blank blank fullness

I'm just a big, old negative fart
You're not old! You're only 24! A friend in need is a friend indeed.

Thanks, I needed that reminder that the only thing holding me back from dying is positivity.
Hmm. S reaches for the lighter; scrape, click, flame, in lightening succession. Puts it to a wick which is not trimmed to 1/4 of an inch.
Couch fires, even when one does not have a couch, are devastating. Don't fall asleep with your cigarette lit. Or joint, for that matter. Even if they have those extra chemicals. The ones which taste like crap when you're standing outside a bar, shivering, and your smoke goes out because you've been too busy chatting with that cute, bangable person. All the while, in the back of your body the ache breaks through for, ah- you're hung up in the head. And your heart is waiting for everyone to one day convene in her chambers, pull an all-nighter.

Well you know, it's just my ease at criticizing everything. What happens when your perspective is honed by a prime judgementeur?

What? S asks semi-interested in a reply.
Listen- she starts, not waiting to waste feigning energy.

No, S, I just feel empty inside!! And hating on everything I think is wrong helps me feel productive.
Jaw drops. What a load! First of all, stop analyzing yourself; you're just laying down the train tracks to the destination your words march your mind to. TURN IT OFF. Who needs TV, a girl like you? Actually, maybe you should get one and replace those crazy mind games of yours.
Eye rolls from the peanut gallery, huh, wouldn't that be a great art space? The Peanut Gallery. D- focus, focus.
Anyway-
Second of all, empty? HA! I know you're more creative than that. Do you feel energized?
What? No, I'm empty- I feel nothing.
Bull! You're full of crap, that's what. You're not empty.
Empty yourself out and then you'll feel full. Just drop it D, drop your crap off at the dry cleaners and lose the receipt. What's that thing you say in some of your classes?

I dunno.

Energy loves a void.

Ah yea, that's a good one. A twinkle peeks through, a cracked grin.

Shake it out! Empty your words out, maybe then you'll feel full.
Who wants to feel full anyway? Thanksgiving is almost here. Ugh. Turkeys. Are they a metaphor for us? S muses. Stuffed and glistening with grease?

Come on, let's go for a walk. I want to show you something.............

[Persistence pays off, kids. This is my
fourth and final attempt at posting this damn entry. And you know what? Maybe fate wanted me to not humiliate myself by posting a ramble such as this. But I insist. This must be turned over.]

CUT TO

Sex

Now. H:ahahahahahahahaha shut up

I'm coming. Like, twice. Jesus complex. Sue me, white lunar world
bridger. Was that the one? Two?

Make me. Yea, I said it. Ohhh no she didn't

Craisins. Dried. Cranberries. Jenius mother trucker. Eeeew remember
trucker hats? BARF. Von Douche!!!

What in G*d's legal name change?

[Scenes from my screenplay-by-play]

Sharpen you knife skills, Ninja.

You know what the beast oops, best thing to do is? Accept your fate.
Except, your fate.

It's like that board (bored) game, Sorry! You take the wrong way, but
ya get to slide weeeeee. You make it either way, right?

We need bankable people. The big wigs said. Someone the masses can
look up to, can aspire to be like.
What? I want them to be like
THEMSELVES. You jerks! Go peddle your wares elsewhere. And I plucked a
cookie from their breakfast platter. Can I inspire them to listen to
their hearts? And get into their hearts first, you know, preach the
goodstuff?
Look up the word in the dictionary, their expressions pop up- dubious. Level it off, you've lost them.
Society can only evolve as much as the least evolved man. Oh, f*uck!!
What happened to the teacher at the back of the line? Wasn't she supposed to hurry those stragglers along? Is she the least evolved? Cross the dang street already!
Listen, we don't care about society. We're sitting like some fat, stuffed Christmas ducks on this stock and need to sell, or we'll explode and tax payers are pretty sick of cleaning up the mess, ya catch my drift. So we need you. That buzz--
Will it sell these 60,000 t-shirts we had slave-crafted in Cambodia?
Mannn fuck you! What if your mom was working in that factory? Huh?
Think about that. Man. I mean really. Think about it. Take a damn
tshirt from the goodwill box and craft some shit. You think recycling
is limited to those blue bins? Fuck your trash organizer.
My subway stop's got the word CLASS in it. Take that and put it in
your damn pipe and smoke it. Yea, stick it in the tail pipe of that
Cadillac escalope de veau. Bone up man! Killing animals and shit your
carbon footprint is Jurassic! Fuck, the hybrid.
You ever hear of the Butterfly Effect? Yea, forget it. Welcome, the Stampede of Elephants Effect. You must not be thinking on the same scale as you're acting on. It's too bad.
We in the same boat, you claim?
You're probably right.
Only my boat is sailing, not docked and anchored.
With SAILS. That butterfly? Its fallen cocoon shook the cliffs deep within the sea. That wave is carrying me!
Your seamstress? Yea, the one who could be your mother? The pin she dropped while sewing those cotton-poly blend t-shirts just tripped her colleague. Why? Because her back is bad. And she had to stick her leg out to retrieve it.
That fallen woman tried to catch herself on a sewing machine in motion.
She lost a finger!

And you want me to get on QVC and SELL THIS CRAP!?

"just meet them where they are, different people often, so no continuity to work from., take it slow and you'll see where their limits are"

SMS speaking multiple secrets

Things should fall into either of two categories (if it serves both then we're talking a third category, genius):

Beautiful
or
Useful

Unfortunately for beauty, beauty in things exists in the mind which contemplates them (merci, Hume) and many minds declaring beauty have ceased to contemplate at all.
'Art' has taken an anti-heroic fall where respect is paid to those deserving
none at all.

The things that make one laugh reveal a lot about that person, don't they? Well, I don't know exactly what this reveals about me (though I have some inklings) but slapstick, physical comedy gets me roaring. I mean, curled in a ball, face falling off, tears in your eyes, wailing like a banshee, breath out of breath, sick to your stomach, eventually laughing at how hard you're laughing, laughing. And last night, that was me. A girl laughing so hard that if my fit was taken out of context and shown as a short video clip to passersby on the street to gather their opinions, 5 out of 6 might venture to ask, "Is this what hysteria looks like?" I am not ashamed.

So as part of my ever-notorious, MBBC, I bring to you pages 114-117 (or chapter 29 into 30) of my new favorite author Kurt Vonnegut's Timequake. If there's a chance you'll laugh as hard and as well as I did, it'd be an outright crime not to share this...

ENJOY

I feel your pain, KV.

From

when you make love the focus, you sort of eventually kill it, it becomes garish under the microscope, robbed of organic mystery in the moments
but when you use it to inform everything you do, you sort of really fill it
with life, substance, beyond a 4 letter word and kisses on a screen
it becomes real, because it's an element in everything you touch, approach, illuminating form, illuminated by form
and when you bring love to loving
well,
that's enlightenment
that's everything

Sometimes I'm working from habit, memory, routine, familiarity; and it begins to weigh heavy
We become bored, uncertain, uninspired, seeking. Restless.

What do you want to be when you grow up?
From inception, subtle instructions pointing us to
You are what you do

My insides need to express who I am
Within what I do
Being expressed in doing
Not doing to become, though further becoming is a natural outgrowth
And so it should be
For you too
In so doing, arriving at
The impression of oneness (I say impression because it already exists, we just can't see it, fully feel it; until it impresses itself upon us)
With all that we engage
Which form takes on which shape?
Subtle seamless
Give and take

Even so, disconnection comes through the wire
A certain lack of fuel for fire
Or abundance of fire, tearing through fuel
We get comfortable and forget to reach
Yet times request a steadied rest
Reconnecting to the spontaneity of being what you know without knowing that you know it, what comes naturally, expressing experience plus...

There's this lesson in breath I recently learned
Of course, once both sides were presented and grasped a deeper metaphor was unleashed to wrap around me fast
And it wasn't so much the mechanics, though they will surely get you there
But the meaning that accompanied it to remain well past the moment

I saw the symptom through this comedian I flipped to catch last night. Late Late show. Right before Last Call when you know who ever is up and watching just doesn't give a f*ck- (sidenote, that's what TV does. I haven't owned/watched TV in, oh, 7 years, and have recently been around one again, tuning in. It just sucks the give-a-f*ck right out of you. Makes my feel like a little tween eating canned corn and Elio's pizza after school, alone, bored, watching 90210. WOW anywayyyy ::shudder). He was ranting about how good things were going in his life. While a voice in the back of his mind screamed at him, "Oh wow, things are going really well, look at that. You're gonna screw it up, oh man you're gonna mess this up things are going so well when is it gonna get messed up?" and on and on. The crowd laughed in agreement, sure, we can sympathize. The seesaw. What's with the seesaw? Wasn't it enough on the playground?

Coming back to the larger point, found in this breathing -- what's a less rigid word for exercise? That.
Inhale deeply through the nose. Feel your heart and lungs expand, receive fullness. On the exhale, maintain this fullness, this space. At the bottom of the exhale, come into the natural contraction of your lower abdomen. Along with this contraction comes a deeper connection with your seat, a rooting effect that draws down as you draw in through the exhale. Maintain the contraction, this connection with the earth as you receive the breath, expanding up and out. Instead of seesawing, my instructor went on to impart, exaggerating heavy, hardly graceful, aerobic breathing- in, out, in, out, up, down, up, down, his whole torso shook; integrate.
There's a tightness I came into during this process.

Instead of swinging side to side, weave in the center. Like this visual concept I've been carrying, partly too afraid and unsure of how to execute, partly gathering pieces to complete the blank edges; like a braid through time, all the strings are already crossed waaaay down the line, they're waiting, far apart as seemingly unrelated. And as we come to them on our roads, they definitively overlap, get tighter, just needing, awaiting us to pull our way forward.