TMi

Photo by Marek Piwnicki It's been a rough summer in so many ways. Just go on over and look at all the wild news, and even the wilder social media. As a HSP trying to stay informed while filtering out and blocking the onslaught of... all the things, I am a touch fried. With an effort, I rallied focus enough to cough up some lines today: we ran among the others– all children he was laughing my expression fixed in righteous anger tickled him when i could catch up, i'd swat him, tell him to stop– he would not– he does not– as if my actions could possibly take anything away from him– he went on and on shouting RAPE! at me– in mockery of all vulnerable people, of our mother– shaming himself who would claim to be a man (of god)– it was only a game out on the schoolyard   no adult attended to his shouts or my outrage a joke, a joke–nothing was meant by it to this day, i choke

It's the time of year to do it, but looking back is so, so difficult for me.  I don't want to reread my blog entries or my e-journal. It hurts me to see how my life has gone. My life is just going away from me...  Along with my e-journaling, I keep a physical day planner. An object in the real world I use to prove to / remind myself that I do things during the course of a day and that I am not just this lump that is taking up space- except I am this lump that is taking up space- So anyway, I have this day planner i can flip through; if I can endure it: very early in the year I was already wondering why I bothered keeping an account when every day is so much the same small potatoes as every day my eyes skitter over the dubious penmanship that improves or degrades depending on how I am doing physically and emotionally FML repeats on many pages I recorded numerous nights when I did not sleep well enough to function I listed the many days when I took antibiotics I ...

    June 14th would have been Ko Murobushi 's birthday. June 18th will be the 5th anniversary of his death.  He was one of my butoh teachers. Last year I wrote some words for his birthday, but did not publish them at that time. I reworked them now into something better than before; maybe. The words are not adequate, but there they are. Going through my old papers, I found a loose sheet in a notebook with a poem composed by Ko-san.  It was typed in imperfect English so I gave the text some light editing in a way that made sense to me.  Does the dead mind such things?  Does the living?  I can't tell any more.  If you are wondering, the poems do not go together. They are not in dialogue with one another. They just exist in proximity to one another on this page. Like I existed in proximity to Ko-san in New York.  redrum self portrait 2020 original photo: Miro Ito s hared kyphosis i think of you from just two letters k o  smal...

I've been in lockdown for a month. An itch to cross the border comes over me now once in a while, but with about 2000 known cases of the virus in the San Diego county, why would I want to go up there? After all, I could remain south of the border, where there is no accurate count of the spread and everyone is in blissful ignorance to the extent of it. The official numbers seem unreasonably low for the state of Baja. But how will we ever know? Even with the internet you can't find all the news. Or hide it. Whether it's horse hockey or not.  And there is so much of this horse hockey coming at me from all sides. From people who mean well. And people who I thought had better uh- discernment. While I have never parented a child, I feel like this is a small taste of what it's like to be one. You have to sift through everyone else's opinions on how best to take care of life .  It's such a weight of unneeded energies bearing down on a person. Why not smother people in t...

in all the sparkling hosts that sparkling host-ess cup cake of welcoming sweetest smiling red and velvet lips speaking nothing but welcome warmly crushed by selective perception in idiot wonder watch her sparkler smoke and ashes you learn nothing leering 

Before I came down with a cold for my birthday, I took a day trip- no, this was  definitely a road trip- out to Mexicali. Why? I hadn't been there! And I had a chance to go. Simple enough.  What I knew about this city was hearsay: the only thing you can do in Mexicali is be hot, drink beer to not be so hot, but end up just being drunk and hot. And eat famously good Chinese food. Stopping at a Starbucks in the city to use the toilet and the wifi,  (my dudes, that is all Starbucks actually exist for in this dimention)  I did notice a distinct spike in the number Chinese/Chinese-Mexican people in the coffee shop. There had better be amazing Chinese food around here then, right? And did I even try any comida china? HA! Of course not! Why, would I EVER do that?!  I opted for a vegan place . (It was Asian fusion food, ok?!) The atmosphere was a little weird because they were in the middle of moving locations, but the food w...

I am no tarot card expert but I have come to this conclusion:  The Hanged Man card is most representational of the Film Extra. A modern deck could include a card called Film Extra and it would still be all about surrender, non-action, yielding... Extras are things fluctuating between living beings and set props- Between subject and object- stalled out between heaven and earth. They are 'bound' hurriedly in costume and makeup then left hang around waiting. When they find a comfort zone something is undoubtedly changed and they are forced to redefine their comfort levels yet again. They are able to see the value of hanging around. Their vantage points are always unusual, surreal.  Many of my days since the beginning of this year have gone into being "awake" and present in this place of suspension. Ready and waiting no matter what the hour. Stuck on the set. Or in holding- which is never too far from the set.  My reward for this? I play make-pretends wit...

{ s elf } A Grate Full  -of lint or ash or wet, dead leaves... or something pleasant maybe.  can you find something pleasant in a grate? or do grates just grate you. In lieu of a rant post (because tis the fourth year designated for ranting) here below is a collection of words, a listing that- that I thought would be more appropriate than some half crazed explosion of overpowering emotions squeezed into the shapes of symbols and stuffed in between the gaps of those symbols arranged into words and sentences. I understand that sort of display is easily scorned and laughed off- due to misconstrued facts or something. So. As this is the manufactured season (day) of thanks, I thought I'd display a bemused image of the s elf with #nofilter. Because that is an expected and customary thing to do. And then express some gratefulnesses; in no particular order.  i am grateful for the green fruit and vegetable juice that will sustain me through my fast today as...

{sketch-while-wait} On Friday, while Human and I were well into our nearly 3 hour wait on the border to cross into the US, cops came around to the lot that half-way surrounds the house to collect a dead body. In case you lost count, this is dead body number 2 this year found in the lot. Human's mother was at home watching all the cops swarm in and comb the grounds. She didn't know what was going on until they asked permission to look around the 'yard' for the object that killed the man they found- a knife. Or so they said. And she watched as they wheeled the body out. The victim was a known vagrant who was often seen riding around Rosarito on a bike. I must have seen him dozens of times while walking around. They said he was stabbed to death in the lot during the dark hours- maybe 2 or 3 in the morning- If the dog trying to wake up Human's mom was an indicator of something going on outside at the particular time. None of us were disturbed by anything on that...

Spring break had been threatening to drag me off (oh twist my arm) into a realm of vacation - before my vacation. Bob Marley was even there to wake me up at 7:30 every morning... I hate you now Bob... The sense of holiday led my Human and I to do a bit more local exploring that usual. We visited the ruins of some tourist resort. I was happy to discover it has been 'maintained' by the youths and vagrants. It's goldmine of grungy street art! See: images that did not do justice to the place. On a different day, we ventured into a mysterious restaurant on the main boulevard where we found  tepache  and cricket tacos on the menu. This kept us away from the lower brow traffic jam of a tequila festival happening up that same road. Yes, I did eat a couple of crickets. The texture is not weird at all and think something along the lines of sunflower seeds for the flavor... I wanted to ask the chef where he got his supply of crickets and how he prepares them. I have crickets tha...

So to the sea, to the sea  Where I sent my dreams I went to that shifting shore to gather them back to me Those hopes taking the shapes of Abandoned spidery exoskeletons, bladder wracks and worn glass All at my feet once more for the taking Exquisite things, new with salt memories and feelings of vast expanses...

One new blog subscriber.  One sip of Mezcal . Two days of getting it right for once. Two baked potatoes in foil. ...

i am the ass beaten for seeing beaten for knowing beaten for my halting steps beaten for my dread awe of what is there there in the moment there just ahead on the path yet there is the stick coming down again drumming my hide for more action and i must go forward or bear the beating inarticulate under the bearing of ill-will on my back in dread awe i am the ass

Dearest creature in creation, Study English pronunciation. I will teach you in my verse Sounds like corpse, corps, horse, and worse. I will keep you, Suzy, busy, Make your head with heat grow dizzy. Tear in eye, your dress will tear. So shall I! Oh hear my prayer. Just compare heart, beard, and heard, Dies and diet, lord and word, Sword and sward, retain and Britain. (Mind the latter, how it’s written.) Now I surely will not plague you With such words as plaque and ague. But be careful how you speak: Say break and steak, but bleak and streak; Cloven, oven, how and low, Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe. Hear me say, devoid of trickery, Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles, Exiles, similes, and reviles; Scholar, vicar, and cigar, Solar, mica, war and far; One, anemone, Balmoral, Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel; Gertrude, German, wind and mind, Scene, Melpomene, mankind. Billet does not rhyme with ballet, Bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet. Blood a...