Lovejournal

Magic has been happening today.

Life is worth loving.

I have decided I absolutely cannot leave NYC. I am in love with its library. Anne says some couples get married in there. I would like to marry IT. I let my brain copulate with ink arrangements on pages for hours and hours today. I'm high from it. It's like I've been wearing moon shoes all day.

I stopped on the way home to return a DVD I rented, thinking it was late - it was not, it was right on time. I confessed that I did not get to watch the second disc and the man at the counter said, "Oh, keep it - what do you need? A day? Make it two, bring it back Sunday." What a deal.

Now I just have to find a job and a more permanent living situation! I cannot locate within me a trace of anxiety over either considerably major endeavor. I have found that as long as the little things are working out, the big things always follow suit.

Quitting my job yesterday was a more celebrated event than when I got it. I was supposed to work Thanksgiving lunch, but I could not make it there! It was as though life was communicating to me via blockades, impenetrable crowds, and taped-off subway exits: "Leave this job." As Buzz Lightyear (the first enormous Macy's Day Parade balloon to drift into my view) drew nearer, I felt my frustrations blow up and float away as well. I was filled with a secret, guileless glee. I kept trying to get to work - I really did! But deeply, I knew that I would not end up there. And that I would not try to salvage my job afterward. I think I could have, if I would have gone in for my scheduled shift today - but my intuition was far too strongly indicating that I was making the right choice, letting it slide. That restaurant represents no part of me, and I shall not represent it.

Who knows if the next job will be any better - but I do not really care. It will work for as long as it works.

Nothing lost and lots gained,
I begin again in New York City!

Where'd my silliness go? I feel so serious. Looking at my silly myspace, I remember myself. Thank goodness.

I cannot lie, this city has got me in a bit of inner turmoil. It's exactly what I was looking for, since I suppose I have to remain human. Goodness! I would much rather give it all up and obliterate into a flaming ball of cosmic love. Ya know? Why not? I know it's there. Why do I have to wait?

Love love love!
Beauty.
Truth.

I am just so tired of feeling as though I must pretend to give a damn about anything else.

It is probably precisely because I still feel as though I must pretend that I am not obliterated yet.

Happy T. Hanks Day!


Give thanks
EVERY
DAY!

I just responded to a job listing on craigslist, a dog walking company!!!

I'll take less money, I don't need all this selfish waitress money! I do like to have some extra to give to subway and street musicians. But I get some stupid amount of pleasure out of being poor - I like the just-enough budget. What I really need is the company of dogs and friendly, happy people.

Lots of possible new beginnings today, I hope at least one works!

Hm!

Too much to chew on. I feel like...I feel liiiike......

Well.

I am so, so unsure what I feel.

Suddenly virtually all contemplation has been suspended

and I swirl around every second
half saying goodbye
half greeting whatever is next

it is all too rapid!

I feel already that I could use some

s p a c e

lots
lots
lots

of it!

But I know
it does me no good!

I want some place where a quiet, contemplative life is understood

but it simply
does
no
good.

I want to exist
quietly, contemplatively

here

in protest
of this tempest
raging around me.

This is no way
to live,
my friends!

"New York, poor New York!
not fit for a dog in New York

everybody bites on the Big Apple
leave the hungry in tears
but no one gives a damn
no one really cares
how they feel
they're just paper people not real"

It's true, it's true!

I listened to that song so much
before I came here.

I had to know though,
Is it true? Is it true?

Yes. Yes. Yes.

Granted, that song was written at a time
that was a bit more rough
so I hear.

Anyway...
what to DO about it?

What to DO about this
economic disparity
common despair?

I want to
DO something
about it.

I want to
write about it.

And most of all
I want to take
my goddamn
time.

Say listen!

slow down
ease your mind
you're doing fine
everything is

a l r i g h t !

To all these truly piss-poor people
and fat-walleted soul-poor people
and workaholic university-enslaved people.

Save the world -
put your peace of mind first.

I am having difficulties with it myself!

But maybe if we all give it one big shot, in concert

all together now...

RELAX.

Peace only develops around
minds at peace.

Today has been utterly redeeming. I'm beaming. The sun was not, but I have been. All day. Hooray.

Obey no law less than the eternal law...

It was easy enough to do in Oklahoma, but then, I may as well have died.

It gets too hard for me to be a human being. It is easier for me to be a natural thing. Still. Silent. Soul expanding through the portal of my mind in quiet. Or music. Music! Music. Music. Music.

I would be ready to be a normal human being...I would be..I would.......if what? If I met someone like me? I could have a relationship, I could have children, I could live a life of celebration and peace? If only I could find someone else like me? If only I could tear myself from the bliss of intimacy with some other side of life, autistic visions? If only? Really? Maybe.

So many moods today. I had a moment of bliss, watching the fattest squirrel I have ever seen bury his acorn right next to me in the park. The way it was patting the dirt with its funny little paws, the care it took - it was real. It was a life being lived, it was another side in itself, an independent existence with no care or concern about trifling self-created, self-perpetuated human troubles.

The rest of the day has been mood after mood, all kinds of shades of grey. No sign of sun, but it'll come up in five hours or so and we'll see where my heart is then.

Right now, I have to be honest. I resent being human. I want to be a thing. Still. Silent. Left alone, like every other thing - and so, all together - free. Quiet celebration, quiet contemplation. Eternal. Rolling slow, no particular place to go.

It is not the most well-considered desire, but no desire is.

The heart wants what it wants. The head has no control, though it has the brawn. It can, with force, take control and remain in power over long periods of time.

But the heart will get its way or it will bring a miserable daily death upon the head that shelters it.

This is what I hate about not being happy. Self-absorption. Necessarily, one is self-absorbed when unhappy. All the charity and benevolence of an unhappy person is obligatory - a social habit, an unthinking ritual - certain behaviors are "good", other behaviors are "bad". Being "good" brings its social rewards. It is not charity. Behind it is no heart, just a script.

Morality - conceived by individuals, for individuals it works. For the whole? Such an approach to justice only produces injustice. What we all really seek is our own happiness, and with it comes the genuine desire and ability to endow others with happiness. Thus, our own happiness must come first.

Love comes from within, not without. It is in intention, not acts, though with true intention action will follow.

Beware "acts" of love. Performances. If you are not being filmed, quit acting.

What to do about this?
I've slept all I can sleep.
Eaten all I can eat.
Written all I can write.
I am empty.
I want to be fired from my job.
I want to sit on the porch and freeze
and listen to music
like I just was
but I just came back in
why did I come back in?
If I go back out
I'll want to be back in.
I don't think I've really
slept all I can sleep.
Goodbye weird waking life.
I love you
I'm just a little
nettled
right now.

Problems? What are those?

Really.

I try to get back into these things
"problems"
so that I can relate to the human race.

I don't want to relate.

I don't like those things.

I want freedom.

Freedom
from problems.

It's a perspective,
it's a word.

What do you want?
What do you need?
No problem!

Take it,
it's all free.

It is 8:30 am! I have been up for an hour point five! Leave in an hour point five for work! Then after work, good music and good company! I feel like me today. I haven't felt ghostly since I wrote that I feel like a ghost all the time. Often when I write, it is a sort of farewell to something. Commemorate so you can always remember so you can forget.

I took some advice from a t-shirt:
"Put a little sweetness in your life."

Hm.
I wasn't going to post, actually
but when I'm lingering on the internet
doing nothing, haplessly clicking
I tend to enter this mindless
"Post an Entry" trance
in which my fingertips
lead me here.

I truly have nothing to say, though.

I'm processing.

I'm enjoying
enjoying my time.

I'm enjoying
not enjoying my time
sometimes.

I'm enjoying
deviating from my detox
with this glass of wine

It's just that
I can't sleep,
you see.

Four hours down,
but four more to go.

If I fall asleep now
I could be up by 7:30 am

good Dog
that would be
NICE!!!

I did not have to sleep much
last night,
and I was up early.

good God
that was
NICE!!!

Things have just
been that way...

NICE!!!

Tumultuous,
like when the bough breaks
and baby falls...

but I know how to get up
and walk now.
and brush myself off
and laugh.
and relax.

Life is good.
So good.
So good!

I love myself
for everything
that
I AM.

So,
I can love others
for everything that
they are.

A book title caught my eye
the other day:

"I LOVE EVERYONE"

then I saw the subtitle...
"and other atrocious lies"

Those words were written
by a woman
who does not love
Herself.

I love everyone.

Doesn't mean I always
enjoy their company.

But love them
I do.

I am
a humanitarian.

I'm just
everything else
there is
and ever was,
too.

Don't place limits
on the soul

talk about bad news!

Could I get some
coverage?

+++

I purchased this book,
"Where Have All the Intellectuals Gone?"

See how this place is getting to me!!

I am attracted to many bold points -
chapter headings.

"Knowledge without meaning"
"The cult of the banal"
"The sociology of dumbing down"

however,
reading this?

I think...

despite how much we agree!
this dude is saying
what I don't want
to be said!

Littered with -isms,
lack of imagination,
no liveliness.

Bins. Categories.

I don't know!!!
You know?

This book,
it is all about the "intellectual's" place
in society...

I'm just thinking...
sir,
what do you care?!

Your powers of intellect,
you talk about them being
sufficient unto themselves

and then whine about
where they are being placed
in society!

It doesn't make any sense to me.

OF COURSE
the universities, the institutions...
well...
they suck.

To be unintelligently frank.

I entertained them again recently
(only because there was a class
about psychedelics -
just what I want about
psychedelics!
intelligent discussion!!!)

I will find some
intelligent discussion.

(I'm not even certain I have
the intelligence to discuss
it all yet..!
Now I am thinking
instead
I will stick with
semi-intelligent contemplation.
I haven't been thinking
much about
psychedelics
at all
anymore!
I've been thinking
about
LOVE
is there a difference??)

What am I saying?

I am saying -

I am here for the soul.

Not the intellect.

Not that there is anything bad
about being around for the intellect...

it's about priorities.

I love that this dude
wrote this book.

I love that universities exist
but am glad I do not belong there.

Forget the rest!

What's my sex? What's my name?
On and on
it's all the same.

My book, this wonderful little book! "The Art of Loving", it is falling apart from my ardor. Even the muscle beneath the skin of its binding is beautiful. It is pink like my flesh. I think I am a book.

My dreams have gotten so much more pleasant these past few days - as my real life has gotten tumultuous!!

It is as though my dreams are jealous of my waking life, and they turn against me when I get to feeling too heavenly. I have ended such perfect days with perfect nightmares.

But when I have some trouble, the dreams are nice to me again.

I guess I don't mind, it's just an observation at the moment. All I do is observe and write and I am doing more about being a participant, and that is the trouble for me. Even when I am a participant in something, I don't see myself as one. Not that I ever feel out of place, really. I just feel like a ghost. All of the time. A happy, friendly ghost. Watching. Delighting. Writing.

I feel better now. I spent some time in a sweet coma of sorrow. A warm little couch womb. Let myself be an infant and cried, texting with clumsy digits supported by limp wrists underneath the covers, weakly attempting to get my shift tonight covered. Unsurprised to be without success, I finally got up. I was not even surprised how beautiful and natural I felt. Had a good chat with Wes (roommate), and determined that I am not losing my mind. The symptoms of mind loss and mind enlargement do appear the same - insane. This body, this brain, this person, "me", is being spread thin but I know that it is the cost of spreading this mind thickly over every truth in every human, nonhuman, subhuman, superhuman interaction. It is worth every expense.

Depths conquered for the day, I am going to go get ready to serve barbecue, beer, and soda to tourists. I need waitressing. I need it because it keeps my life light. Strangers and small talk make me feel good. If I had a full-time occupation that reflected my full-time mind, I really would go off the deep end. Maybe some day I will, and it will be wonderful. I don't think the deep end is a bad place at all, but I am not quite that ready yet.

So tortured, so misunderstood!

I mean...
really.

It really hurts today.

Sufferers of an abundance of life, unite?

Is there anybody else out there?

I would write something worthwhile, but sometimes the only word that means anything out of the whole thing and I know it so why start it? is "acceptance".

I'll keep writing things forever, because I live the true writer's dream. I am free, and pens and internet and books are cheap. What I write, is it worthwhile or not? Fuck yes, it is! And also - fuck it, I do not even care! I am twenty-five years old! I do not believe I gained any kind of real consciousness until I was at the earliest nineteen! I was sleepwalking until then. What can I tell you after six little years of experience? It would sound condescending. "Don't worry, be happy" is all I've got, and it sounds familiar. Who the hell do I think I am, anyway? Why do we press one another to "accomplish" something with our talents? The only reason we feel the need to accomplish is to gain acceptance. Well, I feel accepted! I accept myself! So what do I have to worry about? What do I need to become accomplished and accredited for? Who are you people, anyway? I have nothing to give but myself, and mostly I can't even give that but in pieces which some consider crumbs. But I feel they are really quite generous. I have a lot to think about, and you do, too! This is where we will all find our worth. We need to get off one another's backs. We need to get one another what we need so that we can think, think clearly. But it is damn difficult to accurately gauge one's real needs because of all the things we are told we need. The easiest approach: convince yourself that you need nothing. Practice needing nothing. Go a day without a need. Go two. Go three. You'll see, you really don't need a thing. And then you have everything. You have clear thought, and a whole world calling you, needing you to think clearly for it, needing you to need it, but you don't, though you sure love it! That's my experience. I packed a lot into six years because I took my time. Accept every paradox as truth, just for fun. Then find that fun is the only real truth. Everything is arbitrary because every single thing is so densely packed with meaning. You can't go wrong, no matter what! Life is rich and so are you. Life just wants to have fun and so do you.

and the L is the friendly little grey wonder dot that brings me home! Artists are the only important people. Whatsoever you do, do it artistically. Find out what it means or be without meaning.



Why don't I know who Will Oldham is.......

*Okay,
my ears do know who Will Oldham is,
just didn't know it.

It keeps coming up that I appear Russian. At work one day someone asked me if I was. He said that I look like a Russian ballerina - it's the pilates posture and that I wear my hair in a bun. Later, another employee asked me on a separate occasion if I was Russian. Then I was just out smoking and Anne arrived and sat with me on the stoop, and she took this photo and told me that I looked Russian, with my babushka!

Full-time students only at this new school. I do not want to be full-time anything. I want a piece of everything all the time. I do not like this way of life, this one-track mindedness, goal-orientation at all costs. I want balance. Alas!

It is clear, I have to do everything on my own! I can't have it any other way.