Wee little Lamby's Log

every act is political / the revolution will not be televised

2008-10-21T06:19:30Z

Upon seeing bongo's change video, i was thinking about what change i would like to see in the world.
My strongest inclination, even though this is against anything i would have said in any previous years, is don't vote! do not vote. the government has let us down, nay, abused us, used us, manipulated us, lied to us, used is as labrats, destroyed our planet and no new president can fix that as long as we are still operating in the same system. einstein said "The significant problems we face cannot be solved by the same thinking that created them." and to this i say DON'T VOTE! The lesser of two evils is still evil when we could clearly choose to choose good. how you ask? by being the change you want to see (ghandi) and realizing that even thomas jefferson thought the government should be overthrown every two years. "you will not be able to stay home brothers, you will not be able to plug in, turn on an cop out." (gil scott heron)
My mom said that her kundallini teacher told the class to stop watching the news. if you watch it, it bring it into your awareness, you think about it, it perpetuates, it makes you sick to your stomach or worried about those starving kids instead of enjoying your evening. to boot, you are thinking about all of that negativity at the same time as millions of other viewers. think about it millions of people perpetuating negativity all at the same time. masses of cells vibrating at a dissonant pitch, out of harmony with who they are. i've said it for years: why do i want to know about people dying when my job is to enjoy my existance right here right now. that's all i can do. it's the same as the election. i have seen it make people who love eachother fight over it, when there is no reason for fighting.
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the revolution will not be televised...
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So i was realizing how shitty it made me feel that i was being kept a secret. i understand people being private, i suppose... not like i was a 'bad' secret, i was just on the down low. but it frustrated me considering how many i people i know that swing and all their friends know, who cares who knows if whoever has threesomes, i mean they should all be jealous. hell, i tell my parents, they don't care. i got lucky in that regard, i guess. but i realized even more, that it's not about me/the couple, it's about the fact that for me, every act is politial, every word that comes out of my mouth, i do it for politial reasons. that's not to say i do things without my heart involved, quite the opposite. i think if more people acted genuinely from their heart and stopped giving a fuck about what anyone thought, the world just might be a better place.
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a friend of mine said that there is a revolution happening in people's living rooms, in the back of fetish clubs, quietly, on the DL. people you know and respect are probably, that's right, having (kinky) sex. they keep it quiet, so the PTA doesn't know, their neighbors think they are normal, so they don't have to answer awkward questions, feild off assumptions/prejudices, to keep their job, to not have their judgement questioned. all good enough reasons, i suppose. but i have to ask the question: what if people jsut said who they are out loud. i think we would all be surprised at what we find out about the people 'in charge' the people that are 'respectable.' they are probably more deviant than the most deviant of deviants i know.
if our politicians were honest about their sex lives, i think the debate over gay marriage would halt in it's tracks because being gay would pale in comparison to the things i have done to some politicians myself.
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who you fuck is political, what you eat is political, how you think, what shoes you are wearing. you want the government to make the planet better? stop creating waste, recycle, buy biodegradable trash bags, make the restaurant pack your stuff in your own tupperware? you want more jobs? think of a way to make money that the government doesn't know about. you want politial debates to stop being so stupid? stop watching, stop voting. you want the world to work together, stop supporting the biopartisan, in fact, start working with yourself instead of against yourself. stop fighting yourself every day and it will stop manifesting in our figureheads..
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in the garden of good and evil

2008-09-27T02:25:26Z

new addition to the below:
http://ezinearticles.com/?Kali---Goddess-of-Destruction,-Mother-of-the-Universe-and-Ultimate-Life-Coach?&id=838774
in this one watch for weird parallels between the hathor/high priestess article. then the whole weird thing where i only draw one eye...
http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/sekhmet.html
http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/hathor.html
which leads us back to the greek myth of the apple being thrown into a party and paris choosing aphrodite's gift (helen of troy)
http://www.thaliatook.com/AMGG/aphrodite.html
and
Terence Mckenna:
"When we talk about conservative we're not talking about returning to the era of Eisenhower, we're talking about returning to the era of Isis"

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I wrote all of this and then found this later:

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look, up, that's right you, look up. look at the blurb about me above, every man wants to know her every woman wants to be, no, not be her, do her.
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you may want to take notes.
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AD. after death.
ADD angela deficit disorder
Angela- Heavenly messenger
Denise- the daughter of a tyrant
Drown- death by submersion in water... like, you, know maybe a flood or uterus or something...
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amniotic fluid
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the orgasm- the little death.
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"the frustration of eve"
http://img.yessy.com/1795316295-26515b.jpg
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random apple tibits:
http://www.michaelandjaspenelle.com/archive/2007/09/17/the-apple
"# To many Christians, the apple is often named as the forbidden fruit which Adam and Eve shared, leading to their expulsion from Eden. Naturally, this point is hotly debated by religious scholars, particularly since the word “apple” has been used as a generic term for many fruit, including berries and nuts, as late as the 17th century.
# In Norse folklore, the Apple is the tree of immortality. A sacred orchard was kept by the goddess Idunn. She fed the apples to the other gods keep them forever youthful. To the Norse, the apple represented long life, wisdom and love.
# In Greek folklore, Gaia gave Hera an apple tree when she married Zeus. That tree is kept in the Garden of the Hesperides, guarded by the dragon, Ladon.
# In Silesia (now modern day Poland) sleeping under the apple tree or with an apple under your pillow was said to induce dreams.
# In Celtic folklore, the apple symbolized life, death and rebirth as well as healing and youth. It was said that the apple tree was the bridge between the realm of the living and the dead.
# In Arthurian legend, the isle of Avalon (or Avallach) is believed to mean “Isle of Apples”. It is ruled by the Fairy Queen, Morgan le Fey.
# Irish folklore, the god Óengus gave three miraculous apple trees as a wedding gift for the one of the Milesians. One was in full bloom, one shedding its blossoms, and one in fruit.
It was also said that if a woman should peel the apple skin in one continuous ribbon and throw it over her shoulder, it would land in the shape of her future husband’s initials.
# In Druidism, “tuiloc” (mistletoe) is a sacred plant. Because it was often in apple trees, this also made apples sacred. They also had a sacred apple tree from which the Silver Bough was cut and from it hung silver apples which sounded like bells and could lull because into a trance-like state. It was said that the Druids could make contact with the other world through these trances.
# In South West England the Apple Wassail is a traditional form of wassailing still practiced in some cider orchards, it is sometimes called “howling”. It is thought that this practice originated from Pagan practices as offering to the Gods for a fruitful harvest. On Twelfth Night, men would go to the cider orchards with their wassail bowls and sliced of bread. Bread was laid at the roots of each tree and a cider libation was also poured over the tree roots. The ceremony is said to “bless” the trees to produce a good crop in the forthcoming season. Sometimes certain songs were sung (this is thought to be one of the origins of Christmas Caroling.) "
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greg and i always joked about how we are everyone's sexual preference. for me, it always had the subtext, but not someone anyone would actually want. not because i'm trash, or maybe i am, but more because i'm excess, i have too much in me, it needs to be tied up, restrained somehow. i know too much, about things and myself to actually be a part of it, i've eaten from the tree of knowledge... i didn't fall, i saw the world as it was and therefore am outside of it.
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a unicorn when speaking swinger speak is a single girl (that sleeps with couples) she has taken herself out of the equation. or making a three.
my favorite movie as a child - the last unicorn - in the story she has to pretend to be human, go to the coast, where an evil king has hidden the unicorns in the ocean. she falls in love with the prince as has to leave and become a unicorn again. having been human and wanting to protect the prince is the only thing that sets her apart enough from the other unicorns to stand up to the red bull and set the unicorns free.
the only picture i have of myself as a kid that i like is from the county fair with my dad, i had a unicorn painted on the side of my face.
triads, threesomes, i come from a family of three women, all in a sisterly relation all equal, no patriarch. not to mention the three cats/pussies...
three "oh, it's the magic number" we've been over this. Hanging out at the cop shop as a kid, i told Sgt. McHenry my name was "three n lucky" triangles and circles are both based on three. apt9(3+3+3). age27 (3x3x3) mother is 54 (2x27) and was born in 54...
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Reggie showed me and rothe this thing about how there may have been several great floods corresponding to the aeons/mayan calendar/great ages of the zodiac. and that technology (computers electricity etc) may have all happened before and evidence wiped out by, say a flood, wouldn't last very long maybe a few decades at best. starting over. the end is the beginning.
The great ages of the zodiac go in reverse, this is why the jew weren't supposed to worship the calf (taurus) and they were supposed to blow the rams horn (aries) and jesus was the fish-pisces. These ages correspond to the mayan calendars version of the aeons. each aeon up until now has been dominated by a masculine or feminine energy (so say, so far it has gone f/m/f and the one we are currently in - supposedly ending near 2012 - is masculine. the 5th one should strike a balance where the yin and yang can work together)
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francesca, my savior, was telling both reggie and i about how this channeler said the reason the west coast gathers healer types and yoga types and generally people seeking newness (ie: manifest destiny, the gold rush, earthquakes, ) think of everything and the tempestuousness that the west represents. the pacific coast being where the west and the east come nearest to each other, where the yin and yang come to the pacific, the peaceful ocean. We were sent to hold it down, literally. The plates are the most unstable here. We need people who are aware of the energies to stablize this place in this time, that's why there is such newness but also such fresh spirituality on this coast, all the way from canada to mexico.
She also said that the reason for the curvature of the coast was there was possibly a city there and a big thing landed on it - see the lost city of atlantis, los angeles, or as i like to say, lost angeles, lost angela...
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the tarot card for my birthday is the high priestess. see the following (no really, see it)
http://www2.ida.net/graphics/shirtail/tarot.htm
The Tarot High Priestess as Hathor
Kerry A. Shirts
When we look at the High Priestess in the Tarot deck, what and who do we see? This card is such a remarkable card symbolically, that it is near impossible to exhaust its symbolism. Nor will I try in this paper. However, the crown she wears is worth looking at as it suggests the Egyptian Goddess Hathor, a most significant personage. True Isis also wears this crown so sometimes this lady is called the Isis of the Tarot, which is not incorrect, but I believe the crown is Hathor’s and thereon lies a tale to tell.
Here is the High Priestess of the Waite/Rider Tarot. Note the two horned crown with the moon in between. When our eyes gaze upon this beautiful card, we notice several striking things The two pillars flanking her the B and J pillars, obviously the biblical Jachin and Boaz of Solomon’s Temple, are black and white. A duality is at play here, black and white, left and right, male and female, day and night, etc. This is the "Tora", the law of nature from our lives here on earth. In ancient Egyptian thought, as Sigried Morentz has shown, the left was the place for putting evil, the right for good. (er schicke den Bösen zur Linken und den Guten zur Rechten). The expression h'w apparently meant a real place for the ascent of the sun, the place where the sun burns evils (wo sie die Bösen verbrennt). It is a mythic poetic expression for the East in Egyptian thought (mythisch-poetischen Ausdruck für den Osten, see Sigfried Morentz, "Rechts und links im Totengericht", in ZAS, 1957: 63, 64).
Now lets unveil this card a bit. The symbolism is poignant, so lets give birth to our deeper understanding. Notice the veil of pomegranates behind her. What is it? Joe Steve Swick III has demonstrated something remarkable to me concerning this card. Pomegranates are symbols of fertility, which aptly fits the Goddess as a Fertility Goddess of Life. But there is something hidden here. Hathor, the Egyptian Goddess gave birth to the Egyptian Sun God Ra as we shall see here shortly in our translation and analysis of the Egyptian Book of the Dead Chapter 17. But look again at the veil and see what it is. This is the Tree of Life of the Qabalah!
Now the High Priestess takes on a hidden significance of cosmological proportions. She herself is the Tree of Life, the giver of life. Through her even the Gods are born! She is the principle of life, as Sophia, the "Wisdom" and wife of God. She is the central pillar of the 3 pillars in the Cabalah Tree of Life. Her fecundity is assured as she is tree, woman, giver and securer of the "Law" (Tora – the scroll in her hand and partly hidden under her veil) as well as the guardian of the portal, the entrance between the pillars. Life gets by no one except through her. She is the gate, she is the portal, she is the vehicle of life. The Hathor crown affirms this understanding. Chapter 17 of the Egyptian Book of the Dead sheds some light on this. What I wish to do is share some of my notes, my scribblings, transcriptions, translations, and analysis of the Egyptian Hieroglyphs in Chapter 17, and correlate what it says there with what we see in this Tarot Card.
Here is the Hieratic, with hieroglyphic on the outside edge of Chapter 17, columns 29, 30. Faulkner’s translation says that eternity and everlasting are two different concepts. The example as translated here is instructive. "As for eternity, it means daytime." Notice this is the translation of the right handed column here, ir neheh pu hrw Notice the determinative of the sun, the circle with the dot in it in the word hrw = day. Then Faulkner translates "as for everlasting, it means night." The Egyptian words ir dt pu grh. When we relook at the High Priestess, we note that there are two pillars flanking her, one dark (night), the other light (day). Even in the eternities, in the field of time, there are opposites as the Egyptians and the Tarot indicates.
Now here are columns 72, 73 of Chapter 17 in the Book of the Dead. Here we have a description of Thoth raising the hair of the God and fetching the eye when it was sick, and then spitting on it to heal it in the next column, which I will show you in the next picture. But what does the Eye of the God have to do with our High Priestess of the Tarot? Everything once you realize the symbolism in the card. The Hathor crown is the whole key to it. The full moon in that crown is the Eye of the God. In Egyptian Mythology, the sun and moon were the right and left eyes of God. The maid (our High Priestess) as the mother is the wife of the Great Father who is the fighting bull (Wildstier) and the female compliment of the Creator God in ancient Egypt. Kees says she is the rational part of the male/female relationship, and appears as Hathor at Heliopolis. (Hermann Kees, "Zu den ägyptischen Mondsagen," in ZAS, 1925: 5). Later in Chapter 17 we find another interesting context for our Tarot Card. Again, this might appear small on the screen, but printing it out will help you see it easier on paper. It shows up rather well that way. In the mean time I can explain it for you here. What I have done is expanded out each column that is relevant to the discussion, and transcribed and translated it, with Faulkner’s help in his various books and articles.
Column 74 is where it says Thoth spit on the eye to heal it. This forcefully reminds us of Jesus doing the same thing on one occasion with a blind man. Column 75-76 is the important columns establishing that Ra was born from the Cow. Nes iw maa na Ra Mes em sef er, "I have seen the Sun-God born (mes) from the buttocks of the Celestial Cow (Hathor). And the hieroglyph for Hathor, with her crown, is in column 76, the 10th hieroglyph down from the top.

Column 77 is quite important as it demonstrates that the heavens in Egyptian thought, are water. Eref su ennu ennui en pet "it means these waters of the sky." Why is that important? Look back at the Tarot High Priestess at the bottom of her gown and what do you see? The Crescent moon. Notice how her gown or robe looks like flowing water. It symbolizes the cosmological watery heavens.

Now column 78 is also important as it establishes the premise of column 79 which brings us full circle back to our theme. 78 says the waters of heaven are nothing else than the image of the Eye of Ra on the morning of its birth from the Hathor cow! Column 79 says as for the Hathor cow, She is the Eye of Ra. In other words, as we have seen in the Tarot symbolism, she is the Tree of Life. She has the role of Hathor, as Mother of the Gods.
Here she is in the vignette of Chapter 17 in the Book of the Dead. Notice the huge Wedjat Eye directly in front of her. The hieroglyphic inscription in front of her nose says directly she IS the Eye of Ra. Note in Naville’s edition of the Book of the Dead that Thoth is actually giving her the Wedjat Eye.
This is very reminiscent of the Facsimile 2 in the Book of Abraham where a creature is giving the Wedjat Eye to the ithyphallic deity of Min in Figure 7.
Note Isis behind the throne wearing the Hathor crown in Facsimile 3 in the Book of Abraham. It’s the same crown the Tarot High Priestess is wearing. More significant symbolism comes through alchemical and mysticism symbolism as we see below.
Notice the fascinating correlations here. On the left is the world of darkness, as on the left is the dark pillar B in the Tarot. This is when the eye of wonder enters nature. Now on the right is the world of light when the Divine Mystery has passed through the fire and dwells in majestic light. Notice the heart at the center of the cross directly in the middle of the spheres. The heart is at the same place the heart of the High priestess is in the Tarot Card, which, indeed, has the cross! This illustration from J. Bohme’s Wunderauge der Ewigkeit.
The symbolism here is the same as our Tarot High Priestess also. This is Wisdom as the female emanation of God. The spiritual seed of God is realized first through the uttered word of the Divine Female, Sophia. The seed is then manifested in matter through the womb of nature. Thus the title of this illustration is appropriately
"The Heavenly and Earthly Eve, Mother of All Creatures in Heaven and on Earth"

This is what the Tarot High Priestess is symbolizing. Woman is the tree of life, from which eternal Divine seeds are birthed and live. The pomegranates on the veil behind the High Priestess on the Tarot Card are the eternal and unending seeds of the Divine awaiting birth through the Heavenly Mother, the High Priestess. This is the Geheime Figuren der Rosenkreuzer altona 1785. As Walter Scott in his commentaries and notes on the Greek and Latin "Hermetica" notes, the Mother principle, identified symbolically as Isis (our High Priestess card) is the striving toward the good in nature. It is the "productive power in nature." It is Isis, the "living force in matter which strives towards the good." (Walter Scott, "Hermetica," Vol. 3, 1926: 71-72). It is also most interesting that Isis (or Sophia) grants immortality to the King. In the Ptolemaic temple at Esna, Isis says to the King: "To you (I give) the four corners of the land on your support, a long kingship for many years in peace, for the duration of eternity and perpetuity." (John S. Kloppenborg, "Isis and Sophia in the Book of Wisdom," in "Harvard Theological Review," 75:1 (1982): 75). In the Bremer Rhind Papyrus, Isis is identified as the wife and sister of Osiris, who will protect him, guard him, call him forth and is called "Mistress of the Universe, who came forth from the Eye of Horus, Noble Serpent which issued from Re', and which came forth from the pupil in the eye of Atum." (Raymond Faulkner, "The Bremer Rhind Papyrus," in "Journal of Egyptian Archaeology," 21 (1935): 132).
This woodcut from Albrecht Durer, Nuremberg 1502 shows exquisitely the symbolism of the Female as on the Tarot Card High Priestess. The top inscription reads "The Greeks call me Sophia, the Romans Sapientia. The Egyptians and Chaldaeans invented me, the Greeks wrote me down, the Romans handed me down, the Germans expanded me."

The lower inscription is powerful:

"That which constitutes the essence of heaven, earth, air and water [note 4 elements], and that which embraces the life of man, as well as that which the fiery God creates in the whole world: I, Philosophia, bear all in my breast."

Again the imagery of the "World" Tarot Card is significant.
Notice both these figures have the female in the circle of the living green oval of eternity. Truth is female. Notice the four elements [the four corners of the world, the four evangelists, the four rivers of Eden, the four alchemical ingredients; salt, sulphur, mercury, azoth, the four letters of the Tetragrammaton, YHWH, the four cardinal virtues, justice, prudence, temperance, fortitude, etc.] idea as well as the lemniscates involved. Again, the woman is the center, the reason, the force, the life and heart of everything. This is the meaning and significance of the High Priestess of the Tarot as Hathor, the Mother of the Gods.

Finally, it is worth observing that each Tarot Major Arcana card corresponds to one of the paths on the Cabalah Tree of Life diagram. Many patterns are manifest this way since each of the 22 Arcana correspond with a Hebrew letter of the Alphabet as well. Notice that there are three vertical pillars on the Tree of Life diagram, and the High Priestess corresponds to the middle pillar on her Tarot Card, being between the B and J pillars. On the Tree of Life diagram of the Cabalah, we also find the female Tarot Cards aligned onto the Middle Pillar! A most interesting situation.

Also note how the High Priestess is right at the cross (where her own cross on her chest is on her garment!) of the Tree of Life! Notice also the first heavenly trinity triangle is Father, Mother, Son! The three Tarot Cards being Magus, Fool, Empress.
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http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_High_Priestess
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http://www.tarotexperts.com/images/maj02.jpg
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IN THE BELOW PICTURES NOTE THE PARALLEL BETWEEN THE TAROT/TARO/TORA/ROTA AND THE ALPHA/OMEGA IDEA
http://z.about.com/d/altreligion/1/0/M/p/1/levirota.jpg

http://www.newadvent.org/images/01332aax.gif

http://www.cornerstonemag.com/jt/img/tattooblue/ringtats.jpg

http://www.tarot-origins.net/img/book.jpg

http://www.religioustattoos.net/Images/Alpha_Omega/alpha_omega_9.jpg

http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j99/irishgiraffe61/aforadultry.jpg

http://www.redicecreations.com/winterwonderland/erisgapple.jpg

http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/1/11/Sterappel_dwarsdrsn.jpg

http://www.istockphoto.com/file_thumbview_approve/235489/2/istockphoto_235489_forbidden_fruit.jpg

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So, the first time i went to burning man, i distinctly had the impression of being in that show carnivale. i came home yelling about how i did grow up and join the carnival. It happened before that, in joshua tree with rothe, around the fire, it was the 1930's and i was on my way to california in the dustbowl, by being a cooch dancer.
they used to watch that show on sunday nights. The time when i was allowed to be around more than one day per weekend. Anyway, the show stuck, probably one of the best things about the whole mess.
It's one of those shows that you can watch and figure out more and more about. Finally i looked on wikipedia and checked out the history.
"every prophet in his house" I'll do my best to explain this. The first with the avataric blood is a woman and so is the last. These two women are called the alpha and omega. you know, like god, the beginning and end of all things.
from the first woman comes the prophets, two of which are avatara. the avatars are always male and in each generation there is an avatar of dark and of light. The Usher, is the last in the chain of avatara, he is a tattooed man that bears the omega, the end
Here, this explains it better:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mythology_of_Carniv%C3%A0le
The song in the background "love me or leave me or let me be lonely..."
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I smoked DMT and this happens to me:
http://www.cosmicchrist.net/Christian-art-AlexGrey-Sophia.jpg
(read the story about floating in the primordial soup of joy, the goddess, all purple (because the purple hides everywhere, doncha know)
*also note duality, mother versus sex/death.
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anais nin says:
"Man can never know the kind of loneliness a woman knows. Man lies in a woman's womb only to gather strength, he nourishes himself from this fusion, and then he rises and goes into the world, into his work, into battle, into art. He is not lonely. He is busy. The memory of the swim in amniotic fluid gives him energy, completion. The woman may be busy too, but she feels empty. Sensuality for her is not only a wave of pleasure in which she has bathed, and a charge of electric joy at contact with another. When man lies in her womb, she is fulfilled, each act of love a a taking of man within her, an act of birth and rebirth, of child-bearing and man-bearing. Man lies in her womb and is reborn each time anew with a desire to act, to BE. But for woman, the climax is not in the birth, but in the moment the man rests inside of her."
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Luce Irigaray "This Sex Which Is Not One"
read (1) below
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I had completely forgotten about sitting there with too many gin and tonics at the Silver Spoon with the same five alcoholics and that one really obvious tranny singing goodbye yellow brick road. i didn't forget the scene (god, i loved that tranny and the weird guy who would tell me that the man didn't get colors, but of course, we already knew that...) but i forgot the song. that song reminds me of wanting to escape beau, it reminds me of wanting so badly to run away from the reality where you have to deal with working and bosses and money and just play like we were meant to do... it reminds me of the way i feel now, of the feeling of knowing the faerie tale in my head is just a dream land i get to visit. over the fuckin rainbow already, bitches.. goddamn black and white... i want to stay in oz, not just get to visit it via some awesome dream.
"When are you gonna come down? When are you going to land?
I should have stayed on the farm, I should have listened to my old man
You know you can't hold me forever, I didn't sign up with you
I'm not a present for your friends to open, This boy's too young to be singing the blues
So goodbye yellow brick road, Where the dogs of society howl
You can't plant me in your penthouse, I'm going back to my plough
Back to the howling old owl in the woods, Hunting the horny back toad
Oh I've finally decided my future lies, Beyond the yellow brick road
What do you think you'll do then, I bet that'll shoot down your plane
It'll take you a couple of vodka and tonics, To set you on your feet again
Maybe you'll get a replacement, There's plenty like me to be found
Mongrels who ain't got a penny, Sniffing for tidbits like you on the ground"
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Margaret atwood, feminist writer. she wrote the handmaids tale. in my opinion like the feminist version of 1984.
In this book we read in vic's class, she had this whole thing:
"5. The Female Body has many uses. It's been used as a door knocker, a bottle opener, as a clock, with a ticking belly, as something to hold up lampshades, as a nutcracker, just squeeze the brass legs together and out comes your nut. It bears torches, lifts victorious wreaths, grows copper wings and raises aloft a ring of neon stars; whole buildings rest of its marble heads.
Its sells cars, beer, shaving lotion, and desire in tiny crystal bottles. Is this the face that launched a thousand products? You bet it is, but don't get any funny big ideas, honey, that smile is a dime a dozen.
It does not merely sell, it is sold. Money flows into this country or that country, flies in, practically crawls in, suitful after suitful, lured by all those hairless pre-teen legs. Listen you want to reduce the national debt, don't you? Aren't you patriotic? That's the spirit. That's my girl.
She's a natural resource, a renewable one luckily, because those things wear out so quickly. They don't make em like they used t. Shoddy goods. "
3. The Female Body is made of transparent plastic and lights up when you plug it in. You press a button to illuminate the different systems. The Circulatory System is red, for the heart and arteries, purple for the veins, the respiratory system is blue; the lymphatic system is yellow; the digestive system is green, with liver and kidneys in aqua. The nerves are done in orange and the brain is pink. The skeleton, as you might expect, is white.
The Reproductive System is optional, and can be removed. It comes with or without a miniature embryo. Parental judgment can thereby be exercised. We do not wish to frighten or offend.
1. ...
I get up in the morning. My topic feels like hell. I sprinkle it with water, brush parts of it, rub it with towels, powder it, add lubricant. I dump in the fuel and away goes my topic, my capacious topic, my limping topic, my nearsighted topic, my topic with back problems, my badly-behaved topic, my topic that is out of the question and anyway still can't spell, in it's oversized coat and worn winter boots, scuttling along the sidewalk as if it were flesh and blood, hunting for what's out there, an avocado, an alderman, and adjective, hungry as ever."
There's more that's applicable, but enough is enough...
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remembering the Scarlett letter, the red "A" emblazoned on her chest.
being able to see society by standing outside of it. this awesome power to see it all, which makes her not a part of it. the red a. a for angela. like a superhero's emblem. the symbol of the alpha/omega resembles an "A" within an "O", just like the Scarlett Letter that Hester had to wear on her chest...
clearly hester raped dimsdale....

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i have this secret obsession with Lolita. the captain bloomer told me about it when we were in high school.
Lo-Li-Ta. delores meaning sorrow.
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reggie tells me i have to read this 'sextrology' apparently it nails me (no pun intended)
let me just pull come bits out here and see if it sounds like me:
read (2) below

]]> (1)
"About woman and her pleasure, this view of the sexual relation has nothing to say. Her lot is that of "lack," "atrophy" (of the sexual organ), and "penis envy," the penis being the only sexual organ of recognized value. Thus she attempts by every mean available to appropriate that organ for herself: through her somewhat servile love of the father-husband capable of giving her one, through her desire for a child-penis...Woman lives her own desire only as the expectation that she may at last come to posses an equivalent of the male organ.
Yet all this appears quite foreign to her own pleasure, unless it remains within the dominant phallic economy. Thus, for example, woman's autoeroticism is very different from man's. In order to touch himself, man needs an instrument: his hand, a woman's body, language . . . And this self-caressing requires at least a minimum of activity. As for woman, she touches herself in and of herself without any need for mediation, and before there is any way to distinguish activity from passivity. Woman "touches herself" all the time, and moreover, no one can forbid her to do so, for her genitals are formed of two lips in continuous contact. Thus, within herself, she is already two-- but not divisible into one(s)--that caress eachother."
"or else one finds imperatives dictated by the enactment of sadomasochistic fantasies, these in turn governed by a man's relation to his mother: the desire to force entry, to penetrate, to appropriate for himself the mystery of this womb where he has been concieved, the secret of his begetting, of his "origin." Desire/need, also to make blood flow again in order to revive a very old relationship--intrauterine, to be sure but also prehistoric--to the maternal.
"Woman, in this sexual imaginary, is only a more or less obliging prop for the enactment of man's fantasies. that she may find pleasure there in that role, by proxy, is possible, even certain. But such pleasure is above all a masochistic prostitution of her body to a desire that is not her own, and it leaves her in a familiar state of dependency upon man. Not knowing what she wants, ready for anything, even asking for more, so long as he will "take" her as his "object" when he seeks his own pleasure. Thus she will not say what she herself wants; moreover, she does not know, or no longer knows, what she wants. As Freud admits, the beginnings of the sexual life of a girl child are so "obscure," so "faded with time," that one would have to dig down very deep indeed to discover beneath the traces of this civilization, of this history, the vestiges of a more archaic civilization that might give some clue to woman's sexuality. That extremely ancient civilation would undoubtedly have a different alphabet, a different language . . . Woman's desire would not be expected to speak the same language as man's; woman's desire has doubtless been submerged by the logic that has dominated the West since the time of the Greeks."
"woman takes pleasure more from touching than from looking, and her entry into a dominant scopic economy signifies, again, her consignment to passivity; she is the be the beautiful object of contemplation. While her body finds itself thus eroticized, and called to a double movement of exhibition and of chaste retreat in order to stimulate the drives of the "subject," her sexual organ represent the horror of nothing to see. A defect in this systematics of representation and desire. A "hole" in its scoptophilic lens. It is already evident in Greek statuary that this nothing-to-see has to be excluded, rejected, from such a scene of representation. Woman's Genitals are simply absent, masked, sewn back up inside their "crack."
"This organ which as nothing to show for itself also lacks a form of its own. As if woman takes pleaure precisely from this incompleteness of form which allows her organ to touch itself over and over again, indefinitely, by itself, that pleasure is denied by a civilization that privileges phallomorphism. The value granted to the only definable form excludes the one that is in play in female autoeroticism. The one of form, of the individual, of the (male) sexual organ, of the proper name, of the proper meaning . . . supplants, while separating and dividing, that contact of at least two (lips), which keeps woman in touch with herself, but without any possibility of distinguishing what is touching from what is touched.
"whence the mystery that woman represents in a culture claiming to count everything, to number everything by units, to inventory everything as individualities. She is neither one for two. Rigorously speaking, she cannot be indentified as one person or as two. She resists all adequate definition. Further, she has no "proper" name. And her sexual organ, which is not one organ, is counted as none. The negative, the underside, the reverse of the only isible and morphologically designatable organ: the penis
"But the "thickness" of that "form," the layering of its volume, its expansions and contractions and even the spacing of the moments in which it produces itself as form--all this the feminine keeps secret. Without knowing it. And if woman is asked to sustain, to revive, man's desire, the request neglects to spell out what it implies as to the value of her own desire. A desire of which she is not aware, moreover, at least not explicitly. But one whose force and contnuity are capable of nurturing repeatedly and at length all the masquerades of "femininity" that are expected of her."
"Perhaps it is time to return to that repressed entity, the female imaginary. So woman does not have a sex organ? She has at least two of them, but they are not identifiable as ones. Indeed she has many more. Her sexuality, always at least double, goes even further: it is plural. Is this the way culture is seeking to characterize itself now? Is this the way text write themselves/are written now? Without quite knowing what censorship they are evading? Indeed, woman's pleasure does not have to choose between clitoral activity and vaginal passivity, for example. The pleasure of the vaginal caress does not have to be substituted for that of clitoral caress. They each contribute, irreplaceably to a woman's pleasure. Among other caresses . . . Fondling the breasts, touching the vulva, spreading the lips, stroking the posterior wall of the vagina, brushing against the mouth of the uterus, and so on. To evoke only a few of the most specifically female pleasures. PLeasures which are somewhat misunderstood in sexual difference as it is amagined-- or not imagined, the other sex being only the indispensable complement to the only sex.
"But woman has sex organ more or less everywhere. She finds pleasure almost anywhere. Even if we refrain from invoking the hystericization of her entire body, the geography of her pleasure is far more diversified, more multiple in its differences, more complex, more subtle, than is commonly imagined--in an imaginary rather too narrowly focused on sameness.
"'She' is indefinitely other in herself. This is doubtless why she is said to be whimsical, incomprehensible, agitated, capricious . . . not to mention her language, in which "she" sets off in all directions leaving "him" unable to discern the coherence of any meaning. Her are contradictory words, somewhat mad from the standpoint of reason, inaudible for whoever listens to them with ready-made grids, with a fully elaborated code in hand. For in what she says, too, at least when she dares, woman is constantly touching herself. zShe steps ever so slightly aside from herself with a murmur, and exclamation, a whisper, a sentence left unfinished . . . when she returns, it is to set off again from elsewhere. From another point of pleasure , or of pain. One would have to listen with another ear, as if hearing an "other meaning" always in the process of weaving itself, of embracing itself with words, but also of getting rid of words in order not to become fixed, congealed in them. For is "she" says something, it is not, it is already no longer, identical with what she means. What she says is never identical with anything, moreover; rather it is contiguous. It touches (upon). And when it strays too far from that proximity, she breaks off and starts over at "zero": her body-sex."
"And if you ask them insistently what they are thinking about, they can only reply: Nothing. Everything.
"Thus what they desire is precisely nothing and at the same time everything. Always something more and something else besides that one--sexual organ, for example--that you give them, attribute to them. Their desire is often interpreted, and feared, as a sort of insatiable hunger, a voracity that will swallow you whole. Whereas it really involves a different economy more than anything else, one what upsets the linearity of a project, undermines the goal-object of a desire, diffuses the polarization towards a single pleasure, disconcerts fidelity to a single discourse. . .
"Must this muliplicity of femal desire and female language be understood as shards, scattered remnants of a violated sexuality? a sexuality denied? the question has no simple answer. The rejection, the exclusion of a female imaginary certainly puts woman in the position of experiencing herself only fragmentarily, in the little structured margins of a dominant ideology, as waste, or excess, what is left of a mirror invested the (masculine) "subject to reflect himself, to copy himself. Moreover, the role of "femininity" is prescribed by this masculine specula(riza)tion and corresponds scarely at all to woman's desire, which may be discovered only in secret, in hiding, with anxiety and guilt.
"But if the female imaginary were to deploy itself, if it could bring itself into play otherwise than as scraps, uncollected debris, would it present itself, even so, in the form of one universe? Would it even be volume instead of surface? No. Not unless it were understood, yet again, as a privileging of that maternal over the feminine. Of a phallic maternal, at that. Closed in upon the jealous possession of its valued product. Rivaling man in his esteem for productive excess. In such a race for power, woman loses the uniqueness of her pleasure. By closing herself off as volume, she renounces the pleasure that she gets from the nonsuture of her lips: she is undoubtedly a mother, but a virgin mother; the role was assigned to her by mythologies long ago. Granting her a certain social power to the extent that she is reduced, with her own complicity, to sexual impotence.
"(Re-)discovering herself, for a woman, thus could only signify the possibility of sacrificing no one of her pleasures to another, of identifying herself with none of them in particular, of never being simply one. A sort of expanding universe to which no limits could be fixed and which would not be incoherence nonetheless--not that polymorphous perversion of the child in which the erogenous zones would lie waiting to be regrouped under the primacy of the phallus.
"Woman always remains several, but she is kept from dispersion because the other is already within her and is autoerotically familiar to her. Which is not to say that she appropriated the other for herself, that she reduces it to her property. Ownership and property are doubtless quite foreign to the feminine. At least sexually. But not nearness. Nearness so pronounced that it makes all discrimination of identity, and thus all forms of property, impossible. Woman derives pleasure from what is so near that she cannot have it, nor have herself. she herself enters into a ceaseless exchange of herself with the other without any possibility of identifying either. This puts into question all prevailing economies: their calculations are irremediably stymies by woman's pleasure, as it increases indefinitely from its passage in and through the other.
"However In order for woman to reach the place where she takes pleasure as a woman, a long detour by way of the analysis of the various systems of oppression brought to bear upon her is assuredly necessary. And claiming to fall back on the single solution of pleasure risks making her miss the process of going back through a social practice that her enjoyment requires.
"for woman is traditionally a use-value for man, an exchange value among men; in other words, a commodity. As such she remains the guardian of material substance, whose price will be established, in terms of the standard of their work and of their need/desire, but "subjects": workers, merchants, consumers. Women are marked phallicly by their fathers, husbands, procurers. And this branding determines their value in sexual commerce. Woman is never anything but the locus of a more or less competative exchange between two men including the competition for the possession of mother earth.
"How can this object of transaction claim a right to pleasure without removing her/itself from the established commerce? with respect to other merchandise in the marketplace, how could this commodity maintain a relationship other than one of aggressive jealousy? How could material substance enjoy herself/itself without provoking the consumer's anxiety over the disappearance of his nurturing ground? how could that exchange --which can in no way be defined in terms "proper" to woman's desire--appear as anything but a pure mirage, mere foolishness, all too readily obscured by a more sensible discourse and by a system of apparently more tangible values?
"A woman's development, however radical it may seek to be, would thus not suffice to liberate woman's desire.
"there remains, however, the condition of underdevelopment arising from women's submission by and to a culture that oppresses them, uses them, makes them a medium of exchange, with very little profit to them. Except in the quasi monopolies of masochistic pleasure, the domestic labor force, and reproduction. The powers of slaves? Which are not negotiable powers, moreover. For where pleasure is concerned, the master is not necessarily well served. Thus to reverse the relation, especially in the economy of sexulality, does not seems a desireable objective.
"But if women are to preserve and expand their autoeroticism, their homo-sexuality, might not the renunciation of hetero-sexual pleasure once again to that disconnection from power that is traditionally theirs? Would it not involve a new prison, a new cloister, built of their own accord?"

Masochism:
As for masochism, is it to be considered a factor in "normal: femininity? Some of Freud's assertions tend in this direction. For example, the following: "the suppression of women's aggressiveness which is prescribed for them constitutionally and imposed on them socially favours the development of powerful masochistic impulses, which succeed, as we know, in binding erotically the destructive trends which have been diverted inwards. Thus masochism, as people say, is truly feminine." (idib.; p.116) Or does masochism constitute a sexual deviation, a morbid process, that is particularly frequent in women? Freud would no doubt respond that even if masochism is a component of "normal" femininity, this latter cannot be simply reduced to masochism. The analysis of the fantasy "A child is being beaten" gives a fairly complete description of women's genital organization and indicates at the same time how masochism is implied in that organization: the daughter's incestuous desire for her father , her longing to have his child, and the correlative wish to see the rival brother beaten , the brother who is detested as much because he is seen as the child that the daughter has not had with her father as because he is endowed with penis, all these desires, longing, wishes of the little girl are subject to repression because of the taboo against incestuous relations as well as the one against sadistic, and more generally against "active" impulses. The result is a transformation of the desire that her brother be beaten into the fantasy being herself beaten by her father, a fantasy in which the little girl's incestuous desires would find both regressive masochistic satisfaction and punishment. This fantasy might also be interpreted as follows: my father is beating me in the guise of the boy i wish i were; or else: i am being beaten because i am a girl, that is, inferior, sexually speaking; or, in other words: what is being beaten is my clitoris, that very small, too small male organ, that little boy who refuses to grow up."

(2)
"Indeed no other female creates more of a stir; whether in expressing her signature outsized spirit in awesome displays of talent, or upsetting the proverbial applecart int he trademark coups she's wont to launch, or both. Gemini is not a casual or even overly considerate character, easily claiming the title of nerviest creature in the zodiac-- she's capable of achieving the greatest triumph as well as causing the gravest trouble. She puts everything, and then some, into scoring any goal, embodying a take-no-prisoners attitude in each endeavor. Gemini is iconic if not cyclonic, She leaves every circumstance, and indeed each individual, she encounters irrevocably altered in the wake of her presence. ... eventually gemini touches down and settles into an understanding bond in which she may safely swing between her two distinct personalities -- helpless babydoll and ruthless boss."
"The sign of gemini is ruled by the planet Murcury... like the messenger of god of the crossroads.... Ancient traditions likened him to the logos, or word of God."
"as her planet's glyph suggests, with its tiny feeleres and antennae, gemini is forever looking to "put a bug" in someone's ear."
"you might say that gemini guys are simultaneously both sides of their duality (and every point in between), while the twins woman is either one extreme of herself of the other. On first introductions he makes a clear-cut impression--but fittingly that's only half the story. When next one meets her, she may have made a complete switcheroo... She's tough as leather or frilly as lace, depending on the way she perceives those around her and how they may be of use. If playing the guileless, giggling waif works best to her advantage, so be it--but if being the wickedest witch in the western world is called for, she can pull that attitude out of her pointed hat faster than you can say 'my little pretty'"
"Gemini woman risks depersonalization, a condition characterized by a 'distortion in how one's self and body feel,' as a result of splitting off into her signature separate characters, a predisposition that often surfaces full force during her early adolescence. But fear not: She will make it her existential mission to 'get herself together,' fostering increased integrity, in every sense of the word."
"In biblical terms, the sign of Gemini is associated with dualism: reality as percieved upon biting into the apple swiped from the tree of knowledge of good and evil."
"Gemini woman could be considered the embodiment of the two faced Eve-- a self-empowered-female-cum-troublemaking-temptress, or personal-fall-victim-cum-progenitor-of-humanity. To be sure she is no walk in the park."
"Sometimes, like Eve, she's bitten off more than she can comfortably chew. Meanwhile, she turns around and tosses the apple at innocent guys..."
"She can be both catalyst and monkey wrench, a dream come true or someone's worst nightmare. Whatever the case, she approaches life with an unapologetic 'deal with me' deameanor."
"Gemini guy is himself a walking-talking bit of buzzy atmosphere, engaged in a constant exchange of ideas and dollars, wheeling and dealing his way through life, nbegotiating experience with street smart, swashbuckling piracy of Robin Hoof or Peter Pan. The same cannot be said for Gemini woman: the world in which she lives is filled with people who must constantly negotiate her. Gemini is unpredictable as a pixie--after all she is the astrological daughter of winged murcury, god of trickery and magic. Gemini woman's particular talent is to perplex, making people peg her as one thing only to shape-hift into another. If Gemini man is Peter Pan, she is the zodiac's Tinkerbell, that little brownie with the twinkling but maddening personality who is all sweetness and light when in love, but woe to any foe who might stand in her way--articularly those wholesome Wendies of the world for whom her heartthrob might throw her over."
"Just as all humanity as dealt with the metaphoric fallout of Eve's actions, so, too, does every person with whom Gemini comes in contact have to alter their own thoughts to accomodate her. In Greek mythology, the goddess Eris (discord), having not been invited to some divine soiree, gets even with the party planners by chucking an apple (what else?) into the proceedings, having scribbled upon it "for the fairest among you"... long story short: athena, hera and aphrodite all think the apple is for them. So they find this cute shepherd boy from Troy, called Paris, to decide; the goddesses bribe him with gifts: Anthena offers wisdom, Hera promises wealth and power, and aphrodite puts forth the most beautiful woman in the world, Helen (henseforth of troy), whom paris picks, instigating all out war (eris' ultimate goal, to be sure). In terms of archetype, Gemini woman is Eris, just as she is the Eve of expulsion. To boot, she's all three of those uber-goddesses as well... But it doesn't stop there: Gemini is most poignantly the living prototype of the victimy Helen herself; but no less so is she the personification of her vengeful twin sister, Clytemnestra"
"The mythical twins who make up the sign of Gemini are the brothers Castor and Pollux, so so much twins as they are quadruplets: Zeus wanted to sleep with the goddess Leda, who was married to a martal king, and so he took on that swan guise. Nine months later, Leda lays two eggs--in one are her mortal children, Castor and Clytemnestra, in the other are her divine kids, Pollux and Helen. That Castor is never mentioned in the same breath without Pollux, while hardly anyone associates Helen of Troy with Queen Clytemnestsra of Greek tragedy fame, is terrifically telling..."
"Helen is the consummate passive, the face that launched a thousand ships, while Clytemnestra is depicted as a violent plotter and killer of her husband, Agamemnon, whose own brother, Menelaus, is Helen's groom whom she dumped when ditching out of Greece with that pretty boy Paris.
"Metaphorically speaking, the Twins girl is in a perpetual state (read:rage) of adolescence, well into her old age... She is an angst ridden lady locked into a state of freshly awakening awareness, as if every circumstance is one of new and therefore momentous, import."
"the gemini woman, forever toying with that murcurial crossroads, walking a perpetual fine line between vulnerability and perpetration"
"Like Helen and Clytemnestra, the Gemini represents both triumph and trouble, and any association with her is steeped in such irony. Taking up with her is akin to kidnapping a killer: one must always negotiate Gemini's nearly diabilocal diametrics. Consider such famous females of the sign as Judy Garland, Marylin Monroe, Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker...Angelina Jolie, Anne Heche, Stevie Nicks..., just to name a few of the Twins women known for being as potentially disturbing (to themselves if not to others) as they are creatively gifted.
"In business Gemini is a bulldozer in barettes. In love, she is Lolita, a cutesy diminutive form of the name Delores, meaning 'sorrow'--a seeming innocent who'll rip your soul to shreds as soon as look at you--a provacative pixie licking the proverbial lollipop all the while making a man wonder if she's staring at his crotch."
"Gemini isn't much parented at all... as a masculine sign, gemini is natually aligned to the ideologies and sentiments of her father, though she clashes with him, too. Often MIA, he is covert character indulging in secret activity--many a Gemini's father is hiding and addiction or sexuality issue. With her mother, a sisterly relationship is engendered whereby a close emotional bond involves a good deal of bickering... indeed she points the finger at sibblings, whom she cites as having caused her life to be less than idyllic... Gemini might be in a nasty funk than lasts for years, as bitchy to other students as she is unbearable to other kids in her family. BUt all this bile is typically a mask to hide deep hurt"
"In many cases, being 'trouble' is her way of getting back at the world for feeling robbed of tenderness."
"Gemini women are often the face that launches a thousand products...She is bought and sold as a commercial more often than any otherwoman. Think Helen of Troy, Marylin Monroe, Judy Garland--divinely gifted commodities men haggle over and capitolize upon. Though an air sign, she is anything but ethereal; rather she seems to be an accessible pixie, fresh and wholesome but with a signature twinkle in her eye that suggests she can get up to a bit of mischief. She is the original ragamuffin."
"Whether drawing upon the Eve of expulsion, Helen, or Eris, Gemini woman is metaphorically endowed with a controversial character. Just as Helen's name translates to 'torch,' so does it carry the synonymous meaning of firebrand, hellion, agitator, ringleader, marplot, or provocateur, all of which are applicable to astrology's little Tinker Bell. But Gemini isn't conscious of this archetypal weight, at least not wholly so. As the zodiac's daughter of murcury, she is perpetually lodged at his crossroads domain. Controversy, literally 'alternating directions,' is her birthright.... Indeed she is most definitely challenged in affairs of the heart; still, at the same time her experience of love is something many of us can only dream of."
"She is the daughter of murcury after all, the urban god of rabble rousers... Gemini, often regardless of how silver a spoon she is fed from, tends to espouse an urban homegirl sensibility, the proverbial 'hood being under murcury's rule."
"Though she tends not too look both ways at the intersection of love, which might see her getting clobbered, many would give their frontal lobes for such a full-on experience of love overwhelming."
"Unlike her male counterpart, who indulges in the 3rd House attributes of friends and immediate family, not seeming to get enough of this level of companionship, the Twins girl can't seem to escape it becoming a trap."
"For better or worse, there is no such thing as an isolated instance in her experience. For all her lack of forethought, she torments herself in hindsight. Her motto "i think," now carries the subtitle "too much" as she neurotically examines every possible consequence to her actions. Guilt especially, becomes the downside of her Murcury-ruled guile. Suddenly that apple gets stuck in her throat."
"Love at first sight, for the Zodiac's Juliet, invariably morphs into the unrequited cariety, amid a cyclone of variables...perhaps ensuing gossip around her fast mercurial nature. her mind becomes a whirl of every possible opinion others might have of her. sometimes, as is human nature, rejection by an inamorato sends her reeling into a need for validation. ironically taking of what (she thinks) are others' projections, she might fall into a sort of sexual perdition, looking for love in all the wrong places. more gossip. more neurotic thoughts. of any female, she is most easily targeted by often older snakes who see in her an opportunity to assert a sexual agenda. more wanting to please; seeking validation gemini flirts with disaster. drugs might ease the pain, silence her thoughts. she's sending signs of vulnerability. it can become a feeding frenzy. Helen's forsworn suitors breaking their oath to protect her. there is a parallel pattern: when the gemini is creatively gifted, she often has such divine talents, that they, like her capacity for love are immortalizing. the zodiac's precious cargo, thus, is likewise haggled over and exploited by the world of men as a near analogy of the dynamic her love life can take. more gossip. more derision. guilt. self-loathing. nervous anxiety. the gathering storm. The ensuing cyclone: and like dorothy gale she gathers up her all (toto, in translation) and longs to get away, to fly away, like that happy little bluebird. Before you can say Eve: portait of a teenage runnaway, such an exodus of biblical or made-for-tv proportions , we realize, is strictly a metaphorical one. Gemini girl neer gets to Oz. Her world is the black and white experience of good-versus-bad expressed by familial kansas; as we'll see, leo woman, drawing on the huntress archetype, embodies the technicolor chase along some golden path or another, while for the twins it will rightly remain a dream."
"in eve's archetypal perspective of fallen angel, helen's going along so willingly with her kidnapping, or lolita losing her lolly with a pop, we see that it's in gemini's erotic nature to portray the good girl going bad. role playing is endemic to her sex life as, in a way, she's never not engaging in it."
"The innate vulverability associated with the sign is poignantly expressed during sex, where it seems to take so very little to pleas that nervy bundle... she may even enjoy being tied down occasionally, with a steady partner, that is, who'll take her to her edge of how much tactile torment she can take."
"Gemini feels a commonality with a guy who possesses a strong feminine side...she might get off on watching what transpires between two guys, if for no other reason than to satisfy her own curiosity, seeing what she knows most women will never see. watching such a tryst, she is rather unshockable as she can be something of an honorary gay man herself"
"Gemini is probably the most versatile sexual creature in the zodiac. Life lived at the proverbial crossroads see her going where the wind takes her more than any other woman on the astrological block. she approaches sex like a schoolgirl armed with a little four-way, folded paper "cootie-catcher" randomly exploring all directions. no female is more naturally bisexual. anything that smacks of forbidden fruit, remember, begs gemini to be sometimes literally munched, the ruby variety included. If and when she is made to feel she shouldn't be doing something due to social pooh-poohing, the twins girl will go that much farther to cause controversy, the proverbial apple lodged deep in her gullet. ... for gemini life is rather like a staged coup or demonstration, launched from a rather underdog perspective."
"Perhaps as a symptom of that 14-21 age group associated with her sign, the Gemini bird is acutely aware of pecking orders... being so naturally bisexual a character, she will rarely experience all-out lesbian crushes; rather her feelings, even of lust, will be wrapped up in worship, friendship, envy, and the 3rd house sibling adoration all in equal measure."
"she can hold you hostage mentally or free your mind to endless possibilities. she is the flea in society's ear, forever bending others to her perception, making us think the thoughts she silently suggests."

Text messageing the universe.

2008-05-01T22:05:15Z

I stained my finger with the purple potato in the soup that laura made. i thought she talked to me this morning while i was sleeping for like 14 hours (again), but it turns out that was yesterday. Time-space continuum, totally bent outta shape, baby.
Day 17 of everything sucking my balls... i feel like my dad... and my mom, too... stupid pre-programmed mind consciousness system locked in the grid line matrix. stupid stars and moon moving the water of my soul just slightly to the left not enough to see, but just enough to make you feel slightly uneasy...
i can't even sit in the chair long enough to write.
Just like bloomer doesn't want to be one of those people with allergies, i don't want to be one of those people with back problems.
Oh, pot/ultimate cheeseburger/wine/chocolate/soup, you're my only real friend.
angela at ten pm yesterday, in the nest, with 2 liter of diet pepsi and pot pink shirt, green pants, all disheveled... angela at 2pm today... now empty 2 liter of diet pepsi bowl now blackened again in the pipe, ash stained pink shirt green pants... even more disheveled...
"What is my purpose here? what is my existence for?" i open my phone and stare at the screen with this picture of an island beach.
"i don't know why i'm looking at my phone for the answers to the universe."
How do you text massage the universe?

really, again?

2008-02-26T00:20:14Z

mostly, most of the time, that song doesn't do that to me anymore. mostly most of the time rolll my eyes and click next on the ipod and get a little proud of myself for not even knowing where that place was that i used to sink into when i heard it. The way that time would stop and i was actually afraid for a moment i would just fall and keep falling and then you catch your breath only to hear a great heaving sob echo through the empty car on the 405 and the person stuck in the car next to you can even feel it and they look over. mostly it doesn't do that anymore and i am proud of myself, but it's also related to that great numbing. nothing gets to me. sure, i go up and down and i feel it, but it doesn't happen that i can actually feel my soul physically. except when there is the adrenaline of anticipation of pain morphed into that watery flowing quivery bliss place. then, there, that's not even the same. is that what you meant by armor?
i still turn and look and squint and hope at shuffling slouchy walks wearing peacoats and backs of necks and holding a cigarette so close that you cover your face when you smoke it.
letting come and letting go letting come and letting go. breathing in and breathing out. i have a two week to one month turn around. in and out, coming and going, sometimes slowly and sometimes hard and fast, but always in the end not really worth the effort of trying to be on the same page. there is no same page, except sometimes, even when it's not, it kind of is. and i realize how right you were and how right i was and how wrong we both were and how i have so many more words now than i used to. words ot explain what it is that i want from you, no, not from you, but to have an experience accompanying your experience. and it still shocks me in this strange way how much like you i really am. compartmentalize, i want all of these little different parts to my whole, they can co mingle, but there can't be one part over the rest. is it really that bad to want everything that you want? no, but i couldn't even ask for it. out of my space, out of my space, people need to get out of my space...
all of these tasty treats ranging from sweet to savory and i love them all for a bit
i had a dream last night about crazy joel from work, from the courtyard. and he said something about squirrels and gorillas and he yelled "he is the wizzzzard, the wizzard of cheese." Cheese. stop feeding me cheese, no wait, i want the cheese, ok, too much cheese, wait now it's not enough...
the other day mollie named my hosue the house that cheese built or maybe it was just the house of cheese.
remember when you gave me cheese?
no response... .......... ......... . .... ............
and then on the way home i heard that song and it did that thing, again.
is it that the armor sealed it inside and it can't get out and nothing else can come in to diffuse it or what because it doesn't go away.
and then i think about time almost two years almost four almost ten and i can't get a grip on selves that i was and things and people that are dead to me now. that used to make me feel my soul in that physical way and how i don't care, but when that one song plays and everything stops and this black hole sucks the entire universe just behind my sternum and i feel like i might collapse in on myself i wonder what the fuck is wrong with me.
maybe i made it all up, maybe it wasn't that way at all, but maybe somehow you became this great symbol for everything that has ever died in me. or maybe not.
maybe i just broke at some point....

]]>

same person different day

2008-01-12T08:27:08Z

you know when you haven't seen someone in a long time and you remember all their brilliance and think perhaps there is some way you can share their brilliance and yours with them and then you see them and you realize it's all just the same crap with a different pack of naked chicks behind them? yeah... so today i was glad that i am not a gay balck man and was assured i have done everything right... even when my ideas are stolen by my teachers my montors and my best friends, i am still better than that...the angela show will go on... strippers do not a thoughtful show make...

year of the cock

2008-01-10T03:20:38Z

so, thank god for bloomer, she's too smart for words. and we bounce things off of each other nicely and we both compliment our sense of scientific spirituality. it's based on physics and recognizes the miracle of physics at the same time... or something... i mean, she's the first person to ever say to me "i don't call it god, i call it the universe, but i think they are the same thing" or something to that effect, that's how i remember it at least...
anyways, as she so gravefully pointed out... her berfday, 1-8-81, is kinda like her berfday this year, 1-8-08, but that doesn't really have anything to do with me, other than it made me go and look what year this was going to be in chinese astrology... it is still now the year of the dog, but it will soon be the year of the cock, ok, ok, year of the rooster, which it also was in 1981, the year i was born. so hmm. back where i started from... a little, for her too, but in a different way.
bloomer was also so gracious as to point out that the age we will be turning this year, 27, is 3x3x3... three is the bestest number ever... (i believe some rather old posting may have covered my love of the number three, but in case you haven't read that far down, don't care to, or simply just forget earlier contents, i will extrapolate) that one cop called me "three n lucky" when i was a kid, not as an adjective, but as a name, "Hi there, threenlucky" so i began to introduce myself to people as such. "what's your name little girl?" "threenlucky" it was cute... i will tattoo it on myself some day...
three girls/women... i find myself in pods of three chicks.. the most obvious and most important being that of me my mom and my sister. and alter returning in my three chick/wall/portishead dance and when the three girls went to moon tribe without the boys and there were three triangular pyramid shaped rock things in a triangle off in the distance... anyways... whatever, three comes up it's important... it's home-like...

]]> So I've started this year off with a bang... literally and figuratively... cock everywhere, cock cock cock, even i am feeling slightly overwhelmed by the over abundance of cock... it has been a while since i have done anything besides couples, and the intense energy of one on oneness is kinda a lot... what is with the being the mama of the hurt little boys, angela? jesus christ, the divorced guys... all of em. literally and figuratively... i am sick of being goddman mother earth... back to just couples... no breaking my own rules now... i don't need people looking at me for some kind guidance... i mean, if you want guidance, you have to let me fuck you in the ass first, no really, for reals...
I'm looking forward to greggy's show this weekend... orifice... i like orifices... especially my own.. i said out loud for the first time the other day that i like being the girl and the boy with both girls and boys and the other way around and at the same time all of the above... regular is so regular even at it's finest...

eat fuck kill

2008-01-08T00:26:09Z

i had this thought about being wiling to kill off the old, being willing to die all the time over and over, every day every minute. when you pull the death card from the deck, it is actually about birth, about the old leaving to make room for the new. and then thinking about how few people actually give themselves over to death, perhaps only with one lover, once a week and maybe not even then... then we relate that to surrender... the surrendering of your will under someones, if even for just a few moments, perhaps restrained, perhaps not, but being willing to die to let go of your own anything-ness, completely at the hands of someone, you know perhaps very well, or perhaps not. complete surrender. yes, there is the pain and yes the being able to take it, and yes the being the center of the world. (which i attribute to the autism, redefining boundaries) but i don't even really feel that or remember it, what i do remember is the complete freedom. the slate being wiped clean, blood rushing, invigoration, wide eyes, heart beating, ready for whatever comes my way completely willing to receive, receive all of it, the good and the bad, handling whatever stimulus comes my way. having been willing to die, the ego left the building, you were not you, you were the everything, the nothing and you didn't completely submerged, and yet also somehow completely filled up, affirmed in your being-ness in your complete trust. you get to be new you get to have that fresh look.
my back has started to cease being ticklish.
life happens and all of it is good. even when it's bad, it's good.. good bad... bad good...

reasons to hate thanksgiving

2007-11-23T10:54:04Z

if you think of more please feel free to add on...

]]> 1. Let's not even get started on the whole pilgrim/indian thing
2. Everything is closed
3. Traffic
4. Gluttony - aren't you people afraid of the wrath of god already?
5. gravy
6. Christmas music
7. gravy
8. black Friday
9. traffic
10. giblets - i mean they are called giblets, need i say more
11. Old people drinking
12. old 'conservative' pervy men drinking
13. people saying grace
14. people repetitively saying how thankful they are for family and god....
15. did i mention that taco bell is closed?
16. gravy
17. Tahoe
18. Christmas music
19. parades
20. did i mention people?
21. football
22. beef tongue (don't ask)
23. old people asking me why i ruined myself by getting tattoos
24. people 'politely' trying not to mention their grandson's gayness
25. consumerism
26. stay at home moms with big asses and knitted sweaters with autmn leaves and neatly parted hair smelling of white wine
27. boredom
28. gravy
29. Christmas music
30. sweaters with pumpkins knitted into them

female plumbing issues

2007-10-27T00:11:13Z

ok, so every full moon... i get my goddamn period... for a while i thought it was hot m, but alas, it's the moon... goddamn nature and eb and flow and stuff....
i had this dream the night before last that i was wearing a teet coat... at first glance this coat looked much like a pimp coat, but when put on, i was weighed down by all these little animals hanging off of my hundreds and hundreds of teets. i don't remember if they were humans, little tiny people, or puppies or what, but they were everywhere...
um... yeah...
then last night i was dreaming that i was getting a massage while wearing pony/animal harnesses of various colors and sizes... but more specifically i was laying on my belly and my knee was bent so my foot was up and the therapist had an elbow in my butt cheek with my foot up, rotating the leg, getting all of the attachements around the edge of the femoral head... which is my favorite thing ever.
anyways, it reminded me of the first time i ever did acid and i was trying to sleep and i kept getting pictures of myself at a pitbull, me, but just pitbull me... and i decided that i have too much energy and i need to gt tied up and have it beat outta me.

the benevolent goddess

2007-10-12T08:09:24Z

So i passed it off to my left and held my breath. before i even got it out of my hands i could feel that they weren't real... my hands, that is, they weren't real... i could use them, not really fell them, the other feelings were too big, the hands inconsequential. Not in that sinking sucking incapacitating way as salvia. it was like my breath was taken out of me, not that i lost my breath, but it was bigger than me, it was bigger than the room. People's faces became siply relections of light almost impressionist. and then wham. it was like an orgasm, but not that specific and looking up at the swirlying purple light that was being projected on the ceiling, i called to mind the same thing we've been talking about... that indescribable weaving ina and out of itself thing. i won't say that it was a white light, but a goddess apeared, and it was as if she reached out and took my sould out of my chest, not literally... but i felt the sameness as everything else, i would see the fabric of things as if it were made of little bits of light and i was that too... everything was the primordial soup, and we were all just floating in it. i told Octavia that there was nothing to be afraid of, but i meant not just then, i meant like ever, there was never anything ever to be afraid of. swimming in a sloshing briny sea of sparkles and love. beauty begets more beauty. the reverend put his hand on my back and for a moment the same thing happened again. i could feel the exchange of sameness as if something was being taken away, but not in a lack sort of way, it was so warm, and i knew what the people said about my hands being so hot. and the ring of steam being like 3times bigger than the other peoples... i mean it seems silly to talk about magic. seems silly to fell like this goddes, perhaps the same goddess that spoke to me in the desert seems to be telling me to let go and just admit it. swing swing swing swing....

sleeping in

2007-10-05T22:28:53Z

i took the day off of most of my work. called out. i texted jeremy again, he just doesn't respond... it's ok, i'm ok with being the scapegoat, i laugh because i know everytime i say 'what's up' to him he gets all snooty (but just in his head) and flouncess away all uber stoic and gay, but just in his head...
**********************************************************************************************
why didn't i tell you? because you knew already... and if you can't lsten to your own self... then...?
**
again the lack of emotion, just smiling and shaking my head and knowing that a year ago this would have been so anxiety provoking as to render me stuck in the nest freaking out. i just deeply don't care other than looking at it as a silly part of the ride. doesn't stop my good-bad-doer from wanting to jump in and go "poof, betch!" i really want to poof things...
i like this whole "AND what" mentality. i like just saying what i think... or knowing when to back off. sometimes it still takes me a while to say things.
**********************
i think it may be time to get my other nostril pierced...
******************************************************
everything nothing everything nothing everything nothing
everything i ask for - not enough, when is enough enough? when will you be satisfied when will i be satisfied when will the world be satsfied. is satisfied like pacified.
***********
i want some kind of pacifier. some little doohicky bob that my soul can just suck on to keep from having to wonder where my second mommy went.
*******************************************
sometimes i wonder if its real - the pictures i get. It seems a shame really. would have could have been important. would have could have been quaint.
but would you trade it for this?
no
well, are you happy with this?
no, it's not enough. it might be too much and once you get to too much, it's past enough. but then you realize that you've developed this taste for more. eating jalepenos right out of the jar, mutherfuckers.
************************
don't you love the way your mouth burns and you have to eat more to keep it from burning.
****************************
i love my eyebrows
**********************************************
so you realize the meaning of just letting it follow it's path... like, if you think about it, it just gets all fucked up... if you just swing with it.
*****************************
so i only date couples. i don't know why... i often wonder: where will this path lead, oh higher self? if i want a farm and babies, how do i propose that i get this dating couples. there is a high potential for disaster. he likes her too much she likes him... that's the weakness and the strength: must keep distance. distance is good and bad... avoidance? no. allowance is what it feels like. fine lines to walk. like finding the very edges and instertions. al's right... a wuiet revolution going on: allowance invading our homes. too bad about hot dad... mmm i love hot dad...**drool***
******************
mmm leftover chinese food...

space

2007-10-03T08:07:28Z

So back to the holographs (or is it holograms...?) the dictionary defines a holograph as: A document written wholly in the handwriting of the person whose signature it bears.
huh? well, that's not really the point...
*****
it's easiest explained anatomically, talking about fascia. the muscle itself isn't what's fucked up, not the bone, but the fascia is what gets trained, stuck, glued, armored. it's what makes the pattern feel normal... when you begin to stand or sit properly, it hurts. partly because of weakness, but mostly, i would argue, because the fascia is not used to being there... they say that's where you hold your emotions, in the fascia... that's why mongolian warriors cleaned their bones with self-massage after battle, to clear the emotion, the memory from the connective tissue.
now let's take it to the atom. to bounce off (haha, holorams...) of what red said, we are more space than stuff, more space than matter... because of the structure of the atom, the buzzing holds the space so much that it seems as if it's everywhere at once... you know, how the glowies leave a trail after them (ever wonder why that's fascinating on drugs? because it's looking at our own structure...)
why is the potato chip appealing? because of the space. the way the air cracks out of it when you destroy its space with that deliciously sweet maui onion crunch... ever tried a blistered peanut.. the way it crackles when you crunch it is really strange and satisfying, because of the space.
leeann always said the point of props in yoga is to help create more space... that other lady said that thing about not getting stronger or more flexible, but getting out of your own way to give your spine more space. blisters... back to blisters... they create a buffer of space.
but what has been coming up a lot is that place between sleep and awake... red said it, and like three other people have said something about it within the last few days. (goddamn collective consciousness being so up in my grill.)
We are suggesting that nothingness is really the somethingness. In saying this we do not mean things are worthless or meaningless, but we are coming back around to the idea of surrender. allowance. the place between sleep and awake holds significance because it is a place of allowance of receiving and reintegrating...
find the place where your inner ear meats your brain stem meets your spine meets your tongue meets your sinuses and put more space there. it makes you feel kind high... rule number four - everything changes... allowance... enjoying each rung of the ladder, losing sight of the top or bottom and simply observing the view from each standpoint.
so there has been much talk about this space and the (dare is use the word liminality?!@#! no i think not... i hate ucla still...) the inbetweenness.
don't be afraid to not know just give it some space. back off. back off and then back off again. take your energy behind you.
I was massaging some very large people of late. obese even. i remember val talking about wanting to teach the anatomy of the fat cell. a strange phenomenon happens. padding, cushion. trying to create more space. but the thing is where you would expect the fat to be squishy or wobbly, it is taut and hard even sometimes. the only way to describe it is thick skinned. not just plastic wrap tight, but hard and thick. two theories: they are subconsciously trying to take up less space and also creaiting a cushion on the inside part and a wall on the outside part... bouindaries!!! it frightens me when i can't get to someone's neck. like they are drowning in themselves... maybe that sounds fucked... but it was all part of my trip on the space issue...
stress as a status symbol. less space to actually confront anything.
stress = not enough space.
back to the neck - the body/mind divide. the colliding point the place where the brain and the rest of you fight for power, fight for the right to say what's going to happen here. ever wonder why your neck hurts ofter sitting at a desk? because your body is pissed off and it's going to get to the place closest to the brain and say "listen bitch, this is so not okay with me." so when you can't get a neck... what exactly is that saying...
leeann also said not to think about these things too much..
have fun, be happy He says. I thought, first: fuck you, then i thought: that's all i do. Because if that's not what your're doing then, well, then what. it's funny to me that He never knew me when i actually liked my life, in fact, i think maybe this is the first time i have liked it. the first time i've felt like i'm in charge of it. felt like my opinion is repected, like i'm heard. by the universe and by myself. There is more space. to write in, to dance in, to kill the space and then make the space and fill it and empty it and scatter it and collect it.
we were talking about why the playa is specifically a proper space... it's clear. it gives me chills to think about how clear it must be without anyone on it.
sometimes i lose my limbs - especially when i'm getting acupuncture. i feel like my limbs either don't exist or that they are somewhere that they are not. sometimes the room starts to disappear into tiny fractal luminescent bits of whiteness. sometimes when i wake up i feel like i was on some sort of mission, i was doing something important and this silly world thing is just a minor little annoyance i'm dealing with to get back to that place where things were getting done, conferences being held. and sometimes i am so so tired and i can't sleep to save my life. and sometimes you look in the mirror at a funny angle and you see that chicken pox scar that you knew you had, but hadn't seen or noticed or thought about in years. or you find that place in yourself where you stop for a second and say "oh, hi! i remember you!" when you back the fuck off and give yourself the space, anyway...

more avoidance and some notes

2007-10-01T07:17:58Z

so since bashar has been taken off of google video, i've been jonesing... almost enough to actually monetarily support the cause, but i have to read the stalking the wild pendulum book first... but maybe i should finish any other book i've started before taking on any pendulum material.
Rule number 1: YOU EXIST - you exist now, you always have and always will. Is-ness is the only quality existence has. To be. non existence is already full of all of the things that will never exist, so relax.
Rule number 2: The all is the one, the one is the all. HOLOGRAPHIC ALLY SPEAKING: parts are the whole expressing itself as a part of the whole.
Rule number 3: What you put out is what you get back. physical relaity does not exist except as a reflection of the internal. (holographically speaking again, i suppose) if you would like the reflection to smile, you must do it first, and then the relfection will have no choice.
Rule number 4: Change is the only constant - everything changes except the first three rules..

I took notes on the sample on the website until i realized that it was 3am and i was tired at 9pm...
on sticky notes i put them all over my desk.. i don't know why...
the key to manifestation is zero expectation - sometimes life dangles a carrot to get you to head in a direction, but the carrot may not be necessary, it was just the initiation.
behave differently to the reality even if it looks the same
create definitions that allow you to function more simply- blockages are from over complicated belief systems
fear is there to tell you that you are running your energy through belief systems that are not in alignment with who you are.
You do not get rid of things, you transform them - hesitation means no - You highest joy is TO BE yourself - start simple - at every moment you have several choices - excitement is the thread that leads to other excitement - regardless of how it looks, it is making a statement about who you are - instead of supporting who you've been taught you are supposed to be.
critical mass is when there is enought to change the agreement in another direction - spiritual issues and issues of consciousness have entered our daily life - these are indications of critical mass being reached.
Knowingness is surrender - surrender is not a loss or lack of control, but a letting go of who you think you are - you are unlimited possibility - surrender is acceptance, not forsaking.

peppy is my hero (whatever)

2007-09-28T00:29:09Z

i was doing that thing i do when i have no mandatory schedule. a million things on the list but somehow doing pretend karaoke in my underwear in front of my mirror that i have yet to hang up and is all dusty is the most important thing on the list. doing that throw my head back pin up girl pose, ass towards the camera, just like on that postcard they made. They are doing this show together, one that i was originally invited to do, too... i wonder if that means they are talking or back together. whatever (i know, erin hates whatever, but this deserves one big giant sigh and whatever is the verbal equivalent...) it would just figure if that was the case.. dance people and yoga people and animals and pregnant ladies, man, i'm telling you but my gays take the cake on being drama... hense the tern.
i was supposed to go to the civic center and renew my license (already late) and i should have mailed that ticket to nevada, but i have no money for either. Like my dad always says, "pot will get you through times of no money better than money will get you through times of no pot." but then he also says "eat it! it's tastes like candy" and "friends don't touch friends breasts" so what can we take from that lesson? i'm not to sure, but i'm sure that it has been sent for some reason.
I was also supposed to do some laundry and maybe take out the trash.. definitely figure out what that smell is in my car... figure out what to do with my camping stuff since the lock got broken off my storage thingy... too many things... over stimulation... so back to
spin spin sugar... how appropriate... a typical 90's child... a postmodern sleaze...
sunday morning coming down, black velvet...
so i went for a walk down to peppy's and got some eggs and hash browns and toast and ate it all really really fast.
i totally threw up my whole dinner last night once i got outta my car, i was like, just make it to the bathroom, just make it to the bathroom. It was the closest thing i've had lately to an anxiety attack, but that's not really what i would characterize it as...so today i had to refuel my eggs and hash browns quota... the studly hispanic waiter dude was flirting with all the old ladies and pretending i didn't exist, it was weird... sourdough is awesome.
so turns out i'm totally fucking psychic... less noise around to distract from it... i had this dream that robert came to apologize and he took me to home depot and told me to buy whatever i wanted. when i woke up, there was a text from laura that my screens had been ordered by robert. and that dream with dan reaghlt? turns out he and my dad have been talking and stuff... whatever... (hehe)
I feel this weird lack of feeling around not being able to talk to my mom and sister right now.. like, well, i fell like: whatever. i know i did the right thing. it actually works out great: i get to be the bad guy (as my mom would put it...) and she gets to be on the little sister's side so it avoids the problem of the conflict being directly in the home, it gets to be collectively directed outwards AND most importantly, something got done. Zoom out.
Zooming out.. that's exactly, yes... that't another way of putting the whole thing...
so here:
bouncing, boinging, reflection - holorgram, vibration... zooming out... making the whole perimeter... like going up in a plane and your stomach drops... so zooming out - seeing the bigger picture, non attachment (how trite), full circle, zooming out, walking for 12 hours with no destination, just allowing the space to take you where it will. allowing, zooming out.
the rant is still in me, but it doesn't shake my pit, zoomed out. it's just what needs to be done... could feel like a little bit of loss of innocence, but just like that book with the mountain ranges, seeing all of the laters and folds at once, living only in the parts you want to. it doesn't really matter, just a ride... jump off: see what happens, bounce off, detach...
mostly i don't want to drive down there, like ever again. i hate the south bay, so goddamn pastel... blech... i like throwing up my dinner more than i like stupid fucking hermosa beach and the stupid fucking spa with pretty glass walls and pretty colored rocks that say things like "breath" and "joy" and "gratitude." and it has little waterfall foutain thingies and soaps and creams and butters with all kinds of smelly fruity sugary smells... yoga people.. jesus christ, man...
meh... mehh... meh....
next week should be better....

ok so maybe i'm bored

2007-09-24T06:21:04Z

I've reached this plateau-ing ish point. Where even if things change, like if Robert keeps being a bungholio and i have to move, it's like not that bad... i know i'll probably do what i'm doing for a while then go be a pt, blah blah... more of the same stuff... stuff i already know and they'll make me sit in an uncomfortable chair to learn over again...
that thing about how my joy is just a wave on the surface of my sea of despair... strike that reverse it... sadness is a ripple on my sea of happiness,.. or it's the same both ways, it settles in, way down at the bottom of my ocean... slithering smoothly along the bottom. It's so still at the bottom... tumultuous at least distracts you... being caught in the storm at least makes you actually have to do stuff to survive...
My anxiety has left me... i can't find her anywhere... that old friend of mine.. it has been replaced with either a deep tiredness, a deep contentment, a deep melancholy, a deep tone, a depply wanting to or deeply not wanting to.. but it's like oh, i'm lonely without her... and nothing surprises me anymore...
ah, such an adrenaline junkie... mmm sweet sweet adrenaline... that you get before you yell at someone, before you tell them everything you ever wanted to yell at them, before you get the first sting of the crop, when the dull and busy buzzzzz of the tattoo needle lights up the room and the artist places a firm hand on you and it's any moment until touch down, when they place the clamp and you know the only thing left to do is breathe. thump-thump, thump-thump. pounding in your chest and then - zoom sensation and time is both infinitely fast and slow and minuscule and huge... the thing isonce you've got a grip on some new stimuli, you need more stimuli... stimuli of your choosing...
So anyway, back on point... there's something about me that's deeply bored right now... seeking new stimuli... maybe that's the good of living alone(ish) - that you aren't overstimulated by people's energies all the time, so it forces you to seek out other energies, vibrations, orchestrations... like i signed up for fire dancing finally and i paid for it so i better do it, but i think i will actually do it because i'm seriously bored to all fuck right now... despite the fact that new things seem to be happening all around and exciting people are making me realize how exciting i am. something deeper than that, like being itchy for some art project or magical inspiration, some new adrenaline rush... even my rants don't seem as fully explosive as before, there's a flattening out... like oh, robert's a cunt, but then i sigh and say fuck it, but then i bounce back and say "must....fight......good......fight....." but then i really just want to turn on a goddamn tv and just give it up to the neon god like everyone else... what did bloomer say she did in lieu of tv? groom? fuck grooming, i'm going for the greasy hippy look. wait, when is grunge coming back? i think it's about time for some apathy... goddamn plateaus... "bucket and a mop and you can't stop and look at what you've done. the plateau's clean, no dirt to be seen and the work, it was fun..."
i shouldn't bitch... i needed some good ol' resting time. but when i find myself blogging this much it kind of makes me worry that i'm not actually lving life, just commenting on it...
alone and surrounded, alone and surrounded, alone and surrounded...
our culture is seriously fucked... no really, man... i just don't understand how we are so packed together and so isolated at the same time...
i blame the over-stimulation...
so just like how at burning man the lights and sounds are like selected to be like positive or like something, man...
mishmosh of blare and blinky and intoxication and noise honking pogostick fucking kids screaming.... overstimulation... does the oposte of shaking it up, weighs it down... confuses... makes you walk in circles around yourself... makes you attack your own tail...
seriously folks... i'm not kidding...of course you get bored when your molecules have no focus, no wonder we hibernate, no wonder we shut off... just make it all go away... just make me not have to think, have to talk over this, talk over you, try to get a word in edgewise...
my mom always has this look about her when she speaks like she thinks it's impossible to see her... i know how that feels. oh well, whatever, nevermind...