windblown fcp remix

somewhere, a princess is getting married. but really who cares? my friend adam tells me that a good wedding would take place 10 years post union. he is on the side of logic after all. after 10 years, you have already proven to the universe that you aren't kidding. tennis like spheres have settled in my throat. a medicine (woah)man will inspect the globules. i am on a fast. lara bars, lara bars. i can almost do a pull-up. and when i can, i think that my aura and my chakras will shift towards something much more alluring. strength attracts strength.

i have ditched 80s time travel tonight in favor of hardcorepostpunkmetalscreamoemocore. from time to time, i need to catch up on these things, in order to solidify them and know that they are real. i think the problem with adults is that they forget to solidify! basically, they lose the ability to travel back because they haven't activated and EXERCISED the memories along the way. i fully expect to avoid this. invoking! grilled cheese stand. i know that was real. because of all the details. i would descend the steps of 113 1/2 college street apt A. (yes i realize that a 1/2 in my address leans more in favor of NOT REAL but this is simply overrided by the fact that it's a good detail, absurd, but real). i would order a double decker with swiss and hot sauce. then i would walk into the tobacco bowl and purchase one newport 100 full flavor. yes, a single. oh, and an izze of some sort. i never learned the name of the tallish blondish chain smoker who sold me those smokey treats (invoking! kelly t). then i would sit outside. on a bench. and go to fucking town. sometimes i would see local hooligans (JM or NM or MB or or or) engaging in global shenanigans.

anyway, presently, i am catching up on some allegiance, minor threat, circle takes the square, FUGAZI, have heart, and in my eyes, all at once. overwhelming - yes. but i prefer it. to be honest, if 90s time travel were on the agenda - it'd be a different story really. it's time to ditch the 80s parties people. let's be real. we don't remember the 80s. good god!

how long do you mean to be content?

i have been full of ideas lately. juicy and energizing and inspiring. ideas which lift and stretch and toil and jump and submit.
and and and.

a few weeks ago, deel and i entertained the only haunting question: how long do you mean to be content? doppelgangers!

arabic themes suggest that encountering one is insouciant at best. you are to say "she is one of 40!" a nonoccurrence. unindicative of any omen and not more a feat than pomegranates in a rural summer souk. no more interesting than puffed dry lips after a saliferous pumpkin seed feast. in fact, the implication is that the only possibly peculiar affair is one where you encounter numerous doppelgangers. at once! otherwise, don't speak. you are, after all, noticing something expected and planned. ordained even.

everyone else disagrees. the ancient greeks. the anglo-saxons. the mayans. even the hindus, who are known to rebel in such instances.

for what it's worth, the inquiry, however it made me shudder, at the same time activated my right brain. which then, after a momentary consultation with its connections on the other side, decided: i intend to be content so long as i am here. and my essence for 40 days thereafter. and i am not brave. but i know that the key here is 40. 40 days. 40 nights. 40; sacrosanct and strong. how could any evil twin outsmart god's extension, the number 40!

when it rains, monsoon!

can someone explain to me why it is that sometimes when we're having the most fun we stop to lash out - say something totally rash and then immediately beg to take it back? i think it's a human thing. other humans i know have complained of this same perspective vomit. words are only words and i don't care too much for them. selon moi, the content is mostly irrelevant and it's the sounds that comfort because the silence is unnerving. music is better than words. even better than music is touch. and then brains. and if you have music, touch and brains. then my dears you have stumbled upon heaven.

the kind on earth at least. i can't speak so confidently about the extraterrestrial type. my attempts to project and explore have been just that. they say you can travel across time too. i am still trying to get the space part down. i wonder if it will be easier with a mutual human attempt. maybe it will be a sort of peacocking - to the universe. look at us! we need you leaders of projection!

he gave me a jade-ish, rigid, coin-sized piece; told me it came from the stars and the space. it is a great responsibility, you know, to be in possession of this ethereal matter. i was careful to hold it the right way in my palm (but i could only guess because it came alone, without modern instructions). consciously, i tried to carry it with respect for the divine and such. he gave little feedback. as if i was just supposed to know. i am not so sure what will come of it, but so long as i have it, i intend to cradle it like the majestic and fully energetic child that it is.

all i can tell YOU is this my beloved readers; there is a positive correlation between primality (not the numerical type) and the extent to which my soul embraces the pins, needles and chills. that is why there is some guilt in laying down. but in standing and feeling the solid support of the soil, i just close my eyes and channel my inner cavewoman.

!magic tri(cks) & sma(cks)

i can't stop thinking about smacks.

and magic.

any day now i will discover that he is a shapeshifter, like sam merlotte or half fairy like sookie or part werewolf or : a vamp. really, just a vamp. but if my suspicions are true, then it's none of the above and in actuality, it's something much more powerful and weird.

smacks smacks.

this entry too demands audio. but you can play the smiths or the cure and it would not even matter.

i need to learn more about healing people (that is, people who heal and NOT the act of healing), doppelgangers and the moon. these are my specialties and these will serve to entice.

P.S. deel (now more medical than ever before) is wise and missed. so this is what life is like when i am not routinely awakened by the sounds of a stumbl-y spanish geetar & the sight of a leetle face and the biggest eyes. the irises would roll and in rolling she found the perfect place to sigh a big, "EEEEEEEUUULL!" (intonation dare not attempted by these words but you get the idea).

actuellement (which actually does not mean actually) things are a little crazy and busy, yet basically lazy and mostly smiley. estelle, lala, eel, lara, and now shelly; well we are just rebelling sort of. but i figure since farmers & cattle are making a run for it, i am not sure how much time we have left anyway.

P.P.S. old technicolor fibers snapped last week. my wrist is bare & burned (a separate occurrence involving a steamer and jan's suit). an old brazilian woman in la ciotat, france looked up at the very instant and shook her head. she smiled across the ocean, towards my way. she was right about everything.

to sum up. what we have here is a mild, spastic, and (a)cute case of MPD. my psych brain is verrrrry happy and churny like the butter and baguette that entered my body last night. deel said life has legs and it's running. i don't really care where it is going or where it came from. i just want to know my leaping and limber earth: are you taking care of your feet? earth is a mother and old, wrinkled babylonian men used to postulate that heaven lies under the soles of our mothers. this of course was before modern religions and ideologies convinced us otherwise.

be good to your earth. be good to your mother.

a question for you readers. if heaven IS below us, why do we long for what is above us? why do our energies and our goals look towards the sky? what about the soil that holds us! humans! we have been living upside down & backwards and inside out. that of course, would explain the magic.

spring&RENEWAL

this entry demands audio.

i'm smiling as i write this.

in relationships & the universe, we should reward good behavior. too often, it goes unnoticed or is mislabeled and this happens to real people. so if only for the rest of womankind, i should....

it smells more like 2005 now than it did then. febreze spring & renewal is to blame. 806A used to smell like that. help, i'm alive. smells are serious things.

must practice my yoga more. the bikram glow is haunting & the energy buzzes & buzzes & does all sorts of things to wavelengths in need of tuning.

the other night i dreamt i had a daughter. it was very emotional. i gave birth and she was 3 years old (later on, i'll explain why that's the ideal age for most magical things). it's maybe also worth mentioning that she looked just like me when i was 3. her name was mayar obviously. because i've already decided that.

my mama & baba told me that in middle eastern folklore, dreaming about a daughter is good. it means good fortune and luck. boys are bad signs. i'm a sucker for omens. always have been.

i have never dreamt about being a mother. in real life or dream life. i will let you know if i get lucky this week.

always always give a proper handshake people.

BULL shit.

so i told him: you're not good. you're not lucky. you're straight up blessed.

fuck, i just quoted nicki minaj and i didn't even realize it.

must: get better at negging.

i participate in a series of unrelated extreme experiential events ranging from deeply investing in fitness to deeply binging on life. on the one hand, deeply invested in certain values and ideas and on the other hand, exhibiting a total lack of commitment to people, places, and things.

question: is the moderate life one of alternating extremes or is it the perpetually calm space? what's the big idea about being moderate anyway.

i'm taking a break from height. i'm afraid that they'll get so tall i won't be able to see their heads anymore. although, on second thought that wouldn't be the worst thing in the world.

black & yellow; out of my brain now!