it feels moist
I put my fingers in the dirt
through the mulch
and cigaret butts
I planted seeds
where's the rain?
I was promised rain for a week!
the light was the same when I went to sleep today
as when I woke up
but that was all squarely in the day
though it looked like twilighting
it feels moist
even if there has been no water fall today
and the little patches of earth
cut through the cement out there
are just as filthy as they were
when I was with them
I've been rolled in a ball the whole day
spasmed like sleeping cats and snapping turtles
songs from my youth
and some fifteenth century incarnation
I want a name and a face
one that works
gets things done
lures in the ladies
and the sharks
my salt lamp isn't cutting it
and I can't seem to find the sun in my heart that I swallowed last decade
the light is dim
not even wet
I need cleansing
I need blooming
giant turtle's eyes
don't blow your mind with "why"s
it feels moist
these are the clothes I wore today
made for me by a lover
given to me by a lover
"lover" pronounced "friend"
though I woke late
and forgot my dreams
I streamed down through the rain
and shared a smoke with him
then visited the gardens
where there were many people I knew
and we're glad to see
like at the gathering
everyone I talked with
I found an excuse to break from quickly
to get away
and though I didn't consider it then
was it because I was being challenged by them?
asked to be present to myself in a way that scared me?
or asked to be present to them in a way that scared me?
is that the same thing?
and does my lover's judgements of them
as "not being good enough for me"
stand for my own as well?
not to waste my time with this?
(better to waste my time alone?
I'd rather waste it with you. . .
I'd rather make something beautiful
where do I go. . .
what do I do for that?
could any of them helped me?
maybe we were all beautiful together
these days are beautiful
and the three of us walked
to a Thai restaurant
feasted, though I did not feel like eating much
as most of the times I've eaten in the last two years
when I start eating
I feel it's too much so quickly
we met mr kitty for the show
after sitting on planters watching men with deformed testicles bulging out their pants
and the other and old lady man returned from Florida
I pointed out the feline visage to my lion friend
and say through a show I was ready to leave a quarter into it
some of these performances are gifts
bending of life
beauty and pain
some are tedious tests of endurance
this was like a weak mix cd that I just wasn't interested in
though some of it was
but that's not what I meant to say:
or how I meant to say it:
but they took our picture
"did you love it?"
didn't love it
"you should be in it"
I should do something good
and we walked back across
and taxi'd back to his house
to look at a book from the 80s on Hashish
then walking across town to buy some junk food for the ride up
respond to text messages of my friends and lovers
ride the train
try and tell the tale
lost the meter today
the arrangement of will
rest taking precedence
necessity from last night's unwinding
from my romance with distraction
things work as they do
and I walked through the old city
struck by the beauty
the beauty I live in
I met them at the Famine Memorial
the Hunger Museum
ah, the rocks from the island land
told a story
the had frayed seams
high on truffles
excited and motivated over to Brooklyn
we ate burgers
which seemed crass to me
am I really becoming a vegetarian?
ate more truffles
they gave me their presents
and another movie
that's the same way the Alien died
this movie inspired so much of my sexuality
it's funny to see the story that made us
how I believed
I was a bride to darkness
wished to be seduced to the office
wrestled with it
the beauty of the faerie kingdom
but how sexy
how much have I been married?
to what and what and what?
true love still lives
but we went to his home
spent time at a friend's home
after eating icecream in father demo square
I've always loved
for the evening
I went home
and kept myself distracted and entertained til dawn
so grateful for rest
so grateful for home
so grateful for friends who love me
the ones who I saw today
and all the others
the wind that chilled me
the servant and artist who listened to me
the food that entertained and nourished me
the gift I had to give
the stories that I told
the storytellers who screamed it put on stage
and walked with me through the rain
telling some story about meeting people who tell me they've read my journal for years
and never contact me until they hire me for a massage or something
everything I've been writing this year is private
and I've been writing a lot
and we're a quarter through the year now
and hardly anything is visible to the casual reader
but anyone who's read me for a long time knows I occasionally stop writing
well... I'm just telling you
I'm doing a project this year where I'm writing everything I can see for to write every day this year
but making it private so I don't have to be polite or discrete or in any way secretive
if any of you want to hear any tales or answers to any specific questions
feel free to leave comments about it and I'll reply as soon as I am able
I spent my final morning away
it was a good trip
but I won't do it like that again
I'm getting more settled
want to be home more
love my friends and my life
and wither missing it
tired and groggy
I snapped some pics in the baby's bedroom I've been squatting
I liked this one
I've just touched down in my home down
I'm going to go get a taxi home
then run out
and make love with the city
see you soon
I wrote some fancy A+ essay about it
quoting "head like a hole"
raging on into the night
I had been raised by good people who believed they came from poor, struggling families
that would have been happier if they'd had more money
I was expected to go to school
and from there into further schooling
and from there into some career track
all in order to make money
and make more money
I resented the whole proposition
because I had no interest in making money
and all of my interests withered in the fire of my anger
fed by the willful ignorance of the importance of action through interest; love
supplemented by the ultimate goal: to make money
it should have been a leg on the body
but it was the whole world
I understood it then
but had no perspective
in the discussions I've had over the last two weeks
with my priest friend
grinding me into frustration
to look at aspects of the world that irk me
and I avoid to keep myself from despising
I saw that pattern evident as the root of the problem
Why did our governments sell out to corporations and greedy confidence tricksters sacrificing any sustainable future for quick highs?
why do men destroys the present and future lives of the majority of our population in order to amass more theoretical-number-(not actual)-cash than they could ever possibly use? why have these "rich" people of "the 1%" chosen to abuse "us of the 99%"? And why do "we", especially those most oppressed by this system, believe siding with it will save us from it?
we have been trained to make money. increasingly so, that is all.
for months now I have been imagining a curriculum starting in the earliest of schoolings educating people in emotional literacy and articulation. developing their own "conscience", or individual moral compass. it only now occurs to me that nearly everything I was raised to do was organized not around wholistically experiencing my human life on this fascinating and beautiful planet, not even on other realms available to me from, through, and beyond Here; but primarily to Make Money. As I perceived it in my earlier youth, to transform my life into coin.
the notion is just as utterly offensive to me as a kid as it is to me as adult... but this way of being persists... and the myriad abuses against this wondrous life that I suspected in my ignorance seem only to have more evidence in my experience.
I know that paying attention to these things gives them more energy... but does my ignoring them help to defeat them? must I become monstrous with them in order to help in the battle against them?
is my naturist's jihad against the world of the businessman in error, like all wars are?
I should not even begin...
but seeing this american black man sitting next to me on the plane reading a book by donald trump about getting rich after listening to Leo winje on about how fucked up the world is for two weeks just infuriates me
I'm so grateful to be heading to spend two weeks now with the infant and the toddler
speeding head-long into life with complete openness and enthusiasm and raw sensitivity
please bless me with the presence to set a good example for them
and all I may...
(written on the plane from Oakland to Phoenix at 17:53 CA time, Thursday the 26, 2012)
I don't like secrets
and I don't like lies
they wear me out
I feel they are both necessary in this world
it perpetuates it
but that's part of what we're doing here: keeping the wheel spinning
and we're all expected to play along
I once prided myself in keeping no secrets
now I feel it increasingly necessary to have them
and am often pressured and frustrated by the need
but because of that I have been writing every day on here this year as "private"
so only I can write it
so I don't have to write around any topics
and I don't have to change or avoid any names
and I don't need to be polite or nice
the writing has always been more important to do than to have it read
as far as I know
but I miss singing into the wind
I'm trying to figure out how to make more interesting creations to share
maybe I will someday
I'm going to sleep now
Posted via LiveJournal app for iPhone.