talking of Michaelangelo.
Thursday, October 27, 2016
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// 8:28 pm
Can't live with it. Can't live without it.
So now what?
Monday, October 24, 2016
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boon of blu // 8:32 pm
Free, floating with the sky. The shimmering ripples of light flying through that water with you. The ceramic blue tiles twinkle carelessly and free. The pattern of light are birds moving under you as you move. The buoyant you, letting all that's around you strip away and away and away until you too are no more and no more. (You are that enigmatic squeezed wedge of lemon bouncing in the calm current.)
The sky was a painting, a crack of sun with the clouds just peeking out from the mountains.
In the womb, your auditory sense developed first. In the hum, drum and mumble of the water, you are back there again. The muffled senses, all a bit blurry.
You're all by yourself, all by yourself and no one watches you. Idyllic. Liberating, but distracted. I need to do it again to really lose myself.
(Love that lingering smell of chlorine all over me.)
-
inverted colours // 3:17 am
It's late and it's time for the flood of monsters that dance out only at this time of night. Now either you sink, you swim or let it take you far far away to scary land where things aren't really that scary after all. (There are scarier things. But you don't know what they are yet. Or at least you'd rather not see them. But that's dishonest too.)
Nothing much happens now, you lie there and let the nothing of the night take you.
Just rest, he says. You don't have to sleep. Just rest.
Friday, October 21, 2016
-
// 9:11 pm
I think I just ate some air and pooped out a cloud.
Thursday, October 20, 2016
-
// 9:06 pm
"Liar. You're lying to me."
"We promised not to lie to each other."
Those eyes.
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disconnection // 4:18 pm
I am a cat in some misty room with mirrors framed with gold and aquamarine ornaments with gold trimmings. Wisps of hookah smoke float around me, it's a fruity smell and I'm drowning and drowsy in the fog. I claw at a ball of thin gold string that unravels and unravels and I just want it to make it a ball again, but it's too far gone and the string is everywhere and it's a mess and and it's a mess and it's a mess and I'm a mess and I can't get out. It's out now, and it won't come back. There's gold and glitter everywhere and the smoke is turning into a film of dampness, blanket of moisture on me and I'm cold. I'm just cold and everything is a mess.
Cat dreams.
Sunday, October 16, 2016
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// 11:53 pm
It's so moving to be by a roaring, tumbling, churning ocean under a bright, nearly full moon. It builds, and then with a force so alive in itself, rushes forward in white spray and foam and CRASH! I could close my eyes and be there forever. And in between forever, I could
be. I could exist in that dimension of sound and darkness and be the water but not really and just
be. I need to be there and feel that again. Oh, the breeze blows you away to another place.
Friday, October 14, 2016
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hey Mr. Tambourine man, play a song for me // 1:51 pm
Then take me disappearin' through the smoke rings of my mind
Down the foggy ruins of time, far past the frozen leaves
The haunted, frightened trees, out to the windy beach
Far from the twisted reach of crazy sorrow
Yes, to dance beneath the diamond sky with one hand waving free
Silhouetted by the sea, circled by the circus sands
With all memory and fate driven deep beneath the waves
Let me forget about today until tomorrow
Thank you, Mr. Bob Dylan
Thursday, October 13, 2016
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hairy heart // 11:10 pm
tighter you squeeze, easier you'll lose it all
keep your hands to yourself, child
Stop thinking the worst.
Wednesday, October 12, 2016
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walk, stand up and walk again please // 10:03 am
take from me
take from me
hairy heart, you vagabond
your wandering mind giving grief
pricklings of imagination enough to turn a smile
deep in the night,
in the folds of yourself
tripping up again and again
clawing my way out
breaking through and breaking out
but
where is the crack?
has it sprung open so wide...
can't even see with clarity anymore
I thought I was dreaming,
there were sirens screaming
the futility of writing words and words with no meaning
when will my catharsis come?
blurry, it's hard to walk
-
up and back and so forth // 1:47 am
swing of life
up and up
back and back
a slip and a skip
shards of strife
tipped over
tripped and ripped
up and up
rain sounds
back and back
up and up
FLIGHT
no going back now
[Exeunt all]
But isn't that all we have? Words and words and all devoid of meaning.
Monday, October 10, 2016
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found // 1:12 am
I felt so present and
so alive today.
I needed to write down and remember how alive I felt today.
Sunday, October 09, 2016
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a different kind of existence // 1:31 am
I snapped awake, but it wasn't me. Where the fuck was I? Lost. I had lost the reins, the grip on myself (again). Strokes drum beat in my ears and I thought I saw long streaks of trailing rain along the side windows of the bus -- but that was two nights ago. So, where or when did I go away from myself?
Too many late nights on buses and too much tears and blood these days. Instead of letting fear overcome me, I stripped the fear away from the lost place. I saw the yellow bars and purple seats of the bus, but it was all too physical, I saw them in shapes only. Took the form, the symbolic form of the shape away from it. But the thing in itself felt way too physical. Hyperreal, if that could be termed, but so hyperreal that the meaning of its actual being floated away from it.
The ground felt different too. With each step the form of the ground lifted up to meet where my feet stepped. But it wasn't THE GROUND as it is interpreted that way. Everything was suddenly TOO physical. TOO tangible, but unreachable. But who were the shapes moving past me? Did they define who I am? Who I was? Does the mutual interchange of perception make me, or them real, or not?
Is this what taking drugs is like? I am my drug?
COME BACK some conscious thing in me shouts WHY SHOULD I is my call back
Where did you fall down this time and why are you letting yourself go further from yourself
Ages ago my drawing teacher told me to look at a thing and take the essence or meaning of that thing away from the thing itself. Instead, he told me to focus on the physical forms or shapes of that thing. I never knew what I was supposed to see, but now I SEE but I don't really know what to make of it or how to interpret what it's supposed to be.
So which is the
real real? I need to go back to that green place again.
Where did I leave myself?
Friday, October 07, 2016
-
// 10:41 am
You do you, girl.
You do you.
I ain't wasting no more time.
Thursday, October 06, 2016
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cut it and wait for it to bloom again // 8:10 am
Delilah feels so frail. The leaves lack moisture. She grows in some adverse conditions but she's a strong one, even able to bud without my company. Walked her to the bathroom sink to relieve her thirst.
R: Don't you want to cut the dead stem off?
K: alarmed What do you mean?
R: holds out a pair of scissors Let me help you.
K: No wait, what are you talking about?
R: This stem here, it's white and dead.
K: So, you just cut it off?
R: Yes, a new one will come in place of it.
K: But...
R: Why do you want to leave a dead thing there? It takes away from the beauty of it.
K: uncertain. When will a new one grow?
R: In a few months, it'll regrow, like a rebirth and it will bloom beautifully. Give it some sun, care, water. cuts it off without asking again
R: See? Now you're free from looking at some dead thing.
Thank you, I needed that.
[/some kind of ironic pathetic fallacy][/cliche]
-
a time for rumi // 3:20 am
Late or early or whatever it is. You're going to fight or struggle or cry, anyway. Might as well lie there and let words run over you even if you half don't understand it. Walk into that sandstorm and let it swirl and take that pain standing, no matter how much you've already slipped and fallen.
But the question I keep asking, isn't it so lonely? Isn't it?
O you who've gone on pilgrimage -
where are you, where, oh where?
Here, here is the Beloved!
Oh come now, come, oh come!
Your friend, he is your neighbor,
he is next to your wall -
You, erring in the desert -
what air of love is this?
If you'd see the Beloved's
form without any form -
You are the house, the master,
You are the Kaaba, you! . . .
Where is a bunch of roses,
if you would be this garden?
Where, one soul's pearly essence
when you're the Sea of God?
That's true - and yet your troubles
may turn to treasures rich -
How sad that you yourself veil
the treasure that is yours!
oh where, indeed
"Ours is not a caravan of despair."
I don't understand it all, it's late. Form without any form, maybe it's easier, but it's still lonely.
Relax, K. Just relax and let the ebb and flow take you.
I Am Wind You Are Fire
(But isn't it actually just that we are just both in one big swirling existence of you and I all mixed up together? It's hard to distinguish where one ends and one starts.)
Give me my sleep back.
