a stone revealed that we teleport in transportation, transient transitions different scenes and scenery, redundant redundancy, ample amplification of misery, brought upon by the week set before me, mathematical beauty lost in markings made by mad musicians and physicists looking to psychics carried by fabric pieces lost in sheets sang by neutral milk hotel heard in a bell that fell from fives stories high to the ground repeated words genetics flow through me, all of this was said before me, computer coding and technology threw the wrench in the proverbial gears of the machine that runs everything, natural versus artificial edifices, we’re all a drifting conscious set to consume and buy, i miss my teen years when weeks weren’t as feared as they are now, and how i’d like to build a time machine a man and i said we would build one on a screen but never did, it was a lie, men lie all of the time. a reader in qatar is quite far to learn different languages but i already know them all, my mind has yet to reveal this to me, for now i am plagued with being unable to see, i’ve blinded myself from seeing the truth and instead talk nonsense and do nothing of use. carefully carved architecture designed to greet the eye with a point of reference, direction to a designated space, circumference, angled boxes that entrap us, protect us and act as a fortress, i’d rather stay asleep on a mattress i found a photo of a relative in old age laying in bed with a book in hand i miss my eccentric uncle that lives in a victorian home darkened by time that creaks when stepped in and says goodbye, i’ve been given things in increments and on silver platters in retrospect, but in the present everything is just a choatic mess, even the way i dress shows lack and laziness. forget about my hair, it has a mind of it’s own, grey hair is starting to grow. tired and cumbersome is what i am becoming, i have a gift in making things complicated and am constantly complaining. i can gather data but it’s sorting and sifting and making something creative or something of beauty that eludes me, i’ll take what i can get.
Tag Archives: musings
LAST night i dreamt i was on a bus to santa cruz. i was admitted to university of california, santa cruz in 2009 and enrolled in the winter of 2010 as a transfer student. what i didn’t know was my life would be forever changed by this decision and the pandora’s box it opened and continues to open to this day. every time i moved back to this town shit would hit the fan, and several problems erupted. the harsh beauty of the place ignited one problem after the next. not enough money to live there, not smart enough to study there, all against the backdrop of the bay or wintry winds and rain of the season. my divorce was ignited there, my sister went crazy while i was there, i attempted to finish school there twice and failed greatly yet i still want to go back. maybe i love drama and conflict. maybe i am spoiled and want to be among the beauty and scenery and crazy characters that is santa cruz. i just heard that the film “us” takes place in my achille’s heel, although most of it was filmed in los angeles, and the house was filmed in pasadena. in any event, i love that the city to date has only approved of filming horror movies, the last and only one being “the lost boys” back in the 80s. i met a descendant of george washington there, i met my crazy ex roommate who has peter pan syndrome there, i lived there with artists and musicians and drug dealers. i want to create a new story with this backdrop. i want to live there and thrive. i don’t want to merely speculate and watch what goes on around me, i want to be immersed in the culture and people. i can’t do that here in the suburbs of la. i’ve said before that i believe the internal reflects the external. no matter where i go, problems will follow, maybe in different forms, but they will still be there. since i do live with family, and the backdrop here is plain and boring, i could build a better foundation, try to become the person i want to be and allow the details of going back to santa cruz, if that is what fate allows, to unfold and fall into place on their own. i don’t want to be distracted by memories and the should or could haves. there are many things i should and could have done. i should have stayed in school, said fuck you to my ex husband and let him leave. i had no support up there, my only support is here and only because i am here. i need to be my own support system. lost in an identity crisis or not, my niche is definitely the different that resides in the northern beach town by the bay.
MAYBE i am supposed to be an actor. i have no unique way to identify myself at all. if people ask about me i talk about my family, and what interests them. my family is filled with singers, actors, artists, alcoholics, mathematical geniuses, a prodigy, a laywer, a doctor, a priest, two lottery winners, etc. sure i dabbled in painting and drawing but i suck at both. i haven’t mastered any medium to be able to deviate from it and just have fun with it. everything is a chore. and where ever i go i just copy those around me. what the hell is wrong with me? i’ve blamed being married so young on this problem. i never developed my own personality or interests. instead i did what interested my then husband and took on a lot of his personality. instead i developed mental illness like bipolar, depression, anxiety. life feels so clouded, i feel like my point of view just rots everything it comes in contact with. that’s not true entirely, but it feels that way sometimes. on the other hand, i get blessed with incredibly good luck at times. i come in contact with great, interesting people and artists. i can easily get a job. i live in a comfortable home in a quaint town near the foothills of san gabriel valley. it’s mostly always sunny here. i have many things to be grateful for. if life really is what we make it i am too damn lazy to do anything with it. i already want to give up going to the gym. i feel like this weight just doesn’t want to go anywhere. it’s when i am actually living, on my own that i lose any weight. maybe i am not pushing myself hard enough. when i lived in missouri i often heard the phrase, “you become what you behold.” the international house of prayer had it’s own language that linguists or anthropologists would have a field day studying or researching. anyway, this idea was said in the context of prayer, facing G-d daily and becoming like him. this was my identity when i was 15-16. i was a hardcore christian, interceding and praying for my family, friends, students, cities. i was more spiritual than religious. anyway, that spiritual side in me still resides in me somewhere. my mom is spiritual and an actress. i do not want to become my mother. i am a painter, an artist. even if i am a shitty one. it’s the process that i enjoy the most. and seeing what paint can do, you really can create smaller worlds or stories in just one brush stroke. when my mind cracked a year ago today (i’m still not over the experience), one major thing i experienced during and after the episode was everything i said or came out of my mouth rhymed. it was as though i was possessed by the god of poetry, or a muse. i’m beholding myself too much so it’s become chaos. too much isolation…