face down smack on the pavement
smack in the middle
of the asphault cold unforgiving road divided with a yellow line and dry as the dessert beath it and no tears will mourn her passing and a frat boy told me as we stood gawking at the dead girl dead body scene that she is dead and he had a smile on his face and it was awful.
to the greek row: just like you wouldnt take me commands if i were so pretentious, i wont take yours either. stop telling me to bend lower so my ass is making your dick hard stop telling me that i should make out with you stop smiling when someone dies fucking feel and fucking live and yet i still sell my ethics because i know why and i dont want to keep typing because im just like you. and i get low.
home is the only reason why I stayed home an extra week: grandma. Last night we hugged for what could have been the last time. If western medicine saves her only to weaken her power, her dignity, her morale in recovery expediting death, there is a chance I could see her over winter break if the plans to overdose she spouts don’t take her first. She promised me I’d see her over break, what is in a promise, she promised me, what’s in a promise.
The more difficult part about being old and approaching death, she shared with me, is that she wants to know how everyone life will turn out. She believes in me more than anyone in the universe. She loves my song: my writing my poetry my colors my art my words my humor. She thinks I am destined for Washington DC. Granted, she talks about Obama like he has been assassinated ( those poor little girls, too bad their dad dad was shot for what hes doing to health care. Because he is black? No! he could be red. This health care thing will get him shot). She thinks the senior citizens of America will riot.
We said goodbye, in case.
At the end of packing, the day, the summer, eras, titles like granddaughter, intern, girlfriend, and soon to add student, at the end of it all it is all pauses and beats , rhythm and tone and the intonation of my voice may scavenge trails towards the highest pitch and slip skip a beat fall flat onto the baritone barricade and like a cello’s string I may quiver and but I shake it off and sure enough cold blues dissipate and my life rises higher like heat once again and at the end of it all, it is all FLOETRY. Archived as my favorite music video for a long time, and probably will be…indefinitely.
also note to self. remember. thoughtfulness is delightful. practice it. accept it.
If you call australia over your morning cup-o-jo i bet they wont anwser. bvecause they’re sleeping. because morning has meaning tailored to its context for each person, position, sciety, etc.
just got home. almost 5 am. day was outrageous. example. drove stickshift, as passenger, for first time fromtop of portland down and wow i am wow goodnight
the night before it
and every night starts
earlier and no sooner
than last nights galorious
summer night misted at dewy dawn
by only the miraculous
certanty that I am so full of something
that exudes a presence or energy
that is fueled by the enthusiasm that
laughs between friends
old and new and super new and age old friends
I have felt so alive recently like im proud
to be me whoever i am
walking as me, whereever i am
side by side with a best friend
into any number of out of this astro
logical world environments we arrive
because in the end the strangers are sad to see us leave
and invite us back again.
It feels incredible, this active engagement.
this laugh of a life or life of a laugh of mine.
Also, another bit related to “funny”: earlier i had to recreate my apple identity and on their help page, I think iSpotted a bit of self deprecating humor. Maybe even mocking–
Note: Passwords can be recovered by going to iForgot.
Great night. Fantastic, in fact. It is 4:22, just got home, going to bed, excited for tomorrow. Jotting this down so i remember the gillion jokes that make my face sore from smililng now.
Paint the town. What color? White. Is She drunk again? Is she Jerkin’ it? Not by the tree, please, she is not a barbarian. Nathan Bat Net. Bilbo Douche Baggins. Jail tat covered drunk man stubles by stoop at 4 am asking if were jewish
Feeling this good is usually associated with illegal activities. It doesn’t happen often, so enjoy it. While you’re grinning at anyone and anything handy, you might also keep in mind that you can accomplish a lot if you jot down all the inevitable inspirations you’ll be receiving.
Sob and smile at the same time. Celebrate tears when tears take form and fall like liquid emotion to testify and wash over blurred eyes perspective so sound so unconditionally, inextricably comes forth case and points inward outwards place in space and part of the collective human condition. To cry is to precipitate, waterfalls from lash laden canopy umbrella framing cloudy eyed-vision. To tag loneliness as impetus for chocked-up howls escaping like sine wave clumsy thunder bolts moving like molasses towards a better yesterday is to ignore the narcotic nature of the beautiful ability to connect with ever human who once was and will be who comes out of the womb crying, chord cut, coming into the human condition. Umbilical cord gone we all share a similar song and she weeps and reminds us that we share one womb in our collective condition.
Today it stuck me when I watered my daydreams with tears watching morgan freeman on film that I have cried less since we broke up than the salty, bitter oceanic river filling wells of wasted and fabricated wounds created and contaminated towards the end of our relationship. And when I have criend those tears were liberating, i felt i feared i fled i felt i feared i fled, i practiced compassion for myself and gave myself respect to introspect and sift through the good the bad the ugly in my mood, i came i saw i conquered i came i saw i conquered i came i saw i conquered and I feel free, relief is a still pond filled with tears and after i visited that site and absorbed that moment in time I moved on with my mood and the stain that anger and hurt used to leave behind after I’d cry may have evaporated because that feeling of hurt and helpless and hopeless everlasting rage was a faucet untampered, never triggered to turn on, what I felt was mine to and I feel free.
||Jupiter Trine Mercury
||Jul 28, 2009 to Aug 13, 2009
You can pull it off — no doubt about it. That’s what everyone is telling you, but you need to really believe it. Then, of course, there’ll be no stopping you. So what are you waiting for? Imagine the celebration afterward — then go after it!
I asked myself this very question one week ago. I visualized what I thought grace would look like. I reached into the archives of my mind, mining for golden nuggets of the sacred goddess’ graceful archetype in a golden era past and tried to actualize their ambrosia glow in my physical, emotional, and mental being.
Today, a coalition of situational variables coalesce into the perfect storm. I accept the circumstances. They are here and hanging overhead and within but they will not remove me from living my life or my happiness. I accept the circumstances. I shine on. And through practicing this grace, I find myself positioned in the eye of the hurricane.