get from teh night.
maybe this is just my plight.
OR
GODDAMIT
MAYBE TIHS IS the distraction the ultimate distraction from myslef. talk about compartmnetalizing goddamn. talk about adhd. talk about gone forever away and a day. talk about no.
talk about you were just having this important realization when you went into crazy rhyme dumbass land.
you are a drain on your partner. you are stifling their energy. you love each other. you are full of love for each other you. but you are demanding too much energy. too much time. you are being codpenedent as fuck. you need to learn new pattern.s you need to unlearn tehse old patterns. can you do it while you're in a relationship??? (can you do it when you're NOT in a relationsip?)

i just got stuck in spell check for 300 years. thatnks keyculator. i mean i do appreciate that you have the capapbitly. you're a good guy. you know that? a real good guy. glad we came out tonight. good going, us.
DID I NEED TIHS? can i continue to pretend that i need this? how much more do i need? how much do i need now? how much am i gonna dneed again? why does booze work like this? WHY DOES ANYTHING WORK LIKE THIS. i get real good then real grumpy when i dont drink. just like i get real happy then rela sad when i go off antidperessants. except booze is a depressant. so shouldnt i just stay happy. what. i want more. i'm grumpy that jerel drank my second to last yueng ling. i get grumpy when they drink my booze, even though sometimes they buy it for me. i never drink theirs. (but i rarely buy theirs. except i buy it when we're out of the house. and i buy other stuff. but they buy stuff. why am i worried about his this is so stupid. )
i just want one more. but there isn't one more.
r

remembering body, remembering music. dance. what a thing. what a feeling. how much i imagine and make into small moves. is tihs the big thing???? maybe the moving body can create music and words and pictures together - maybe better than movies. what about it. you never liked light. go to the stage.
but gotta say tonight's meeting felt pretty okay. despite all this sadness despite all the mess business i want to make myself be, tonight's meeting was. well. now that i'm looking back-- good. i really appreciate the group that was in the room - kind of a bwierd bunch together. i love that. i LIVE for that. basically gender segrated, as almost always. oh well. the circle round starting from the southeast corner, coming counter-clockwise - ben siler, brett, me, jerelle, sarah r----, elizabeth, court. a lot of people who don't know each other that well. this is what i wanted. this is what i always want. i want to see these people become in rooms together, become twosomes and threesomes and genius poly configurations that make the thing happen. i want to see it all happen. that's always been my job. let it be my job. let me not be anxious and let me revel in my job. let me just bring them to the ground and let them build the mountain. HA what a fucking egotist. what a piece of scum. what a nightmare to work with. what a selfish bitch. what a hohohohohohoag. hoagie.
i'm having another one of these weird green fake cigarettes. the one with stars in their green butts. i dont even.
i didn't even buy my plane ticket tonight.
i didn't apologize to the people i should.
i didn't say thank you.
i didn't make plans.
this stuff i'm smoking it again teh green one. it's stronger than iwould think it is. that is to say, YET AGAIN, that cbd does stuff to me that i don't expect. i think - it's not weed, it won't get me. but it do. my head feels foggy and my ovaries feel tight. wind whistles through the spiny trees and flies friends to the night. the pollen falls around my feet, in my hair it lights. without their pollen we haven't got left anything too nice.
haha it's good to write bad rhymes. but yeah. done with that. FOR NOW.
wouldn't it be better to dance tho.
wouldn't it always be better
i've been doing yoga for a few days HAHA look at me pretending like i'm doigng stuff or making habits with this stupid few days bullshit.
suddenly (ha really?) feeling suicidal. what did i do this time. what would i ever do different. haaaaaaa what a nightmare. what aa joke. never will i ever
i expected this lil weed seed baby smokey treat to be the calm kind, what i get from my own herbal rollies, or at least the fearsome fire of a tobacco style smoke. instead i get the woosh brain smooth smallness that i associate with my weed panic - is it just my association doing this? or am i allergic to the wrong part of the drug? everyone else says this stuff doesn' fuck with their heads. okay okay.
WELL
i wasn't supposed to write about htat
i'm saying
i am gonna buy that plane ticket tomorrow.
i'm gonna talk to donna.
it will be okay somehow. for now.
ha.

even my cat is judging me!!!

I HAVE TO LET MYSELF HAVE WHOLE DAYS JUST FOR WRITING

keyculator affirmation defense

4/1/19 - fool's day.
my good mood swift swung sour. what did go wrong? working through the artist's way, i am supposed to write out an affirmation about how i am a real and good artist, and then write out all the negative feedback that my subconscious brain sends back to me. this is at once easy and hard. as i get going, i think of more and more awful things i tell myself, i fill a page. it's really putting me into a bad mad sad mood to be tellign myself these things right now-- they really do work!! and now the book wants me to flip each of these bad "blurts" into positive affirmations that i am from now on supposed to say to myself every morning. ugh. this afternoon i cried aka my throat closed up every time i tried to read through the affirmations she has just in the book - i deserve a rich and fulling creative life - etc. wuff. who says?? so yeah this is even harder. i'm stalling when court comes in, i'm trying to explain how i can't just write the 100% opposite of the bad self-talk and she says why not? and why not try it? and i'm saying because i don't want to and because i don't care about that stuff and it does't mean anything to me. but i'm getting defensive and she's like maybe this is why you need to do it, and it's just making me more irritated.
(as i'm writing this, it's making me feel like there is something here related to my general dislike of white woo women and their homogenous ideas. what if everyone really did walk around saying "i belong here" and "i am perfect as i am" and bullshit like that? what if we were all that entitled? what if everyone thought/felt the same things?)
((is this a real fear? am i just being defensive? am i actually wrong? does everyone belong here?))
so i'm using these examples with court - the first one is all the way made up but it does sound like what i would do. if my negative belief is "i'm ugly" i don't want to say "i'm beautiful." instead i would say "i'm bringing ugly back!" to me, this is powerful and real and motivating. why? because i don't care about beautiful. ugly is awesome. i have written a lot about that already, how i want to "reinvent what ugly does." but this example doesn't work for court.i try again, with a real one from the loony bin when that asshole gave us CBT worksheets.
"i don't belong here and there's no place for me in this world" becomes "CARVE IT OUT!" again, this is empowering to me! motivating! YES i have a goal and something to do! a VISION! (i need to have a vision to have a reason to live. that's quite motivating in the loony bin.)
she says "why don't you just say 'i belong in this world' because you're a human and you do belong here?" and this makes my skin crawl. but, being me, my hackles are raising up and my eyes are dancing and my thoughts get fuzzy and i say-- who knows what i said?! i'm in serious defensive mode here. i am physically feeling it. it happened so quickly. now that i'm writing this all out, it feels like it makes sense and i can logically answer what i couldn't say to court 20 minutes ago -- i DON'T think humans automatically belong here, or that all of us do, or something.
oh yeah, i said something to her about, to say "i belong here" would be like saying "the world is fine and i'm fine in it" and she says no it's not the same. and i say actually the world is garbage and it feels bad to say it's fine. and she says the world is not garbage. and i say okay well the world isn't inherently garbage but we sure have fucked it up.
i don't know. maybe we have teh same ideas but different ways of expressing tehm.
or maybe what i was saying didn't make sense at the time because i'm not good at talking, but it makes sense now and there's nothing wrong with my take on this affirmation exercise. (i do feel a lot more calm now.)
OR maybe at heart, i'm just a pissy middle schooler reading adbusters and bitching about the system. a debbie downer. nothing is ever gonna be good enough for me. my ideas are not fully formed, my perspective is miopic and closed. (is this true? i think that's how people see me but it's not how i see myself. because i do see beauty. just right now, i look up at my wall - the true cost of coal poster from the beehive collective - and i know that i am right - or right with myself, that is. right to see the world as sick. right to be dissatisfied. to feel like positivity can be poison. but also i know there's magic and renewal, despite how broken our culture is. to me, the poster is screaming "CARVE IT OUT!" just like i want to. visions of a new world. i don't want to say "i belong here" when "here" isn't home. i don't want to let go of my visions. i imagine myself saying "i belong here" and "i deserve to be here" and i feel my Self fading as my future visions die. i can't imagine holding both. how could i say that and hold the gate?)))) where were we with these parentheses.
the other part of it, i am now realizing, also has to do with my "weird" thinking about humans and bodies and death. i've already lost a way to say it that makes sense. but it's related to ghost life.... "i" is moving. "i" has died a hundred times. we can say that, we've seen it. "i" belong "here" is......?
i don't kow where that was going. maybe it'll come back.
anyway before all this. this is what always happens. it takes longer to recount the event than it took to happen. why do i bother? (i used to love this so much, when i blogged. it was so important to me to catalog. is it meaningful in some way? or useful? i can't imagine. maybe one day it will come in handy for something.)
so court and i had this conversation. i got real worked up real fast. defensive - not mean - but "intense" morgan would say. my thinking is unbending. these feelings are big for me. and then court left awkwardly and i'm just falling falling into my grouchiness and disappointment. i feel like SHIT partially from writing all these awful "blurts" that feel really really real in my body as i write them. and then feeling as if i have to defend that i'm doing the affirmations exercise THE WAY I WANT TO DO IT rather than the way someone else wants me to. (it doesn't even say in the book that they should be the exact opposite of the blurts! i feel like court was putting that idea on it and i didn't like how that felt.) geez it feels so much more clear now that it's written. i guess this is why i do this.
so yeah. that all happened. i was defensive for reasons taht make a lot of sense. things escalated quickly because i was in a vulnerable state. and i felt like shit. i didn't know what to do. i asked the tarot, am i being a big dumb baby about this?
(Was court right that i was being stagnant and unbending in my thinking? was she right to judge me for hating positivity? am i actually blocked in this way? is there something wrong with not feeling comfortable saying affirmations like "i belong here" and "i am clever" and "i have original ideas" etc??)
AM I JUST BEING A BIG DUMB BABY?
(shuffling, the deck cuts itself in half, with three a group of three cards turning away and out to me - i only see first one on top but the whole group is talking. and opposite, the bottom card on the top half of the cut deck, the ace of cups reversed. court just got this card as well. DUMPING out. letting go of emotion and energy. goodbye.)
7 of pentacles
daughter of cups
the magician

7 of pentacles is a very neutral card, only black ink and no living figures. just lines, seeming to go on forever. the pentacles connect the lines where they meet in right angles, in a diagonal across the card. this card is about work, its unending nature, but having teh ability to step back and see the big picture. look how far you've come. it keeps going but you're doing it.
maybe a neutral reflection on what has happened. looking at yourself honestly. that's more important than judging yourself as a baby or not. are we making progress? can we still see ourselves? (wondering when i started referring to myself in plural all the time when i'm writing. it makes so much sense always, especially writing because it feels like channeling - or bringing together parts of myself that are disparate.) (that's teh other weird part of "i" statements - how can i act like i am one thing? maybe i can't say "i am beautiful" because part of me never will be and never wants to be. maybe part of me never wants to belong. does that mean i am broken? sick? do you know how it feels to be sick so long? how you spit on my progress with your pressing?)
7 of pentacles is netural reflection. looking back in order to look ahead.
page of cups is a favorite card - truthfully, i love all the pages, but of course i have a soft spot for this swan, and her rainbow shadow water. yes her SHADOW self is rainbow and she's delighted in exploring it. the simplicity of inspiration. the simplicity, honesty, of real raw emotions. first thoughts, first feelings. the wonder of the world. the rawness.
(this is something i don't want to lose. again this gets me thinking about the homogenous Woo cloud. or any sort of homogeounous culture stuff. and yeah i don't want to "belong" if it means i've gotta twist my ideas to your standards. no thank you.)
THE MAGICIAN. my power card. my dream archetype. this one is especially important to see. hi hello you can be in your body and in your power and access the infinite universe and also be fucking strong and staunchly independent and grounded in your worldview. or - willing and open to change, looking for action and new ideas - but there are some concepts you have to stand on that are not going to change or go away and that is how you know you're still standing in the world as your "self" - everyone deserves love. everyone deserves justice. binaries are boring. etc. whatever. i don't have all that fully articulated now. or probably ever. but the point is that this card always makes me feel powerful, or like an imagined powerful version of myself (especially in this deck, as the jaguar, with the red/orange/yellow streaks from a black sun.) it makes me feel - i have a grasp on what is important. i have glimpsed magic. i might be able to access it if i worked on my balance and learned how to weild the tools. (the tool of MY BODY and the tools of creation/creativity. tools of conduction. tools to become a conduit. LOVE AND MAGIC. CLOWN. AHHHHH!!! okay.) experiencing the power of life by letting go of ego. the beginning of action, of new projects. the ability to harness energy and create magic. a connection to the unknown. in a way, a gate keeper. or yeah, a conduit. okay i'm just repeating myself now. i love this card.

to recap: i was working on the artist's way exercises, then i had that conversation with court. the combination made me very defensive and irritated. i asked the tarot if i was being a sad grumpy baby. i wasn't really sure what the answer was until i started writing. i have written a lot. i have written more than i intended, as per usual. i have written and that's all i want. this book/program is supposed to help me get creatively unblocked, get in touch with my Self, and get to fucking work. perhaps this isn't the intended effect, but i think it's working. this doesn't mean i get to stop, of course. i never actually wrote my new affirmations. wait nevermind i wrote a couple. doing the best i could -
-i am deserving.
-i have interesting ideas and my perspectives are worth sharing.
-i am recovering and discovering myself, taking care of myself, and becoming friends with myself
-i am just as cool as i want to be

but it's not done of course. it's never done. i have to write something i can actually believe in. it's all about the power of words, of course. then i have to say it to myself, again and again, day after day, until it becomes true. ish. even though i'm never going to say (or want to say) an affirmation like "i'm smart" or "i'm beautiful," i don't want to keep carrying these negative beliefs and this awful self-talk. i can replace those with something real. it will be okay. i am exhausted now. less grumpy but more overwhelmed. i'm done for the night. i just want to veg out now.



you should write a sonnet

keyculator, stoop and hall

already oh dear the thought where is it
it is an unflinching thing. sharp.


maybe what i liked was the unfamiliar. or wthat's what i crave. or think i did. bc i adjust to everythihng. chameleon. sinking into patterns. i crave that sinking in feeling. the passageway. maybe that's why i'm sitting in the hall right now. sitting in the floor, looking at the painting and the dust and my feet, and here's my cup of wine, and i hear jerel playing a game at the end of the hall, all the sounds. but i don't look at my hands and that's good and okay. i am just thinkig thoughts almost. isn't this ohow i think? it's sentences. it didn't used to be. i am not sure, i've wondered always, what form do other people's thoughts take? what's their shape? jerel says there's always images. that's more rare for me.
look at that. my cat comes back. the end of the hall. an angel! he's learning the house, nervous, stalking. he's learning the circle. the house is two concentric circles sort of. the hall is the main vein. there are times i avoid it. there are times it feels unnecesssary to my movement, my destination.
jerels' game is getting loud. i should close the doors.


four pockets, four directions.
a stone - a rock, really. i recognize it as one of my own, sitting on my parents' coffee table. i slip it into my front right pocket. a fake flower - fabric. pink. i like it. i was looking for whatever mom thinks willikers was playing with in the (non) living room. i don't see much / i see too much. the flower could be the thing? maybe, maybe not. but i like the color. (my room needs color.)
a twist tie - the color of cardboard. implies "recycled" or "natural" unlike the blue/white/yellow ties normally found on bags of bagels and the like. i don't know what it came off of. i feel like this is a thing that i always expct to be there, and never ever am i gonna pay for it. here is one on teh counter, unused. pocket
packet corner - the plastic yellow corner of a bag of cough drops from the floorboard of my sister's car. i am suupposed to open them for her. i do not litter. i take trash towards me. i bring it home. (i am home.) i bring trash home. i bring it towards its home, my body. you get it.

i wish i could remember which pocket housed which item. why do i wish that? what purpose would that really serve? it's not like pants have directions. i can assign them as i wish, as i prescribe to where my mind/body/center sits.

two weeks ago at movie night, franklin made popcorn, two delicious huge bowls. at some point near the end of the bowl, i wish i remembered the cue (she probably does) morgan tells me "i've been holding these kernels in my hand." i tell her "i put mine in my pocket." she asks "will you take mine too?" and i put her moist discarded mouth seeds into the pit of my pocket. along with my own, i am sowing them for somethign, the possibility of the pocket.
the pocket
the portal
the pocket
the portal
i wish i had a cigarette
i'm tempted to go buy one
instead i am gonna look for my rolling papers and make an herbal thingie. raspberry leaf and uva ursi and shit. and maybe some of this cbd business that smells like weed but isn't. let's try. i have the urge to be under moon, under wind. i dont' want to leave my cat, but the night is calling me. the cards want the night. i am listening.

p.s. when i took off those pants and found those treasures, i put on new pants and found new ones - selenite and bitten off finger nails. what to do with such things!

i'm surprised how much video game noise distracts me. (am i?)

(wondering, did you turn the game down once you heard me moving outwards? or did it just get to a quiet part?)

realizing i'm sneaking again. SNEAKING in my own home! is it for fun or is it from fear?
i realize i'm trying to small myself, curl up, walk toe to heel down the whole hall. i've already left my slippers in the kitchen to be quieter. i realize my throat is tight, closed.
this was one of the things, one of the whole same things. open open open. project. speak. fill. this one is so big. i just want to sing and squeak. instead i smoke and drink. i dont know. i dont know.
i see it.
i'm working on it.
right now i am going to smoke this herbal thing intentionally. i am drinking wine. i maybe should just sleep but i feel like this is one of *those* nights. is that fair?
i dont' care. i'm trying to follow the impulses. i'm trying to feel which are mine, if that exists.

what about holding space for the dialogue between air and electricty? earth and plastic? i know we have enough worshippers of pollution. but how can we have a beter conversation?
i don't entirely know what i'm thinking.
just remembering feeling a magic in electric light, from a distance, like a wish of fairies. the intimacy of parking lots. (and of course their opposites, going both ways. the loneliness of parking lots. the intimacy of a thicket of trees.) what have we actually changed by replacing plants with concrete? what spirits linger here now?

p.s. feather of swords is lookiing up at me when i open the box - after court last shuffled. i hold the cards just for a moment - the only peek i get is the lovers, reversed. just the bottom left 1/8 of the card, but i recognize it. goddamn.
okay.
gonna use a spread i saw on instagram a few months back and have been meaning to try. lets see.

lost found

i begin to think everything isn’t real and this is just a ??
but i’ve been inside a book and 3 beers and tears and i don’t know what i am and what i’ve found now that i’ve come out of it
what is enough
where are the thresholds
how do we see them
how can we honor them
how can i thank everything enough for what it is
how is it okay for me to be alive and consuming

i have my friend here! the cat dr g. what a great guy. what a miracle to see him here giving life to this space. how did i not see how empty it was before ???
how have i not seen how empty the days? when is the last time i touched anything real?
thinking about swamps and sheeps and

maybe there’s a bog witch feeling in there somewhere
(maybe the thing is just to do it and stop thinking. just find a place.)

sad clam stew

what have i done what did i do?
interrupted again i guess
came in with a question and turned around
asshole
but couldn’t take the passive aggressive? response
just tell me your feelings are hurt
just ask me to leave
instead it’s just you don’t want pizza anymore. you’ll have a cucumber sandwich.
now i don’t want pizza anymore
now i don’t want anything
i feel abandoned again
lost
useless
sad
lonely
you don’t think i should feel abandoned bc i’m “never alone”
but you are the one who keeps choosing solitude - how can that be the same feeling?
i’m not mature enough for this relationship
i’m too insecure
i’m not secure enough for this relationship
i’m too immature
the catbox smell sticks in the air
not the stuff but the litter
it’s dusting everything already i guess
the air is already thicker
it’s in my throat like a tickle
making water taste bitter
just dust me dry me burn me away
leave me lying in the dark
leave me lying under feathers
never look at me
never look back
i’m not enough for this
i can’t not overreact
i couldn’t give you enough
i’m not what you need
i’m not what you deserve
i love what i lack
your patience generosity kindness cleverness
i rot i wilt i falter feather
giving only when i need to
getting all of nothing from you
questing licking split the center
rent from mouths mistakes they quiver
climbing clinging higher tighter
melting winging longer lighter
nothing gone from nothing gained
bring me back some nothing name
give me grievance give me shame
give me pleasure give me pain
gone from earth and banned from hell
damned if we didn’t rum barrel yell
this got off track but that’s the point
be free before you blow this joint
go wild run now go wild get down
where did i go
where have i been
i wanted to just say what happened
the words ran away with me
such a sin
the rhyme it tricks me makes me bend
time to be done.
time to be gone.
i only wanted to say it plain
is there a way i can ever do it or will i always cloak the hard parts in the poetry ?
why is this the only place i find it ?
(because it’s melodramatic stupid and embarrassing
and no one should have to read it
you wish you never went to write it)
the flow moves pathways in my mind and it skips along a different rhyme
but rhythm stays the same maybe even every time
i’m done i’m dying
i’m cold i’m crying
i’m not i’m lying
i can’t stop sighing
and every time wonder did you hear ?
stopped half hoping you’d appear
you don’t have words for what i’ve done
i can’t come back from where i’ve gone
but it’s time to make pasta time to sing songs
remember that the night is long
remember that you could go blond
remember that you started this
and you could stop it with a kiss
you know that you could just keep going
when river words are easy flowing
but when they show no signs of slowing
you learn to know when to stop rowing



“the end is nigh”-ing

rat trap night sack

sometimes i forget about how the page used to offer lines. the clear distinction in my mind between lines and the huge block of a never ending paragraph. like the stories didn’t require it so they didn’t receive. and the poems had a whole different vocabulary, different shape.

i have to remember to read more shapes. more poems. more weird words.
rex’s book. angela carter. poetry all the time. what am i doing.

actually these video games are funny sometimes with their lines in a way i can get behind. i didn’t expect to be so drawn in by the words.

(but also there are other words, there are other worlds. we can’t forget to visit.)

i’m up late carefree silly on a thirsty thursday. a pushback against feeling yet again a failure for my parents? a finding fun pushback to jerel playing their new game where i have an excuse to be silly / seen?
i’ve been reminding myself to look for the signs. see that everything is speaking. tonight i saw a lot of words. i saw images i can’t imagine where i found them in 2001, 2012. (“a circus orb” et al.) what were they saying?

do i want another smoke actually or do i want the cool outside alone? can it be both or what is healthy? this drink is probably already too much so maybe it’s also enough. pasta and white wine with the fur family in the museum and broad city episode about hoarding - is it weird that it didn’t hit closer to home? or did we feel it without fully comprehending? was there intention in the writing to actually touch the subject or was it just a vessel for poignancy and laughter? how cloaked can you go?




the remembory is that it can’t be forced, the remembory is that it comes in spurts. we seem to work in sprints. (is this a “good” thing? is it even “okay” or do we keep needing to fight to find some perfect balance? the correct timesheet planner equation? doesn’t it feel too much dependent on yr brain and body and mood to predict? hasn’t it always? how do we leave room for it and still do all this other garbage mess?)

all we really want is a _____ train

stop being obsessed with yourself you prick





listen at least yr writing at least you got to here. this is where you will meet them.
(hello train. hello night. enter smoke. enter game.)

is the place where i have been going
-when i have been able to get there-
the place? where others go
i know there is a stream
many streams
to look and dip and lick
have i found any access points
or is mine a secret chest

(there are rhymes wanted that i do not choose. there are lines waiting that i should not lose.)
((can i be a one to flow through? can my fingers make my mind true?))

if always the revelation is about the revelation then we can’t go nowhere.
if you can’t get the fuck off this one stair then we can’t walk anywhere can’t move can’t do can’t speak can’t teach and then who are we for? still only ourselves still ever our cells still nothing that sells still
there is a something which will creak
there
there yes i’ve heard it
there yes and the word yes it’s singing
creak and sing
teach and bring
let me be a nothing thing
let me be lip to lie on
let me be a lid pried open
let the softness scream our songs
let the darkness live along
and when we dream of day again
we know that we can take the pen
and when the day is vast and open
we know that we must make the potion
(we know that we must never read
the words that we never did speak
we know that lines can come alive
before our hearts and minds divide)


maybe i can open the connection but i don’t know where to go. maybe i’m so worried that it shouldn’t be me. maybe i’m convinced that i’m just an instigator, enabler, facilitator, translator, assistant, nodule, fake. was i even supposed to be here today. was i even supposed to eat any cake. surely only sitting in to sit the wings and make the smoke.
how do i find what the house is about
i want to be the vessel
how do i receive
(if you want to be the muscle
you must first be meat)
and how do i muster the sounds of the moldy
and construct what’s left behind when i’m left lonely
what do we do with the ones who’ve abused
what have we done when we’re forever snoozed
listen
listenlistenlisten
you’ve never seen the kitchen
listen
the critter creaking over there
the sirens trains machines that take the air
we’re sure you haven’t seen much greater
so get off the elevator
quit yr game of rising high
lick yr knuckle spit dry and listen listen listen
hi
if you’re not watching who is ?
who is stewarding this land
who would kiss a possums hand
shut up with that i’m not a savior
but look at what the good gods gave ya
if i can’t get words for all
maybe my own aren’t so small
listen
listen
train train plane rustle car rustle TRAIN car TRAIN central air train train drip drip rustle wind rattle rustle rattle hush rattle rush rustle rustle come to me rustle rustling one so free will you be raccoon or cat will you be possum or rat will you be a friend or foe will you be which grazes low
rustle drip rain falls now rustle train rattle brain slow small cloud drip car drip fall slow soft don’t snow rustle dribble birds quibble cars rush birds hush a light to shine a sounding line an awkward caw a swaying soft the rustle leaves although i’m looking the tussled trees continue cooking

coocoo
cakoo
coocoo
cocoon
speak speak speak
tweet
sleep
squeak
some small holler far away
some life will leave and some will stay

sometimes i forget that we are the bodies we have
in these spaces in these places

spring soon

Doing this mileage taxes thing has been weirdly introspective -- tracking my past, where do my days go, where am I going. Definitely got me thinking about how little I've been doing lately and feeling bad about my "progress" or something, down on myself about what I'm "supposed to" be doing. This morning I'm moving slower than I'm "supposed to" according to my list, but my brain is doing stuff that's maybe good. Rolled around in bed with Jerel for a while, but not "too long," took a shower + my brain wasn't stuck on the list for once. Spent 15 or 20 minutes brushing my hair + listening to a podcast by the Gods + Radicals folks that's mirroring some thoughts I've been having about the white pagan and new age communities and how they're such bullshit! And I'm over it! Is it avoidable? UGH. So I rinse my hair, I burn some palo santo, then wonder how sustainable it is, and is it like sage that we've decided we need it for every damn ritual and cleansing despite it not being native to most regions (not to mention it doesn't belong to us) and I'm remembering the bunches of pine needles I collected from the ground to make into a smudge stick, remembering whole bunches green + fresh that the trees shed, seemingly so early, but they knew winter was coming + they had to conserve their energy, and suddenly I realize that I've been slow, partly for the season, and it always goes sort of this way, and it's good to recharge + spend time with my honey, relax + retreat + conserve + observe. Spring is right around the corner, and the world will open up again.

(4pm getting fuzzy -- I think I forgot to take Adderall again...)

losing wood

Back from walking dogs -- there goes the day again! How can I make time for everything?!? Where does it go?!? I feel sort of frazzled and crazy even though I didn't take Adderall today -- a conscious choice to see how my brain would feel. Still a good bit of spinny eyeballs + racing thoughts. But the energy is good -- could it just be THE SUN? Finally out to say hi? And it's nearly warm outside, I actually got hot in just a t-shirt after a couple dogs. Or could it be partly that I had only one beer last night, when my norm lately has been three? Or is it again just this sense of today as a new beginning + wanting to somehow do it all at once?

Have been trying to work on this car mileage spreadsheet for over an hour and have gotten literally nowhere -- 100% stuck! I feel like I've totally lost the momentum I had earlier in the day, and I'm completely unfocused. My mind doesn't feel super fast but it does feel jumpy and unclear.

(So I took adderall! Maybe it helped?? no idea.)

a newness

I'm tired of acting/living from a place of fear and bitterness and confusion.
I want to love more, better. Now.
I want to have patience, be more kind.
I want to write + take time.
I'm afraid of how some elements in my life make me feel -- screens, adderall, etc.
Am I losing all my empathy? Patience?
How can I slow down? How can I do better?
I ordered a new planner for some reason-- always the thought is "This will really get me on track!" It's just a tool, not a solution, but maybe it will help (if I let it, if I don't let this little fire die.)
Already, today is the start of (another) new era. Jerel is training for their new job at Wizards, and I have my first case at UT on Wednesday. After spending the last few days alternating between mega evil tax hell and total vegging out, I'm in the mindset to take charge of my finances and my records, to do better than I've done before. Wanna get on that hustle!

i think i saw another one of those faces the other night..... a face full of stars??? or.... coming out of the stars?

night visions

just remembered those crazy face images/messages i was receiving last night trying to fall asleep.

orange and bright blue feathers and paint, fiery excited curious eyes
deeper blue ish face looked like it was carved of wood, stoic, lined
the feeling of huge soft silvery white eyelashes closing and opening, kissing my face, huge bright blue eyes
a brilliant shining eye (eyes?) in the darkness - the sense of peering up from some depths

i did wonder if they were clown gods.

were there more?

the rest is hazy as i am getting closer to sleep. i feel like there's this sense of a green/black mottled texture... not unlike moss or algae. maybe had a face but wasn't as clear.
and did i really see... a goat??? or horned animal of some kind, in silhouette.... (maybe this was something i gave myself, after having the thought that they might be clown gods.

the first three felt very close, like they were right up in my face. and very focused on the eyes.

definitely felt like i was receiving these images, perhaps from some universal stream of creative energy, or perhaps from the gods or the fairies or the spirits or the ghosts or whoever's faces i was meeting

HERE IS A THING YOU DO

you ask someone's opinion before you have let yourself think about your own opinion. YES YOU HAVE ONE. sometimes, sure, you don't actually know until someone says what they think, and then you realize, oh my feeling is THE EXACT OPPOSITE OF THAT. but maybe sometimes you are just being lazy!!! or asking is automatic aka yr doing it because of codependent tendencies.

STOP with the reactionary weirdness!

THINK before yr asking someone else what they want. you fuckin do it all the time. sometimes it's because your recall is bad -- like, "where do you want to go out to eat?" because you can't remember anywhere you've ever been.

AND NOW you are procrastinating bc you've gotta get htis shit done and you don't wanna! self sabotage! ahhhhhhh! stop!!!!

zoned

need to get better at winding down at night. when i stay stimulated i don’t get tired. gotta get away from screens at night! (now a sound has spooked me and i feel ridiculous. help. will i ever sleep ?? )
got wayyyyy too excited over a kind of small thing tonight. i think it really satisfied my adhd brain. adderall brain??? i’ve been in tons of crazy internet research wormholes all year and i was just talking to kat about how hard it is to pull myself away out of the wormhole and away from the screen because there’s always MORE and there’s no clear end and there’s nothing that satiates my brain’s need for stimulation. where’s the reward?? so i’m lucky enough that alice is paying me to do some research (although i’m sure i’m doing more of it than she originally intended) (and for some reason i get panicky about this job when i’m not doing it but as soon as i am it feels really good and natural etc) so i’ve been looking at a bunch of financial and marketing crap i don’t understand on and off for the last few months. a lot of that time has been researching an automatic payment or direct deposit system for the teachers, who are independent contractors with tutti studio. and tonight after literally like 3 hours of more research on this same topic, i finally found a reasonable, simple, cheap solution. (i mean i think i did. we need to test it out.) but it felt so GRATIFYING and i was physically giddy and eeeeeee and wow i had been exhausted and ready to quit just moments before, and then i had a burst of energy that lasted.... well that was almost two hours ago now. but tomorrow is another big big day and i can’t lose steam now! so! gotta sleep. gotta try at least. eereeeeeer help.

imagining myself upstairs, typewriter click clacking, glue licking. can we follow the aesthetic of 2017 clown "Grimoira" style of floral print, rich reds + purples, piles of books, LAMPS?
(how important is a color scheme, really? in my imagining it's often very clear, such a MOOD, such a way to shift into a new reality. new realm? is it mre about the style or the space? schedule? is it back to one notebook lifestyle or would it help to have a planner? def need WALL CALENDAR and visual lists.
DESIGNATED SCREEN TIME. HOLY SHIT.
sun and lamp light. an unnecessary amount of fabric. (does a studio have art on the walls or is that just distracting? what is good enough to look at all the time? a bedroom certainly can have full walls -- posters, postcards, drawings, lovely things. a collection that feels like myself, not holding onto something for someone. not an ARCHIVE but an expression. but i suppose too the lists have to go somewhere. living space or work space? CAN THERE ALWAYS BE PAPER? Can i start to actually use it?)
Opened the box of the Numinous tarot, seven of candles (wands) comes flying out -- the card i drew for the new year (unknowingly kinda) on Samhain (but of course i did -- also need to call on the High Priestess / The Diviner more often to trust, to follow my intuition and let my body go first. Mind will catch up. Move my hands to move the cards. Find it with a feeling. /// Looking for a feeling! The body knows some things the mind doesn't!! /// I'm now wishing for space to MOVE, dance, sing, play. Wishing for knowledge + skill to teach Pochinko play. (Could I really go to the clown farm?!) Making this year about -- courage, expression, light, opening, creation, strength in self, support in community, FIRE. resistance. power. commitment! positivity?! SUCCESS?!?!
also, drink less.

[look how even the pencil breaks, refuses to work, doesn't even cooperate to erase. the words must stay. of course the only pen I find is PURPLE of course. thank the gods of course of course]

things yr gonna do

start a workshop series

host movie night

host writing group

host salons

host art hours

make an installation show

write a script

make a zine

publish an essay

release an album

tour a show

write a biography

let me be a better sister
let me not in my sickness linger
let me carve paths through the suffer
let me see
where i dropped me
and pick back up my sister

if we can't now then how

when you break the thing you were trying to carry.
your fingers aren’t fast enough to clear up thinking flurries.
your words are the turds that you scrape from your belly.
you silenced the sole sound that wanted to be many

look and say look and know
it’s so hard to write within this flow
(every word corrected into a typo
every gorgeous creature stifled into camo)

this isn’t the way this isn’t the time
let yr own hand say this line
let yr own mind be its own scribe
consider how the pen will choose the usefulness of mime

stop this nonsense
i’m sorry for my shit
i’m sorry for my selfishness and ache and spin and spit
i haven’t found a way to speak this stuff i’m carrying all the time
it should and jives and jerks and buckles and flails behind a rhyme

tarot for the week (never mind it’s for the year)

seven of candles / wands

i have been really ducking lazy and even tho this week was supposed to end that and get back into GET SHIT DONE mode, i have not done a very good job at that. lots of playing games on my phone. lots of lazing around in bed all day, staying up late drinking. lots of sex. (obviously it’s not all bad!)
so today i ask the cards what medicine i need for the rest of this week to get back into high gear. here i receive SEVEN OF WANDS (candles in the numinous deck) which screams fierce, courageous, knowing and holding my own power. fucking GOALS let’s get right.

i keep telling myself i don’t have time or i’m not ready to start looking at those art life help books but i’m just making excuses. i need to get some advice from those books and also find a better visual way to keep track of my goals. THIS FEELS SO REDUNDANT. i’m tired of falling into the same loops. i’m tired of having to teach myself the same lessons. i’m tired of screens.

also there really is so much to do in the short term future that it’s hard to imagine making time for this stuff, but actually i think it’s integral to making the right choices about what’s next. i need to be looking for s place to live and figuring out more steady income, plus defining and strengthening my relationship with jerel, which also means helping them get to california and then back here with their car. so in thinking about that trip, having my own place, making more green beans, i need to be placing myself in a strong central position, not trying to accommodate for everyone and everything else before meeting my own needs. this means making time and space for art projects goddammit. this has to be #1 priority for the new year! new home, new partner, new life, new me.

last year i attempted to put my healing first, which sometimes worked and sometimes didn’t but i think i’ve made a little progress. this year i’ll prioritize art projects (personal and collaborative) and productive relationships. building a nest that supports my mental health and my work. finding gigs that will let me feel more stable while also maintaining my independence. seeking funding for art projects. finding new ways to clown. making plans for the longer term instead of living only in seasons. holding space and being a safety net for my partner in a way that supports their growth and independence. fucking commit to writing. commit to creating sacred spaces and communing with spirits. commit to magic practice as well as art practice on the damn daily. routine can be ritual!! these are not bad words!!! writing, singing, playing.

(also while writing this i kept thinking of january as technically the new year and even tho that’s far away being like well whatever but i just remembered today is SAMHAIN which is witches new year, duh!! okay i’m already on the right track. i like this card for this year. gonna GET IT!)

SO THIS WEEK to get on track, i need to freaking organize my to do list and start knocking shit off. i should try using that app again, i was having a lot of success with that. at least it’s a good idea till i come up with something better. (jerel seemed to have some ideas a while back, when they saw how frazzled i felt half the time. ask them again?) remember that getting the bullshit over-with means more time for the goods.

to do lists
organize for alice meeting
pay therapist
prepare for paris

go to sleep early

i accidentally killed the game

I tripped up on the crime of rhyme
It kills + kills me every time


if sweetly beasties come to holler
so silky sip them make you smaller
till ghoulies guide you to their pockets
and slip you fit you in their lockets

keyculator collab with jerel

NEVER THINK AGAIN. never think again.
this is the idea but this isn't the way to say it. this isn't the idea and this isn't the way to say it. stop thinking about yourself. stop wondering stop wasking waking asking basking stop stewing in the brewing.
never do the not thing. never be a nothing. never be your own thing. never dance without sing.

and ten kiss and kiss and kiss and never not. the lips that time forgot. and stop without the thought.

NEVER AGAIN NOT THAT SPOT
NEVER NOT NEVER NOT NEVER NOT NEVER NOT

you can't know if you didn't try
so shove it up yr whiny eye

i'll never try until i die
don't make me use this ugly guy

you couldn't scale but half the sky
so set yr pancake on some pie

won't you hear my plaintive cry
upon this pie i'm screaming "why?!"

you wish you did, you wish you don't
know whether you blew crumbs of hope
there's nothing you forgot to bother
spilled the piss across the altar

from my thoughts my fingers pry
a sentence structure oh so sly
so i give a heaving sigh
and rest this back upon your thigh

alas you've changed the rhyming scheme
puncturing my clung-to dreams
i'll meet you hither, thither, there
give this process greater care

a sickened sail, a drunken drum
so suck the scum right from yr thumb

a broken trail, a path availed
a drunken maw what burps and hums
sits in sorrow; blackened lungs
an unset sail has never failed

you already told me you busted the game
what would you like to do now
the only thing i trusted was pain
i'd like to do better but how

you broke your foot you rolled the bone
there's nowhere left once you've gone home

you stick the stuck you plunked the plank
the ceiling's nothing what's not sank

` to drip a drop, to think a thought
i carry all i've not forgot

florida party dream

rachel smith's birthday party at her house. it's a lot of people, feels like a lot of people more mature than our crew. then again are any of the other nola folks here or is it just transplants from my memphis group that i'm finding here?
dexter, rachel's son i've never met, probably 4 or 5 here although he's gotta be almost 10 by now, removes his pants and underwear and runs away from me giggling. i think it's pretty funny too but the adults are generally aghast that i haven't been able to keep him under control. so now i'm chasing him around with the pants in my hand, trying to coax him to put them back on and feeling generally incompetent.

somehow i end up in the bed in my pajamas? was it a sleepover? the room doesn't really feel like rachel's room although i guess it's supposed to be. the mattress is on the floor along the back wall, and i can see out to the backyard through the windows when i turn around. everybody is out there having a good time, partying, pool splashin. i realize i'm wearing my pajamas (blue firefly shirt) so i look for my bag to put on some real clothes and join the festivities. all i can find is some real dumb shorts i don't like and my floral crop top i've only worn once. i don't want to put it on. do i? or maybe i just go out there in my pajamas and people judge me okay so what. or maybe i'm just distracted by talking to people out there and i forget that's the problem. lots of pals here, lauren dunn, kat, brett, morgan, hunter daniel?? definitely others but i can't remember specifics. i think mallory is here too.
at some point i remember that rachel recently broke up with another boyfriend who was a narcissistic addict, another mean drunk. i want to find a time to commiserate with her about that, but i don't know when i'll be able to, with all these people around. i've barely spoken to her.
i need to get in the pool with everybody else, go back to digging through my bag looking for my swimsuit. it's not there, i probably didn't even pack it, but i'm poking around through piles of stuff on the floor and the desk and now that i think about it, it kind of has the quality of one of the video games i played with jerel this week-- moving through the actions of searching in order to go to the next scene. i'm also exhausted somehow. (by now i've been snoozing my alarm clock and/or getting woken up by dogs and then falling back asleep. in real life i know i need to get up because it's getting really late but i guess i'm pretty tired and there's also this sense of things i need to finish in the dreamworld.)
so in the dream i fall asleep on the bed again. are there dreams within the dream? there must be.
i remember i'm standing over a desk looking through some papers and i see an infographic about making art and suggestions for process. one header says something like "THE TALISMAN" but maybe not that, it has a picture of a pink clock. it's talking about the important of the initial inspiring words - but actually it seems to be about more than words - it's about the moment that you receive inspiration for a project, or the moment that something clicks, and having a physical object or image that recalls that moment. keep it with you or keep it in your work space to hold onto the source of the feeling. of course this is sounding very obvious typing it down, but it felt very useful in the dream. especially since i don't have a damn process and it's so hard to say "artist" and i didn't learn any of these tricks.
at some point rachel is standing over me on teh bed, maybe this is even a nightmare within the dream because she's distant and seems irritated with me, but rightly so considering that i'm sleeping through her birthday party. her green eyes are piercing, so vivid, her hair is currently dyed a deep auburn and her hair is long and wavy at her shoulders. she looks otherwise just the same, same rachel i loved so long ago. i guess everything is pretty fuzzy but her eyes and hair are nothing but clear, in the sharpest focus. i remember i remember.
my body is so exhausted but i have to get up. i look out and i think hunter daniel is gonna play some drums or someone is performing music in front of the pool. it's getting a little darker out now. maybe i fell asleep again. i look up and people are singing karaoke. i can't miss this! I've gotta sing!!! finally i drag myself up, now it's as if the wall has melted away and people can talk to me in the bed from the yard, i can enter and exit this way. brett sees me sit up and calls, "alanna i need your help judging this karaoke contest! come over here!" although obviously i've missed all the performances so it makes no sense for me to judge, which i think i realize. i dip down again, exhausted, and when i sit back up, brett is awarding morgan and two other friends (rex?? kat? i don't remember but they're good buds) who are dressed up as makeshift crystal gems with rainbow fabric skirts and sashes. felt or construction paper hair. they're overjoyed to be winning and i can't believe i'm missing this. how does it keep happening?
as i'm walking out, morgan is coming in, she says that so and so loaned her this bathing suit and she's done with the pool (at some point before, brett has said "Everyone's done with the pool" ???) and i can wear this loaner suit. it's hideous, tan masquerading as gold, and maybe with sequins. it's actually familiar, i think i've worn it last time i was here (but i never could have been here) and i hesitate because of how it looks (so vain in this dream!) but put it on anyway. finally i walk to get in the pool but find it mostly full, and although it turns out there's a second pool (duh) a few feet away from teh first one, no one is know is here. i am trying to participate but seeing my friends all having fun just beyond reach. i try to make small talk with these new people but i feel awkward and stiff. standing in the corner of the pool facing the other pool - see a little tiny brown spider (but a kind of electric blue outline?) skip across teh water into our circle, very fast. we all overreact, and try to splash it away from us. it lands a few feet away, on top of what i quickly realize is another spider just like this one-- only it's 10 times as big. monstrous!! i look around the pool and it dawns on me that there are critters everywhere. little squat brown toads that could've been rocks, sitting neatly on top of the water. wait that oen's not on the water, it's on top of a fucking tiny ALLIGATOR. well, it's florida after all! and i guess we are partying in the swamp!

((this seems like a good image to hang onto for space submarine commander, although saying it out loud to jerel, they said bog witch. good point. and funny that the dream told me to find the image to hang onto-- i think that's probably accurate for both SSC and bog witch. i fucking wish i had a fucking WORK SPACE where i could hang some images on the wall and have a place to freakin think and dream and work. help.))

inarticulate after the argument (and probably during too)

def plan on chain smoking
join if you'd like
this fucking SUCKS

a cigarette first one after a long while never tastes good like i think it should. it just tastes like ashes. i know this. i know this. what do i do. it is the most self sabotage. is it subconsciously because of the doctor appointment today and worry about my cervix and the lesions there and the cancer fear

why oh why

why is my heart pounding and why can't i finish my breakfast and why can't i keep my toes from curling and why has my cunt gone fiery ? how am i supposed to get anything done ?!

i have all this big glorious thoughts about reminding people about magic
but all of my actual ideas feel grotesque or at least dark

MY BODY HAS A LOT TO SAY

and it’s full of revelations

firstly being how right kat’s dance teacher is that if you want to write you have to first move. i switched up my body and my mind woke up. so full so sure.

it’s not that “everything happens for a reason.”
it’s that everything means something. (does it? me who loves nonsense, do i really believe that?) or maybe it’s more like nothing happens in a vacuum. everything is attached to something. but maybe everything does have meaning and if it seems like nonsense it’s because the riddle isn’t unscrambled yet? after all, we’re just the conduits.

driving along and thinking about the past, my past self. my happy list - the joy in simple things. picnics and mud and swings and dancing. just friends. those are all the real things. when did it get so bogged down? and when did i decide that my depression has always been eating me alive?? i mean it has but it’s not like i never enjoyed anything. i felt miserable in a cruel world that made me hate myself and makes people have to do horrible things to keep up with it. i was never actually the problem. i had so much passion and energy and i knew what was important!!! i’ve got to get that back.

and that was another revelation - all along six of cups. for months six of cups - good memories, childhood, family, roots, growth. i have to remember how to play. i have to get some of that child essence back. to be good and do good and CLOWN and remember how to be happy.

HARRY COULD ALMOST CRY AT THIS SIMPLE GIFT OF THE UNIVERSE.

i’ve been staring at it all along and i never really saw it. i’ve been saying yes yes i know and thinking it has to do with being home but now i see it’s about something i’m missing, or don’t have enough of, something essential. REMEMBERING TO PLAY. remembering to move. appreciating sensual experiences. i see now how i have to kill some of the adult learned bullshit to get back to a place where i felt better being a blank slate. (i’ve looked for that feeling so many places. sex, masochism, drinking, fire, internet, candy crush, dancing. playingggg and moving without myself is the best one. yeah?!)

i have to say thank you to the clown gods for being patient with me on this one. i’m sorry i had to ask so many times. i need to find a better way to process these tarot readings. through dance, maybe??? today i had the urge to get off after the reading, to be open and explode pleasure in the presence of the cards. i thought that would give them energy. obviously they don’t need it! i’m the one who needs the movement, the rhythm, the process!!!! to take it into my mind it has to come through my body. or vice versa.

is it a gift that the clown gods, the earth messengers, others, out there, are communicating with me? i guess they must talk to everyone like this, but not everyone listens (or knows how to). not trying to talk like i’m some great listener!! obviously i missed the six of cups message for months. (why haven’t they given up on me??) but i want to learn and i want to do better. better, bigger, harder, brighter magic. i want to make it good enough. i hope they’ll keep helping me understand how.

also side note i really need to get “brett” or whatever skeptical voice out of my head so that my thoughts stop getting distracted. ugh. at this point, how can i even doubt????

moments of clarity

brighter, harder, bigger MAGIC

feeling it today, feeling good. remembering that i don't need to swing wildly from the extremes of "i'm the worst" to "i'm so special and good" and actually there's this nice safe place in the middle. i'm not better than other people. i think everyone has the capacity to tap into magic, to pull down the moon, breathe fire. maybe i have some different channels open than other people do, but that doesn't make me better or special. i don't need to be huge, or be a star, or change the whole damn world, if i can change who's in the room, speak truths, bring in the small magic.

follow the fool
follow the impulse
the body knows something the mind doesn't

DANCE FREAK DANCE!!!!!!! DANCE FOOL DANCE!!!!!!!!
that would be an awesome queer dance party, lets make that happen. where??

i hear the right songs and i CAN'T NOT MOVE. i know what they are. cultivate htem and put them together. let's have a fucking dance party already. i can take it to the woods. i can take it anywhere.
i can take the clown to the woods without the nose, the hat, the covered body. i can clown wherever i need to, with anything. haven't i always??? when did i get hung up on accoutrements?!!? yes i want to keep learning and growing, yes i've got to evolve it all. but when did i ever want to do only one thing? can't i be clowning and dancing and following no rules? except the main one - give up give up give up. give up your thoughts and give your body over and let the gods move through you. stop thinking stop thinking stop wishing stop wanting. this is all there is, now.

yes okay fine the question of the audience, but right now they're not here. it's just me in my room. and sometimes i IMAGINE they're there, and that trips me up, traps me. i can't let them come in. it's dancing more than anything else because i fear the predatory eyes and the judgment and they think they own my body. i want to say, when i feel that gaze, my whole body will revolt, contort, i will become bug and beast. never for you never for you never for you.

take it through. if they want to come to your world, they can be an audience and we'll talk together. if they want to ride the wave and the rhythm of this mess, we can make it work together. they don't just get to come here and make demands.

keep the mind open keep the body moving
find new eyes find new power
yes yes yes yes feel that fire !!!!

can we always be dancing?? can we warm up wake up dancing every day? how can we try?
(we need a floor first, oh yeah)

stop thinking

listen i'm not even drinking
listen i'm stone cold sober
(unless you count adderall, 9 hours before)
i'd like to keep talking but i need to go take care of the dogs and then pack and then blah

maybe there is a lesson here about HOW I AM FUCKING OVERTHINKING EVERYTHING IN MY FUCKING LIFE and it shouldn't take this long or this much stress to pack. i'm going to the woods, but what do i really need?? a toothbrush and some clothes and a flashlight. why do i think i need more?

please alanna please stop being so sucked in by the computer. you think you need to know stuff that you don't need to know. most of what you are doing is actually hoarding. much of the time you are just following a line of tabs that never get read or watched and just pile up and pile up. REMEMBER WHEN you didn't miss that???? remember the communes in 2015 and remember the freedom of being phoneless in the loony bin???? you can't know everything and it stops mattering. the focus shifts. you've got to get to that. you've got to get to your body and intuition and the computer is neither of those things. you've got to stop. you're going to stop right now and you're going to stop writing and turn off the computer and go do the htings you have to do. you're going to cleanse your body and spirit in the woods, in the mud, in the river. when you come home, you're going to organize your fucking room and set up a fucking work space. you're going to make some fucking art. you're going to write. you're going to get one of those copyediting jobs and bring in some green beans. things are on the move and they're going to happen but we have to make them happen.

CAN WE DO A TWO WEEK COMPUTER CLEANSE OR SOME SHIT

okay here we go

lost on the ride

i haven't been writing. that's no good. i think this adderall helps my brain to not be a pinball machine but instead i am constantly hyperfocusing (??) i don't know if that' sthe right word to use for what is happening. i'm forgetting that i put a string around my finger. i maybe lost hte string before it even got to my finger. oof. i'm getting lost in the internet ALL THE TIME. this week i made a bunch of internet IMPULSE BUYS which is a new thing that i've never really done and it was a little too easy. i'm trying to do some research, or what i am doing turns into research, but i am just amassing a bunch of links and articles that i have not read. it's all stuff that's very exciting to me, about clown and performance and activist art, but the deeper i go, the more overwhelmed i am. first of all, by the amount of information i've already gathered that i haven't touched, and second, by the sheer amount of people in this work. is this kinda why i fell off the train last year? when i realized there are thousands of clown troupes roving around the world, living my dream??
BUT REMEMBER - if them, why not me? don't forget that xmas revelation!!! that was a big one. if people are doing it, why can't i be one of them?? because i'm afraid of not being as good as them OR of not being original enough. it seemed like a better idea before i realized there were thousands of theatre clowns. BUT ALSO REMEMBER - as we learned from our trip to dell'arte, much of what these clowns are doing is not exciting to me. they're doing a different thing, they're on their own journey. that's why i keep coming back to POCHINKO and the CLOWN FARM and canada and i know i have to go there. i have to write to john, said donna. i have to call donna back. why am i avoiding these things???????? fear of failure, probably. goddamn that one.


i just got lost on a goodreads trail for like 30 or more minutes. what hte fuck. i didn't want to and i don't want to. i have nO SELF CONTORL!!!!!!

damn dumb

i've opened a beer but i'm out of lives on candy crush and also on two dots and that means i have to find something new to look at on the phone or try to be in my body in 20 minutes or however long it actually takes to drink a beer - does anyone know?
i'm sick with shuffle playing love songs. i want the passion but not the subject.
i tell myself it's okay, today is so and so, this isnt time to quit or even abstain. as if the day exists. what a fiction ! does adderall make my memory worse? could it get any worse?
(maybe i didn't know before... i'm not good at remembering the specifics but i can feel changes - or maybe i was always doing these physical things but my brain was pinballing so fast i didn't take the time to observe the physical stuff except every now and then? (oh wait your toes have been crunched up for maybe 30 minutes and it doesn't feel so great.))

run with the wolves and make art

respond !

be wild

be stupid

if you're thinking too much you're not able to be creative

don't use fear to avoid the river

work EVERY DAY no matter what

notebooks. pens. pockets.

get the fuck off the internet

fucking today why

saw on the calendar that today is the new moon. it's june. which means that today is the one year anniversary of chris cheating on me (to my knowledge) and also leaving me. no wonder i have felt like hell all day. and now my heart is racing and my mind is fuzzy and all the other stupid shit that happens when i get triggered. my throat closing. my eyes blurring. the whole deal. i just want to lie down but i have so much to do. i guess it's better to stay busy than to wallow.


also my cat has been gone since before the storm last night and i'm very worried.

why in the fuck do i think i can be everywhere at once
why can't i pay attention when people are supposed to listen to me
why can't i pay attention when i'm supposed to hear anyone



what the fuck is wrong with you.
why do you sound miserable and whiny all the time.
no one wants to be friends with a depressive or someone who is constantly complaining. this is not news.
you look back at the night, the day, the week, the month, and you remember conversations but not where you were. like your mouth just opens and the shit flies out without you intending it to.
maybe medication can fix this.
how the fuck do you fix this? being unintentionally negative whiny complaining. being never in your mind or body. being automatic fool forever. how the fuck do you fix something so far gone

to try to write a line

i've made a home out of my chair
a cave in my room
it's not as if i don't care
it's just i can't move



i get mixed up
i feel fucked up


i put the pressure on it. i thought maybe if i got to this place after two beers and some smokes and a bug collaprsing on my shoulder and a possum in the bush and the smoke in my eyes and the bugs dancing around the light i thought i could set the mood and the keyculator would work its magic. it doesn't hmake the magic. the smoke blows back into my nose and eyes while i type and it's not very fun. this is not a glamorous life. why does this bug want to keep dying on my shoulder? flailig on the pavement, then my shoulder, and repeat.
i'm astounded by the things i don't notice. i think of myself as an astute person but i'm barely awake and living. there's so much in my head i can't stand. i've made my own undoing.

the day is new and fresh with life
i've seen all my mistakes
there's no reason to return to strife
now that i know the stakes

at the end of the tunnnel
at the other side
if i can get through this
if i can keep a ride
there's nothing at the bottom
there's nothing at the top
there's nowhere like a button
to keep you in your lock
they'll try to blame you
they'll try to tame you
they'll try to change you
they'll try to frame you
you were there in the chair. you were there and you were thinking. you were thinking you were sitting you were waiting you were wanting. you wanted everything. you saw everything. the visions came and stayed. you wanted it all. and you wanted it all at once, right now, here, instant, evolution, propulsion. you were sitting and thinking and it wasn't ever going to be good enough. you had plans but you couldn't figure them into action at the same time. you had dreams but you surrendered to memes. your body sinks and shrivels into a familiar cushion dent. you know you came but you haven't went. your hand finds its familiar place picking at your head. your hand moves to your mouth and your fingers taste like lead. the crashing in the bushes creates rushes down yr spine. you tell yrself it's nothing but yr afraid at the same time. when all you want's a possum but the humans run yr mind. please be. please don't be. please be. please don't be.
i think the trick is not to look.
i think the trick is cricked crook.
i think i want a fishing hook.
yes yes it's true hte words come fast
when yr eyes arent on full blast
the light's deceptive, bright, and cruel
sending yr brain straight back to school
and what a hell and what a mess and do your best and get recess
and yes plese keep on that new dress
and wonder why yr hair's a mess
lady lady lady lady lady
wherefore art thou
lady lady lady lady lady
screaming as a cow
the sow without the baby
the screaming of a lady
the sow whose stolen baby
flown off to run rain yr meat


don't let yrself think about it
just keep going
yr in the drinking
yr into thinking
there's bugs that's flying
and bodies sighing
yr own is wanting
you feel it haunting
yr tongue is heavy
yr fingers steady

best of all i love that darling maiden
who is standing at my bed feet
best of all you laid the bed you made in
and curled up yr own bed sheets
you wish you never thought again
you wish you thought it all
you wish you couldve again began
beofre this same damn fall
now the lights have run past their scene
and scattered the critters gone
and even if it means it's time for me to leave
i'll be damn sure those lights turn off
come back my friend the possum babe
come back my friend raccoon
come back my friend the little junebug
come see if we see the moon



finally the lights are gone
andf finally w're free
and finally my mouth is open
for finally my words can sing


now here a different problem.
the woreds in the air and myh hands move along them
the clouds in the skhy and the beer in the cup
no one ever concined yyou about growing up
it all semed a plot and a ploy to fall in
why not canter, why not banter, why not never fal in
i'm still not convinced they've got more in their cup
when they're winsome, when they lose some, when the grown ups grow up

as if i can keep cracking my neck to make thw ords come
as if i can keep asking the mirror make me handsome
my pants could light a fire but never if i got some
imagine if i wasn't the loose change that makes you choose one
what a bitch what a bitch to epxect others to seelect
what abitch to expect others will select
what a bitch to insist that someone edit
what a bitch in our midst ther's no closer you can get
alright ibreahte you
alright i hear you
alright alright
there's no going over

ifthe truth is that everyone is borede with you
how are you going to wake up
if the truth is that you have nothing to say
how can you
how can you
be better
be better



i've made a home out of my chair
a cave in my room
i've cradled something i can't bare
i've shoulderered too soon
i've gone off the goose
but you know there's no pan



and in the screams of the night
how can i make it right
my hands clack along
i cant write a song
i cant find a way up
i cant find a way out
my fingers crack and coil
my mind shuts a shout
there's nothing i can hear
there's nothing i left out
if i could only stand up
i'd know what i'm about

if i can' tbegin
if i can't begin
if i can't begin

some days i dream i have it all
some nights i dream i never fall
some skies i scream to build a wall
some times i know i scribble scrawl
some things i know i can't recall

i had teh memory ocnce but it's gone
i had the mission once but oh god
wishing i was just living now
stood up once but then i sat down


listen i saw it
lithe light i saw it
listen i remember a thing no one taught
listen i learned a new thing i forgot
if i can see it i can be it
if i can know it i can go tehre
if you can see me that could be me
if you believe me i can be me
keep kissing keep kissing all the hard joints
keep missing keep missing all the true points
th
i've seen the light and i want that bright
i want that shine and i'll make it mine
it's easy now that i've tried a line
this greasy cow and its medicine
just give it hope and i'll give its shine
the ducks apluss with turpentine
you well remember tasting old wine
you wish you weren't so serpntine

how how how
if only if only if only
a click to say the longest feels
a clack to replace healthy meals

i don't feel like i'm living. i can't remember when i last did. i feel like life is just a thing that is happening to me and sometimes it feels like i can't keep up with it, and sometimes i wish it would catch up with me. my brain has been so frazzle scattered i don't know what i'm doing or what i've done. i feel like that is a main part of the problem - i am so unfocused i can't be where i am. i can't do what i'm doing. sometimes the only things i can focus on are the things that make me feel least myself, or least alive -- what the fuck is that about?? why is it easy to focus on a fantasy novel, or candy crush saga, or television, but if i'm actively doing something, the whole world scatters apart and nothing will line up in my mind and i feel insane doing anything. i can't even focus on my own feelings enough to be in them....?! like i didn't want to go to rehearsal and i was feeling awful about the play but when i got there i just turned on goober mode and acted silly but we didn't get anything done and i didn't act like i cared about it at all. what the fuck is wrong with me.

i guess saying things like that isn't going to help. i'm just so tired.

after the flower moon party, on judy's porch

i find that i literally don't have the words taht i need.
this is nothing new. i've said it 10000 times. that's part of et problem. i say it for so many situations. it is true but the nuances are hard to me to define.
right now. i want to sincerely say oh i hope you're having a good time and that's why you might not want ot talk to me but everything i try to say think of saying comes out passive aggressively in my mind, in my type. how can i be kind? can i never be graceful?
maybe i should go and work on a letter instead of waiting for a call.

other thoughts.

i came out onto the porch to find myself in the window of the full flower moon. she's behind a tree now, i can see the peeking but before, my timing was bperfect. we were aligned. i could feel her looking at me. (yes i'm that selfish.)

i have the impulse to clamber up stairs with all four limbs and i do it as often as possible - in homes only - usualy alone and unseen. so no, not as often as possible. my exaggeration makes me a constant liar.
it is the closeness of the floor and the fully body movement and
somehow
better than when i run up on only two feet, the too quick pitpat of bouncing hair and breasts.
clambering they swing, as they should, if they must exist at all.
then comes the part where i try to define my feelings about my breasts and find it imposssible because of the shifting shifting thougthts and how hard it is to think about them at all sometimes that there is no way to make a true statement. sometimes i remember that women name their own, that their connection to them is more than inconvenient sacks, and it shocks me into the remembrance that my dysphoria exists, is real, runs deep, despite how i push it to always away.

i try calling again. i'll give it two. three. four rings. i hang up and feel like a fool. why does this power have to play? why can't i feel rooted and honest in the way i feel in so many of my other close friendships? what sets this apart? what teh fuck is wrong with me?

for some reason i'm smoking and drinking. for some reason i can't quite remember.

looking at these tiny ass photos on my phone and trying to choose which one has the best light and the best composition and the best arc of the foot i am grumpy that i'm staring at this screen and not 8x10s hanging from clothespins in a dark room - why did i have to be now - why are my retinas burning and corneas damaged from staring always at these screens
why am i always saying the same thing
somebody make me write a sonnet
how many chances can i get to say it

patterns - when i look at what i shouldn't

my skin gets cold
my vision blurs
my heart jumps
i feel fuzzy
i feel dizzy
i feel broken up
i feel useless/worthless/pathetic
i feel angry
i feel unsteady
my whole body tenses
time stops
i can't focus
my eyes dance around - i can't focus
i feel hell
i hate myself for looking
i get intrusive visuals of them fucking
i feel like the world is closing in
when i see his eyes i feel trapped
i become small
i try to disappear

rage rage rage
i hate him so fucking much
i just want to spit on his stupid face

i fear the patterns i developed because of him, the ones i learned from him

i want to change
i want to be free
i want it to be over
i feel desperate
i want revenge
i want him to hurt
i fear these feelings
i fear what this has done to me

GIVE UP GIVE UP GIVE UP
no one wants your words

tiny fragments of a dream

the little village of fairies(?) is slowly being possessed by bad fairies / demons. you can tell by their infinite cold eyes that they're gone. i've gotta stop them without them knowing that i know !


earlier in the dream - bekka showing me their house and some kind of escape hatch out the garage door. i remember they asked for me suggestions for improvement (or something) and i said something really obvious that they already had or were working on and they laughed at me. it wasn't mean but i felt silly.

why tho

i came home after two beers with a headache and i didn't care, i had two more, for the first time in at least ten and two days and is that good? am i better? i've been so miserable mad pathetic i have nothing to give. i am thinking of being dead and what ease. maybe my dream was prophetic or maybe i should be proactive. i don't need this beer that i snuck for. i don't know why i need to sneak. i crave the game. (there are so many better games)

how does everyone just make their stuff and do their things and it seems
not easy
but possible
how is it that everything to me looks like anti itself
how is it i am even still here


goddammit if you go anywhere

it takes so much strength in this state not to say it




did i write it? i don't remember.
when i came home after 2 beers after 0 for a week i felt
yuck not sleepy but tired probably could sleep but why bother when i could have another
prowled and pranced
kissed dogs
avoided questions so that old biddy wouldn't have to answer I HATED THE MOVIE I HATE THE COMPANY I HATE ALL THINGS
wasn't it supposed to get better if i wasn't drinking ?
wasn't it supposed to be booze that made my mind lo go ?
i borrowed the beer and i don't know why
i feel like all hell here by myself with: yes i did, there were two more beers, so four and i'm a wreck
the impulse is
tell yr wreck
text someone
let them know what hurt you or if it's late enough only how hurt
i'm trying to not
i'm trying to stop
if i'm true
how i have forced my sad feelings on everyone everyone everyone i know lately
- i used to be so much better at hiding -
i got it in my mind - it looked like - expressing would be better
i thought i saw it
i was jealous
all these people sharing sharing sharing and
!
there they go how
even i've seen them
so yeah okay so what's even real
so i try to let myself feel that impulse
and i'm just idiot speak a fool unhappy garbage tongues or beating down these closed doors or near nonverbal at the shore
i hate it i hate it how i could kill it
is it my turn

im supposed to back off but its hard
especially seeing f like this, yes hi, yes i drank it up
why am i nicer now
that wasn't the deal
why is it i grow meaner every day and seems like more when i'm sober


here is the feeling where i want to call them. this is probably also the thing that tomorrow i would say - why the fuck did i call them so late. how dumb. here is the thinking i will try to say.
i'm trying to keep my distance but it's hard so hard. i thought about saying something. i thought about typing true words. then i remembered im doing distance but by then i've started to open the window so i think - might as well check. and look. there is your sweet little face, you've seen and you know and still you don't speak. FUCK how it KILLS. what the fuck have i done what the fuck can i do. how can i ever make anything okay. i think - just tell them quick, the true thing, or no that's too honest or hurting or boring, no so tell another line - but no i said i wouldn't. because yes that's all i have done for two+ weeks now and i haven't gotten anything back. the method fails. i have failed. again again again.
and even still i think - if i can't have texts that work maybe i can just call and speak clear or even if not that my missed message will be a signal - the one saying i miss you and i want you around and i love you and -- pretty much the things i've tried to say with typed words on a regular basis.
they are too much or they aren't anything.
what a fucking fool.
tonight i'm glad i didn't call. did i make myself understand myself?
i'm always waking up and checking and oh fuxking gods why why why did i call at 4am what was i thinking what is wrong with me
yes yes everything yes yes kill it
i have the hardest time believing in t

death dream

visited by a brief vivid vision of Death this am - so vivid it woke me up at 730am. i only remember the very end. i had expressed the fear to them, "brett thinks when you die there's just Nothing next." they seemed to smile even though they were cloaked and had no visible face. brett and i are lying side by side on the ground. there's no pain or anything. it's almost like it's just Time To Go. we're as ready as we can be. Death tells us it's time. i start feeling different almost instantly but it's gradual, not harsh. my vision is dimming but my body is filling with warmth. the feeling is of comfort. i start to smile but say "wait!" and reach for brett. he folds into me and we hold each other, grinning, dimming. Death peers over me, the inside of the cloak is still a darkness with no face, "does this feel like Nothing to you?" and we are letting go and it feels like fading out and tuning in at the same time. my mind is joining the infinite universe and i'm saying goodbye and hello. and then i wake up !

dream and doings

well i did it again and took a melatonin too late so i'm having a damn hard time waking up and getting out of bed. so much for "fresh and bright" or whatever i said last night. so funny bc sometimes it feels like the melatonin doesn't do anything and other times it gives me crazy dreams and i'm groggy all morning. whaaaa. what's the perfect time to take it? midnight is too late for waking up before 10. (also i didn't actually go to bed till 2am woops)

did have an interesting dream where i got to hang out with will toledo (aka car seat headrest) at the furry convention except that it felt like it was at a commune in the woods - not one i know. maybe mostly like twin oaks. i think i approached him first but somehow he recognized me from seeing a video of me online - sounds like it was a shakespeare parody actually. we wandered around together awkwardly, trying to figure out where i'd left my clothes so that we could get dressed up for karaoke night. we found brett and bosh stationed on a low roof next to some wide tall stairs leading into a building - in this spot on the roof they could get the attention of the folks entering the building - they were giving away tiny plastic figurines and they were serious about it. we couldn't get them excited about karaoke (not yet anyway) and they clearly weren't impressed that i had befriended will toledo. of course the dream ended before karaoke but i remember i was struggling to come up with a song - something i could belt for sure but what ?

as i was waking up i kept reminding myself of the name of the youtube channel that had something to do with both furry and car seat headrest. but it got blurrier and even half asleep i realized it made no sense. (carseatfurcon?) plus willikers was standing on my head.

now i really do have to get up and do the day. i should be leaving already to walk the dogs. i keep getting to them late and it makes the whole day feel shorter. i guess maybe no melatonin tonight?? but how does anyone sleep?!

dead

i don't want to be looking at a screen in this harsh light but i don't know what else to be doing. i want paper but i don't have it. i left everything in the other room and i don't want to interrupt brett and rex bonding and talking sex stuff bc i know it can't happen if i'm around. now it seems also i have the toots. so there you go. i don't know why i'm still awake. i mean i do but do i ? i've been sick and wanted to not. jeebers cries how many of these pitiful journals can i write. how do i know if i'm even alive.

my words feel so inadequate for what i mean to say

this hell scream

here i am way too late reaching out for nonexistent connections when all i really need is paper paper paper. i need to share and no ones there. it's too dark actually to write right here.

some man with curly hair and mountain talk put his hands on my legs, said "you look good tonight," said, "i like your skirt," so i spent my evening being nice while putting myself at a distance. what could i do. i did my best. what could i do. couplet i have done more. what could i do better. what could i not fail at. what could i
how could i not
how could i