featuring and interview with Miriam Makeba from the ’60s
(Source: dynamicafrica, via wellversedetiquette)
When you stop imagining yourself in any form,
there is a revelation that has never been spoken,
but is directly experienced.
Gangaji
(Source: lucifelle, via thewatergypsy)
I’m also working on my book right now. I missed my appointment with Lauwra yesterday. I’m mad because now that I’m really trying to be committed she acts like it’s a fly-ey thing, saying that I should call her before-hand to see. That’s not helpful. If someone’s trying to catch you, you don’t run faster if you’re gonna get mad when they don’t catch you.
I’m often given combined horrors to deal with at once. I’ve given active choice to no longer be filled with the ruckus I was once filled with. But that hardly changes things. Even in our successes, we have to be careful where to put the strokes of change.
I’ve known for a long time, that the reason I won’t take a class, is because I want so many. Like say it would be torture to run a race if you’re only gonna enter one. Which is a direct revelation to my days as a track star, when I would get so scared of being tired by the last race, 300 hurdles, the one I loved the most. That I would slack on the two or three others that I had to perform. I was amazing. Here I am doing nothing. Atleast I am learning piano. Like when I learned La Vie en Rose, and Siempre Me Quedara. I just did it because I wasn’t allowed to do anything better in my life. Both by restrictions of the world and by restrictions of my own-then decaying, heart.
But it wasn’t decaying completely. It visited me in my sleep. In the form of his gracious illusion. Maybe it was sallow of me to think it a bad omen, that the person I gave all my devotion to would love me secretly. The part of me that lived off of that became the part of me that lived in general: addicted to Heaven and Hell.
There was also other parts of my heart that weren’t completely killed, the part that loved g. , and perhaps the part that tries not to shake at the sight of mr. n. Those pieces were able to give me life. Still the truth was that my real devotion was to the ring that was what I considered to be the last living notion of his love. By casting a meaning on it. To be his name. I never breathed when I was around you, but by the time he gave me back this ring. I feel like I could not help but breath. The name was the chosen key to my heart. He kept it in his back pocket. Could never unlock it’s secret. The meaning of the gift I gave him this time, is similar to the extreme love of the first one. Though it’s the signal of death. Meaning of pure love, and the ending of it. ‘How all things die, even beautiful roses.’ The fact that you can smell it also has to do with the soul. Ahh These are very careful vivid explanations of the secrets in my mind. To which I would like to put in a story someday, but I don’t know how to go about it. Besides really really simply, as to not get carried away in every detail that i remember, and to include all that goes!
It’s like trying to draw a picture of a map.
Yeah. The book, like I was saying. I’m getting into it every once in a while. Not to be too poetic, but I must say the feeling is like making love to a woman you never wanted to give up on. You just had to at the time. And it feels so good, because you never really stopped loving her. And you’re happy to go back, as long as no body finds out.
Hm I wonder about that one so far away though. I can’t say I was ever honest about my ‘feeling’s for him. Perhaps in some little moments I came close. Like giving him the rose. Then again, giving someone something that ends, is also a spirited statement strengthening endlessness.
In the long run I felt quite honored to be involved in someone, because of how close they were to my own heart. With every meaning of ‘close.’ Except for literal.
I do believe that in the realm of living ghosts I got the pieces of my heart returned.
This is far too much that I’ve planned to write. In a sense, of what it does describe, there is also far too little.
Here I come so close in to tell you all my current, utmost greatest joy. Which tops above all the golden, and ideal, and silver, and real wonders~ I’ve experienced. I am most thank full that I have been healed in time to try enough to notice it. That is my greatest accomplishment, of the personal work that I have done. I think it’s enough to stop rigorously attempting to mend myself. Finally. I can go back to simply trying to be a better person.
If Beau realizes that Meo isn’t a real person, then is she really Annabella?
There’s two phones in the house, and when someone calls I can’t pick it up, because I don’t know where they are. My mom has my cell phone right now because her’s doesn’t work. We’re gonna get my number changed because I’ve wanted to for a long time, and Bitchy-Whore-Kid started calling me again. I’d like to consider what I did with a him very pure thing, rather than anything else. I fucked something that I hated. An emblem. It was amazing to make something ferocious and scary feel really good. Like taking a shadow and giving it light. It was a height of personal pleasure beyond any other. No body feelings involved. All ego. I would not be so committed to my ego to ever go behind the back of my actual feelings again. Though I believe it was worth it, to fulfill the deed of separation I must have been aiming for. Was like a formal renewal. I didn’t feel like I was strong enough to handle all of the weird shit that I did last year, but I really was. As long as you don’t go overboard.
Phone ran again. I still don’t know where it is.
Phone ran again.
On my cell phone The caniving jerk sometimes calls me though and leaves messages, and I don’t like him so that’s the other reason why I want to change my number. I’m not changing, because there’s a stalker. I AM a stalker. To go against myself would be a real glooey death wish.
phone rang again.
phone rang again.
wow it was Beaujean.
may 24th quote: For many people, the bedroom is the battlefield
“Silly, silly man.” I whispered to him. “You’re so silly.”
His questioning eyes and wry smile cemented that idea further into my mind.
I cooed at him, goggled, and never let go of his stare.
His untrusting grasp and far thoughts were so entirely outlandish.
Now, why on earth my darling would…
