Well It's officially 2004 and I'm writing on Live Journal, I suggest all those who follow me to Discontinue. The dregs have arrived.

COFFEE TIME!

hilarious metal men. who are soldiers. stomp through. lazer filled. heart sores. bending down. eyes come to graze the nape. of the neck.

mmm. damn that. is. good. or goo.
our goop. Argue.
it felt real good. neck against nape against neck against nape. splendid shoulders. splinted soldiers.
shins i hurd. this is not about not about the soldiers.

{SIGHbreathLE*SIGH pause shiver. and then head shakes it out. like a cat.}

there is some thing. it feels like strong memory. stuck in my heart like a dagger. like i didn't put it there. like its very small. verrrry microscopic. very small. so small it is actually. Quite Large. (and breathe for a minute here.... ..... ..... ...... .... .... ... ..... ................. ................................. ........ ........... )



and it moves at one end. the other end is stuck to this one part of my heart. now.
I'M TALKING SMALL.

it is red. it is pink, it looks like the unusual polyp-y stuff that surround the walls of my vagina. which, albeit, normal, has never been seen shared. to my eyes... SINCE BIRTH! ah! yeah well as they say now these days uhuh alright they a'say they say that environment has an impact on your uh oh what're those called, yeah you're a, those genes uh'yours.

not just the seeds of the tomato plant. how can one separate the tomato plant from the soil? even to make a point? for a seed.

well that derr one point right then and there. well that point was small. mhmm. Well, I can't say that separation from unity is the small spot I feel in my heart. i can't really say it is body-memory of a long forgotten trauma. I have no real witness to any of that. But it makes a nice metaphor. For whatever trauma/separation that it did come from.

And if it was me who shot the gun, or William S. Burroughs, or my father or mother, or society, the U.S., chemical plants, Joe Biden, or the next person I fall in love with way before they met me... then it was me who held the gun. then it was me who lifted it to my heart. And said, Here, If you're gonna shoot it, shoot it here. If you want, I'll even hold it for you.
(said she on a breeze flutter flutter flutter pretty lil butterfly fly flutter shy shy away from here. lay low sometimes. fly butter fly.) fly fly fly.

lyf lyf lyf.
fly fly fly.
lyf. lyf. lyf.



this is just an easy way to keep writing. keep writing pouring out the wax layers. I think eventually I'll see what it really looks like. not just how it feels.

what is it really? (did u know these are the thoughts in my head, the ones i say to no one. last i checked no one actually consistently reads this. i dont want to say this but these blogs arent really for any1 but the s'elf. i dont want to say this but i am going thru an extremely hard time. i am really unsure of everything. and afraid i'll hurt people. not physically. just by being so good and then being so bad. by being so happy and then so sad. can you perform a classic tragedy for just yourself.. without it catching on? I didn't want it to be This sad... I wrote in my book. It all started. Age 4 I was on the grass in my head in the sky on a cloud reading my book while it becoming created. I remember red blue yellow such happy colors. and i would ask god why why why why, himherme answering immediately into infinity. how as a child did i do? that? and what was it? [just a dream they say]
now slightly .. off. track))))

well. making stuff is great. i put my wax mold after elongating its body in the fridge to harden. i guess we're alla little weird. and i am breathing more slowly. welcome to a live performative writing of a VERY SMALL panic attack. whew glad that ones over. as soon as my asthma is better maybe i will stop drinking coffee in the morning.

here is what making stuff does to me. it solidifies the point. it takes out the dagger from my heart. like finding a missing part of your s'elf or your family, who DO wanna do the same things you do?

the end

the goal is not, not to never react, but over time to reduce your thinking and thinking and thinking time to 5 hours instead of 6. 5 to 6 to 4 to to 3 to 1 to 0 over the course of your entire lifetime.